the
spot where the cubs were frollicking. She must circle, come out down
yonder behind a pile of rocks, slip behind the great cedar right at the
base of the cliffs, and edge on from there on her hands and knees.

But she paused a moment, fascinated, watching them. They were sitting
up, their small brown heads shaking from side to side, their sharp eyes
watching each other, their little red tongues lolling. They were such
baby things, their awkward bodies so like the little bodies of babies
just taking the first faltering step, that she wanted to rush at them
and pick them up and hug them.

There was the angry snarl of a rifle, sudden and sharp and evil, and
one of the little brown bears made an inarticulate whining moan and its
playful spirit ran out in red to dye the grass. Its brother fell over
backwards in its fright; there came a second shot, the whining of a
bullet glancing from a rock, and the cub plunged into the brush. She
saw it a moment, lost it, saw it once more running as only the
frightened wild things can run as it sped down into a little hollow
which hid it from the hunter and thus saved its life, and then she
discerned it climbing wildly, clawing its terrified way up the great
cedar against the cliffs. When no third shot came she knew that the
hunter had not seen it and then, with an angry fire in her eyes, she
turned to learn who he might be. Approaching her from the edge of the
grove, a complacent smile upon his face, his rifle under his arm, was
Sledge Hume.

"Oh!" she cried when he had come close, thinking that he must have seen
her. "Why did you do that? It was like murder!"

He stopped dead in his tracks, and then swung toward her. He was so
close that she saw a quick, startled look leap up in his eyes.

"Murder?" he said sharply. "What do you mean?"

He had not lifted his hat, it was not Sledge Hume's way to trouble
himself with the small civilities. He came on again until he stood
quite close to her, staring coolly into her flushed face.

"They were playing just like babies!" she cried breathlessly. "Why did
you kill it?"

He laughed.

"Hardly for its skin, since I suppose it isn't worth much," he answered
carelessly. "Hardly for its meat as I'm not going to trouble with it.
Why, I suppose just for fun then. Because," his tone and eyes touched
with a hint of contempt for what to him was a woman's squemishness,
"because I wanted to."

Her eyes flashed her growing anger