A few years ago a tenderfoot went out West looking for grizzly.
He was all togged out in the newest style of hunting-suit, and
dawned like an incredible vision, on the astonished inhabitants
west of the Missouri. He asked them where he could find a
grizzly, and they told him reverently that at a certain place
not far from there grizzlies were numerous and would come if you
whistled. Light-heartedly he took his way to the place indicated
and two days later they buried his mangled remains in the local
cemetery. Over his innocent young head they erected a tombstone
whereon they rudely carved this epitaph:
“He whistled for the grizzly, and the grizzly came.”
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