Hard to relate this experience the way it happened many years ago. Also since it was told by an elder of the Shoshone who didn't speak good English as he had never much like civilization anyway and so stuck to the known huntin areas in those canyons which actually is Sioux but renegades allowed to wander and live there.
Anyway, one day a white guy in his Model T came chugging along up the mule trail and was pulling a travel trailer of sorts with a canvas top. Aforesaid Indian met this lone adventurer at a river crossing near a hot spring what is on the river. Being it's a very swell place to camp, the two parties decided by sign language to share their "goodies" and so the white guy pulls out his whiskey and the Indian his tobac and peace pipe which he had as he was also known as a genuine peace pipe carrier,
As the night drew to a close and the fire burned down to coals they got more and more communicative and the white guy got quite good and making signs and the Indian at making English words he remembered from boarding school long before. Just about when they both was feeling pretty finished and ready to hit the buffalo robe they hear this blood curdling scream what sounds like a mountain lion. Then they hear a bunch of snorting and big growls such as a big griz might make, only they figured it was out of season for bear as this was pretty much along in the winter time. Nevertheless, not knowing exactly what was taking place and not wanting to exactly find out they grabbed everything and hopped into the model T and took off down the trail away from the action. When they got to the Indian Agency which was half the night travel they told their story to those they had roused up and then they was surprised to see such fear in those Indian Agents that the whole post took off on their mules and whatever they could take off on. Seems that there had been a story going round about a griz and a lion fighting over meat. seems that whenever anyone told this story, only part of the hearers would survive to see the light of day. Those few who escaped would then relate the story to the next group who would then have only a few survivors who escaped to relate the story to the next group. So, said the Indian, when day came only he was still bereathing. He took the story down the mountain and then drove on in that old model T from place to place.
What everyone know is that everywhere he visited whole groups of peoples just disappeared. There's a story that this howling and growling still follows him along wherever this tale is told. You got a choice. Do you stay or do you run! Bulldog