STORY TOLD BY MARIE A. CURTIS

     My father just loved the outdoors.  You could have called him a true
sportsman.  He was such an avid fisherman.  Most of our vacations were
spent in the canyons.  Father would get all the food ready and get the tents
together.  He would even let us take along a friend if we wanted to.  We
would then go up into the mountains for the weekend or for several days
during the week.  This was our type of vacation, and we loved every bit of
it; the good meals the men would fix for us and the games we would play. 
Everybody would join in, the young and the old.  At night, we would sit
around the big campfire and tell stories and really enjoy each others
company.
     Father had a boat made that he could fish from.  In the evenings, he
and I used to go up to the second dam and take the boat out on the water
to fish.  We didn't care if we caught anything or not, the scenery was so
beautiful; we would sit and talk and look at the beautiful surroundings
around us.  Then when we were through fishing, Father would padlock the
boat to a quaken aspen tree where it was not very visible to any onlookers.
It would then be ready for us the next time we went up.  One night, we
went up to fish, and discovered that someone had chopped the tree down,
taken the chain off of the tree that had secured the boat to it, and had
taken the boat.  They had taken everything, the padlock and the chain, as
well as the boat--and we never saw them again.  Father kind of lost
interest in fishing from the boat after that.  So, needless to say, that ended
our boat fishing.
     However, in the summertime, the first of June meant fishing on the
Madison River up in Montana.  The years that my brothers were on their
Missions, it fell my good fortune to go along with my father and learn the
art of real fishing.  All of this was great.  I would get so excited pulling out
a big fish.  If I was standing on a rock, my dad would say, "Stand still, girl,
stand still, or you're going to fall off of that rock!" I would get so excited
jumping up and down, catching my fish.  We always caught our limit, and
so we would take home plenty of fish for all of the neighbors.
Sometimes, we would go over to Yellowstone Park.  We loved this
very much --- this was before the feeding of the bears was so constricted. 
At Old Faithful, there was a big arena where they fed the bears in the
evening.  The bears knew this; they would come down from the mountains
and feed on the garbage that the rangers had put in the arena for them. 
There were some bleachers at one end of this big clearing where the
rangers would talk to the people who had gathered there while the bears
were eating.  One evening as we were sitting there watching the bears eat,
the ranger called our attention to a big black bear who was called Old
Scarface.  This bear had been in so many fights, that his fur just hung very
scraggly on him.  That's how he had earned the name of Old Scarface. 
Now, the ranger told us that there was a big brown bear that had been
challenging Old Scarface's supremacy.  He told us to watch, because each
night, the brown bear was getting a little more daring to go into the arena
while Old Scarface was eating.  All of these other bears acknowledged
that Old Scarface was their leader, and they would stay outside the arena
while Old Scarface was eating.  When Old Searface was finished eating,
he would go and sit down on the outside of the little arena and would lick
his paws.  The other bears would then rush in to get what food was left. 
While we were watching Old Scarface in the arena eating, along came the
old brown bear.  Very boldly walking out of the trees, he strolled into the
arena and started to eat. Old Scarface growled at him two or three times,
but the brown bear didn't pay any attention; he went right on eating.  Then
I guess that  old Scarface felt that something had to be done.  He went
over and growled very closely by the brown bear.  The brown bear paid no
attention.  He was probably waiting for Old Scarface to make the first
move.  Finally Old Scarface did.  He lifted up one of his big old paws and
clobbered the brown bear on the head.  That was all that it took, the brown
bear flew into combat with Old Scarface.  They growled, scratched, and
fought with each other.  The rangers told us that we were really seeing a
spectacle and to be careful if they gave the signal to get out of the area in a
hurry.  But they stayed right inside of the arena with their fighting. Finally,
the big old brown bear had tore Old Scarface down on the ground.  We
thought at first that maybe he had killed him, as the brown bear began to
move off to the side a little.  Then, with much effort, Old Scarface got
onto his feet and clamored up into the hills.  Afterwards, we asked the
ranger what Old Scarface would do now.  The ranger said that Old
Scarface would never come back into the arena again.  He would be too
ashamed of his defeat.  No one would ever see him again, he would
probably go up to the top of the mountain and stay there until he died. 
Well, the old brown bear walked around in the arena afterwards as if he
were the king --- and I guess you could say that he was.  After he had
eaten, he went and sat down.  The other bears went into the arena to eat,
as they had acknowledged him as their leader now.
Another time, we had gone to Yellowstone Park, and again in the
evening, we had gathered along with the other families up in the bleachers
to hear what the other rangers had to say, and to watch the bears eat again. 
The ranger called our attention to a mother and a pair of twin cubs that
had come down out of the hills and were sitting at the side of the arena. 
The ranger had an idea that the mother was going to do something with
her two cubs.  We soon found out what it was.  The mother walked over to
a rather young sapling of the quaken aspen trees and put her front paws up
on the tree to feel its strength.  She then walked back over to her twins. 
