th their riders were dragged forward more and more, long
grooves being plowed behind; dragging them, he backed faster and
faster still. His eyes were starting, his tongue lolling out.

"Keep on! hold tight!" was the cry, till the ropers swung together,
the better to resist; and Monarch, big and strong with frenzied hate,
seeing now his turn, sprang forward like a shot. The horses leaped and
escaped--almost; the last was one small inch too slow. The awful paw
with jags of steel just grazed his flank. How slight it sounds! But
what it really means is better not writ down.

The riders had slipped their ropes in fear, and the Monarch, rumbling,
snorting, bounding, trailed them to the hills, there to bite them off
in peace, while the remnant of the gallant crew went, sadly muttering,
back.

Bitter words went round. Kellyan was cursed.

"His fault. Why didn't we have the guns?"

"We were all in it," was the answer, and more hard words, till Kellyan
flushed, forgot his calm, and drew a pistol hitherto concealed, and
the other "took it back."

[Illustration: "RUMBLING AND SNORTING, HE MADE FOR THE FRIENDLY
HILLS"]

XV. THE FOAMING FLOOD

"What is next, Lan?" said Lou, as they sat dispirited by the fire that
night.

Kellyan was silent for a time, then said slowly and earnestly, with a
gleam in his eye: "Lou, that's the greatest Bear alive. When I seen
him set up there like a butte and swat horses like they was flies, I
jest loved him. He's the greatest thing God has turned loose in these
yer hills. Before to-day, I sure wanted to get him; now, Lou, I'm
a-going to get him, an' get him alive, if it takes all my natural
days. I think I kin do it alone, but I know I kin do it with you," and
deep in Kellyan's eyes there glowed a little spark of something not
yet rightly named.

They were camped in the hills, being no longer welcome at the ranch;
the ranchers thought their price too high. Some even decided that the
Monarch, being a terror to sheep, was not an undesirable neighbor. The
cattle bounty was withdrawn, but the newspaper bounty was not.

"I want you to bring in that Bear," was the brief but pregnant message
from the rich newsman when he heard of the fight with the riders.

"How are you going about it, Lan?"

Every bridge has its rotten plank, every fence its flimsy rail, every
great one his weakness, and Kellyan, as he pondered, knew how mad it
was to meet this one of brawn with mere brute force.

"S