Briggs reached for her rifle and waited. Now and then little
ribbons of flame flickered over the bed of coal of the campfire,
lighting up the camp momentarily. Elfreda was unafraid for the weapon in
her hands gave her confidence, and the cool touch of the barrel against
her hand steadied it.

The intruder was now coming directly towards her.

The moving object was directly in line with Washington Washington's
tent, and for that reason Miss Briggs would not have dared to fire, even
did she find it necessary to do so.

Her first impulse was to awaken Grace, but upon second thought she
decided to wait. Perhaps it was the Mystery Man returning, though
Elfreda did not believe he would take the chance of getting shot.

"Mercy! It's an animal," gasped the watcher. "A bear!" she added in an
awed whisper, as a faint mountain breeze fanned the campfire into a
flame.

The bear by this time had sniffed its way across the camp, bearing to
the left as it neared her tent, but halting when it reached the pack
that contained their provisions. Here the animal was quite clearly
outlined in the light cast by the fire.

It was a small bear, but it looked very large to Elfreda Briggs, who had
never experienced meeting a bear at such close range. He began clawing
at the pack of provisions and tearing with his teeth at the tough canvas
covering, and had it open before Elfreda realized what he was up to.

"He is eating up our food!" she exclaimed under her breath. Miss Briggs
raised her rifle to fire. She lowered it ever so little as a new thought
occurred to her.

"I'll do it!" she declared, laying the rifle on the ground beside her.
"I probably shall make an awful mess of the attempt, but I am going to
try to rope that beast. I don't believe he will attack me if I miss. If
he does I shall have every incentive to break all running records in my
sprint for the rifle."

Elfreda reached for Grace Harlowe's Mexican lasso, arranged it for
casting, then, after listening briefly to Grace's breathing, stepped
cautiously from the tent.

The bear was tearing at the food and its covering, and grunting with
satisfaction, and the supplies of the Overland Riders were disappearing
at a rate that promised a famine, if Bruin's operations were not
immediately checked. So busy was he that her cautious footsteps were
unheard, and so deep was his snout plunged into the treasure he had
found that he failed to catch the scent of his enemy.

As she nea