She pushed one little twin out in front of her, and we watched the little
bear walk carefully over to the tree.  He looked back at the mother once,
as though he were a little timid.  The mother gave a little growls and he
went on over to the tree. The ranger told us that the mother was teaching
her little cubs to climb for the first time.  The little bear started up the tree
and the mother gave a little growling sound, which was more like a purr
than a real growl, and up the tree the little bear went as the mother
encouraged him along.  When the cub was about halfway up the tree, he
turned back down.  The mother didn't say anything so it ran its way back
down the tree and ran over to his mother.  The mother bear then patted it
on its head.  The mother pushed the second little cub towards the tree. 
But the little cub was frightened; he didn't want to learn how to climb a
tree.  He ran back to his mother, and this time, with her big paws, she gave
him a smack that sent him rolling like a little ball of fur over to the tree. 
He knew better than to go back to his mother the second time.  So he
looked around at her very cautiously, but when she growled, he went on
over to the tree.  He put one little paw on the tree and looked back at his
mother and she growled again at him.  He put the second little paw on the
tree and looked once more at his mothers and she growled again.  So very
cautiously, he finally got all four feet up on the tree.  He was just shaking
all over; we were all feeling very sorry for the poor little cub. But the
mother growled at him again, and he took another couple of steps up the
tree, putting one paw in front of the other very carefully.  The mother
would growl each time he looked back at her, and so the poor little cub
knew he had to take another step up the tree.  This happened all the way
up the tree, not just halfway.  The mother did not let him come back down
--- she sent him with her growls to the very top.  It was so far up to the top,
that the tree was bending over to the side before she stopped her growls
and gave a little purring noise so that he knew that he could come back
down.  And he came back down that tree so fast and ran over to his
mother.  As she had done with the first cub, she patted him on the head,
letting him know that he was a good boy, and he had done what she had
wanted him to do.
     In those days, we always took a tent along to sleep in.  This was
fun for us, we felt very safe in the tents.  However, lately we had been
reading in the papers that the bears were getting a little on the wild side. 
This was because the people were feeding them.  Everyone had been
asked not to feed the bears in the park, but people just had to take a
picture of people in their group feeding a cracker or a cookie to the bears
along the wayside.  We had been cautioned to beware of the bears.  This
one night, at this one particular time, Melvin and Ruth, who had been
married just for a short time, were with Father and me in the park.  We
had been hearing about the bears, so we were all a little cautious about
sleeping in the tent.  We wondered if we should put up the tent and sleep
in it, or whether we should go to the lodge and sleep.  We finally decided
that we would try it this one night.  So Father, as usual, had some straw
that he spread down on the ground, and some boughs and willows to put
on top of that.  Then we put down the quilts.  We were all in the same
tent, Father was on the outside.  Next to him was Melvin, then Ruth.  I
slept next to Ruth on the other outside.  We hadn't been to sleep very long,
when we heard a loud disturbance.  We all got up to see what it was. 
There was a covered wagon right close to us that was full of boy scouts.  It
so happened that a bear had come up into their wagon and had got ahold
of one of the boys' legs.  You can imagine what a commotion it caused. 
The ranger had warned us that if a bear should come into our tent, to hit
on a tin pan to frighten the bear away.  So we all had a pan or a kettle
nearby us with something to hit on it with.  We all hit on these pans, and
the bear soon ran away.  After awhile, we were able to get back to sleep. 
Pretty soon we heard another commotion.  There was a little pup tent on
the other side of us that a couple of honeymooners were in.  A bear had
come by and had put his paw right through the top of the tent and
frightened everyone again.  After that, I wasn't sleeping; I was shivering
on my end of the tent.  I was pushing so hard against Ruth, which made
her push against Melvin, which made him push against Father. 
Consequently, several times before morning, Father was pushed right out
of the tent.  He had to come in through the flap of the tent and come over
and wake me to tell me to get over on my side so that he would have a
place to sleep.
     One other time when we were ready to go up on the Madison River
to fish, Papa asked young Joseph A. if he would like to go along with us. 
Was he ever overjoyed! His mother said, "Well, he can go if Marie will
take care of his boils".  Now, Joseph A. had been having some skin trouble
this summer, he had about 20 boils on his fanny.  And so, as his mother
said he could go if I would take care of the boils, I thought that I could at
least do that.  So, once again, we got all of our camping gear ready and
headed off for the park and the Madison River.  Well, I soon found out
that every day those boils on his fanny --- all 20 of them --- had to be
cleaned out and have fresh salve put on them.  Now, I didn't mind cleaning
them very much, but oh---that salve, it was [Icthiall] and was it ever black!
It got all over me and Joseph A.; we had quite a time with those boils.  But
so it went, we were happy and we caught a lot of fish and had a lot of fun. 
Joseph A. still asks me if I remember the time that I had to take care of the
boils on him.