Dan or Old Tom breaking a leg.

"Men, I've got a better plan," I said. "We'll let the bears here rest
for a spell. Supplies are about gone. Let's go back to Beaver Dam camp
for a week or so. Rest up the hounds. Maybe we'll have a storm and a
cold snap that will improve conditions. Then we'll come back here. I'll
send Haught down to buy off the trappers. I'll pay them to spring their
traps and let us have our hunt without risk of the hounds."

Instantly the men brightened. The insurmountable obstacles seemed to
melt away. Only Haught demurred a little at additional and unreasonable
expense for me. But I cheered him over this hindrance, and the last part
of that evening round the camp-fire was very pleasant.

The following morning we broke camp, and all rode off, except Haught and
his son George, who remained to hunt a strayed burro. "Reckon thet lion
eat him. My best burro. He was the one your boy was always playin' with.
I'm goin' to assassinate thet lion."

On the way back to Beaver Dam camp I happened to be near Takahashi when
he dismounted to shoot at a squirrel. Returning to get back in the
saddle the Jap forgot to approach the mustang from the proper side.
There was a scuffle between Takahashi and the mustang as to which of
them should possess the bridle. The Jap lost this argument. Edd had to
repair the broken bridle. I watched Takahashi and could see that he did
not like the mustang any better than the mustang liked him. Soon the
struggle for supremacy would take place between this ill assorted rider
and horse. I rather felt inclined to favor the latter; nevertheless it
was only fair to Takahashi to admit that his buckskin-colored mustang
had some mean traits.

In due time I arrived at our permanent camp, to be the last to get in.
Lee and his father welcomed us as familiar faces in a strange land. As I
dismounted I heard heavy thuds and cracks accompanied by fierce
utterances in a foreign tongue. These sounds issued from the corral.

"I'll bet the Jap got what was coming to him," declared Lee.

We all ran toward the corral. A bunch of horses obstructed our view, and
we could not see Takahashi until we ran round to the other side. The Jap
had the buckskin mustang up in a corner and was vigorously whacking him
with a huge pole. Not by any means was the mustang docile. Like a mule,
he kicked. "Hey George," yelled Lee, "don't kill him! What's the
matter?"

Takahashi slammed the mustang one parting blow, which