he braced himself with, "Guess
they're better out of the way; couldn't afford another storeroom
racket," and soon the pine forest had swallowed up the stranger, his
three led horses, and the two little Bears.

"Well, I'm glad he's gone," said Lan, savagely, though he knew quite
well that he was already scourged with repentance. He began to set his
shanty in order. He went to the storehouse and gathered the remnants
of the provisions. After all, there was a good deal left. He walked
past the box where Jack used to sleep. How silent it was! He noted the
place where Jack used to scratch the door to get into the cabin, and
started at the thought that he should hear it no more, and told
himself, with many cuss-words, that he was "mighty glad of it." He
pottered about, doing--doing--oh, anything, for an hour or more; then
suddenly he leaped on his pony and raced madly down the trail on the
track of the stranger. He put the pony hard to it, and in two hours he
overtook the train at the crossing of the river.

"Say, pard, I done wrong. I didn't orter sell them little B'ars,
leastwise not Jacky. I--I--wall, now, I want to call it off. Here's
yer yellow."

"I'm satisfied with my end of it," said the stranger, coldly.

"Well, I ain't," said Lan, with warmth, "an' I want it off."

"Ye're wastin' time if that's what ye come for," was the reply.

"We'll see about that," and Lan threw the gold pieces at the rider and
walked over toward the pannier, where Jack was whining joyfully at the
sound of the familiar voice.

"Hands up," said the stranger, with the short, sharp tone of one who
had said it before, and Lan turned to find himself covered with a .45
navy Colt.

"Ye got the drop on me," he said; "I ain't got no gun; but look-a
here, stranger, that there little B'ar is the only pard I got; he's my
stiddy company an' we're almighty fond o' each other. I didn't know
how much I was a-goin' to miss him. Now look-a here: take back yer
fifty; ye give me Jack an' keep Jill."

"If ye got five hundred cold plunks in yaller ye kin get him; if not,
you walk straight to that tree thar an' don't drop yer hands or turn
or I'll fire. Now start."

Mountain etiquette is very strict, and Lan, being without weapons,
must needs obey the rules. He marched to the distant tree under cover
of the revolver. The wail of little Jack smote painfully on his ear,
but he knew the ways of the mountaineers too well to turn or make
another offer, and the