that all those massive timbers, all that ponderous
mass of rock, had only availed to capture one very small Ute pappoose.
At the thought of it, the builder of the trap was astounded. He
laughed aloud at the absurdity. In silence he threw off the rock
and lid and seated himself on the edge of the open trap. Captor and
captive then gazed at each other with gravity. The errant infant's
attire consisted of a calico shirt of gaudy hues, a pair of little
moccasins, much frayed, and a red flannel string. This last was tied
about his straggling hair, which fell over his forehead like the
shaggy mane of a _bronco_ colt and veiled, but could not obscure, the
brightness of his black eyes.

He did not cry; in fact, this small stoic never even whimpered, but he
held the bacon, or what remained of it, clasped tightly to his breast
and gazed at his captor in silence. Glancing at the bacon, the captain
saw it all. Hunger had induced this wee wanderer to enter the trap,
and in detaching the bait, he had sprung the trigger and was caught.

"What are you called, little one?" asked the captain at length, in a
reassuring voice, speaking Spanish very slowly and distinctly.

"Osito," replied the wanderer in a small piping voice, but with the
dignity of a warrior.

"Little Bear!" the captain repeated, and burst into a hearty laugh,
immediately checked, however by the thought that now he had caught
him, what was he to do with him? The first thing, evidently, was to
feed him.

So he conducted him to the cabin and there, observing the celerity
with which the lumps of sugar vanished, he saw at once that Little
Bear was most aptly named. Then, sometimes leading, and sometimes
carrying him, for Osito was very small, he set out for the Ute
encampment.

Their approach was the signal for a mighty shout. Warriors, squaws and
the younger confreres of Osito, crowded about him. A few words from
the captain explained all, and Osito himself, clinging to his mother,
was borne away in triumph--the hero of the hour. Yet, no--the captain
was that, I believe. For as he stood in their midst with a very
pleased look on his sunburnt face, the chief quieting the hubbub with
a wave of his hand, advanced and stood before him. "The great captain
has a good heart," he said in tones of conviction. "What can his Ute
friends do to show their gratitude?"

"Nothing," said the captain, looking more pleased than ever.

"The captain has been troubled by the bears. Woul