By Lars Sanders
Back in 1936, when I was 16 years old, and my next oldest brother was 20, he left our home in northern Minnesota to go out in the world and seek his fortune. More than a month later we got a letter from him telling us that he had a job with the Yellowstone Park Service. He said that he drove a dump truck part of the time, but that for the most part, he and a partner would take a pack-sack of food, bedroll, and an ax and saw and go out to clean or clear hiking trails, sometimes for a week.
I answered his letter and among other things I asked him what they done about grizzly bears, as they were not allowed to have a rifle. About a month or two later he answered my letter, and about the bears he said the grizzly don’t bother me, because each time I choose a partner for the week, I make darn sure that he can’t run as fast as I can!