iling on the ground in the creature's wake.
Presently the whole thing ceased to move, and sat still like a great
loathsome toad--a silent, uncanny heap amidst the lank prairie grass.
And somehow he felt glad that it was no longer approaching.

The moments crept by, and the position remained unchanged. Then
slowly, with an air of settled purpose, the creature raised itself on
its hind legs, and, swaying and shuffling, continued its advance. In
an instant Tresler's revolver leapt from its holster, and he was ready
to defend himself. The attitude was familiar to him. He had read
stories of the bears in the Rockies, and they came home to him now as
he saw his adversary rear itself to its full height. His puzzlement
was over; he understood now. He was dealing with a large specimen of
the Rocky Mountain grizzly.

Yes, there could be no mistaking the swaying gait, the curious,
snorting breathing, the sadly lolling head and slow movements. He
remembered each detail with an exactness which astonished him, and was
thrilled with the bristling sensation which assails every hunter when
face to face with big game for the first time in his life.

He raised his gun, and took a long, steady aim, measuring the distance
with deliberation, and selecting the animal's breast for his shot.
Then, just as he was about to fire, the brute's head turned and caught
the cold, sharp moonlight full upon its face. There was a momentary
flash of white, and Tresler's gun was lowered as though it had been
struck down.

CHAPTER VIII

JOE NELSON INDULGES IN A LITTLE MATCH-MAKING

The moonlight had revealed the grotesque features of Joe Nelson!

Tresler returned his gun to its holster precipitately, and his action
had in it all the chagrin of a man who has been "had" by a practical
joker. His discomfiture, however, quickly gave way before the humor of
the situation, and he burst into a roar of laughter.

He laughed while he watched his bear drop again to his hands and
knees, and continue to crawl toward him, till the tears rolled down
his cheeks. On came the little fellow, enveloped in the full embracing
folds of a large brown blanket, and his silent dogged progress warned
Tresler that, as yet, his own presence was either unrealized or
ignored in the earnestness of his unswerving purpose. And the nature
of that purpose--for Tresler had fully realized it--was the most
laughable thing of all. Joe was stalking his buckskin pony with the
sensel