held on to you fer money. It's too bad you didn't send
word home to your people."

"I sent word home about the big steal of timber. That was before I got
kidnapped. By this time the Government knows."

"Wal, you don't say! Thet was pert of you, youngster. An' will the
Government round up these sharks?"

"Indeed it will. The Government is in dead earnest about protecting the
National Forests."

"So it ought to be. Next to a forest fire, I hate these skinned timber
tracts. Wal, old Penetier's going to see somethin' lively before long.
Youngster, them lumbermen--leastways, them fellers you call Bud an'
Bill, an' such--they're goin' to fight."

The old hunter left me presently, and went outside. I waited awhile for
him, but as he did not return I lay down upon the bearskins and dropped
to sleep. It seemed I had hardly closed my eyes when I felt a hand on my
arm and heard a voice.

"Wake up, youngster. Thar's two old bears an' a cub been foolin' with
one of my traps."

In a flash I was wide awake.

"Let's see your gun. Humph! pretty small--38 caliber, ain't it? Wal,
it'll do the work if you hold straight. Can you shoot?"

"Fairly well."

He took his heavy Winchester, and threw a coil of thin rope over his
shoulder.

"Come on. Stay close to me, an' keep your eyes peeled."

XII. BEARS

The old hunter walked so swiftly that I had to run to keep up with him.
The trail led up the creek, now on one side, again on the other, and
I was constantly skipping from stone to stone. The grassy slopes grew
fewer, and finally gave way altogether to cracked cliffs and weathered
rocks. A fringe of pine-trees leaned over the top with here and there a
blasted spear standing out white.

"I had my trap set up thet draw," said Hiram Bent, as he pointed toward
an intersecting canyon. "Just before I waked you I was comin' along
here, an' I heered an all-fired racket up thar, an' so I watched. Soon
three black bears come paddlin' down, an' the biggest was draggin' the
trap with the chain an' log. Then I hurried to tell you. They can't be
far."

"Are they grizzlies?" I asked, trying to speak naturally.

"Nope. Jest plain black bears. But the one with the trap is a whopper.
He'll go over four hundred. See the tracks? Looks like somebody'd been
plowin' up the stones."

There were deep tracks in the sand, and broad furrows, and stones
overturned, and places where a heavy object had crushed the gravel even
and smooth.

The o