Bears, and, in fact, they never came to the back door except when potatoes were being peeled.

There were few guests at the Geyser House, as it was comparatively early in the season, but I studied the register carefully. Upon it, in an angular hand, I noted the names of “Mrs. Miranda Kirsten,” and “Miss Miranda Kirsten.” For some reason, these names moved me profoundly, and I was still thinking of them when I fell asleep.

In the morning, when I went down to breakfast, a lady and a child were seated at my table. At once, I knew who they were. The mother ignored me, but the little girl’s eyes were fastened upon me with tender interest. While she was engaged in contemplating me, she choked on her near-food, and doubtless would have strangled had I not with swift presence of mind gone to the rescue. I grasped the child, reversed her, and swung her back and forth by the heels until the section of straw mattress which she had vainly attempted to swallow was dislodged from the main line of her bronchial system."Dear sir, kind sir," said the mother, with tears in her eyes, as I put the thoroughly frightened child into her outstretched arms, "how shall I ever thank you for preserving my daughter's life!"

"Do not mention it," I replied, in the happy and appropriate words of my medical adviser; "I assure you, it is nothing worth speaking of."

"Sir-r-r-r!" exclaimed the mother, in a freezing tone.

"I mean, dear Mrs. Kirsten," I went on, in my best manner, "that I am accustomed to it. From Maine to San Francisco, every Summer, it has been my good fortune to save the lives of unnumbered children who have choked upon near-food."

Here the little Miranda slipped out of her mother's arms and came to me. "Pitty man," she said, placing her hand upon mine with tender confidence. "Baby loves 'oo."

That settled it. I was at once restored to the mother's good graces, and we chatted pleasantly all through breakfast. Immediately afterward, with my camera and my note-books, I went out to see Bears. I felt, rather than heard the animals, for, as every observer knows, the soft, padded feet of a Bear make no noise whatever upon the trail. I walked along as carefully as possible, but saw nothing to photograph until the path turned. There, sitting up on her haunches, not twenty paces from me, was a large black Bear! Her Cub, also upon his haunches, was about a yard and three-eighths behind her, and I realised that my situation was serious. I had no weapon—the authorities do not allow weapons of 

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