When the light awoke Two Arrows, he found One-eye standing guard as if
he did not like the look of things, but no danger showed itself. It was
a new country--too much so, perhaps--and a dog with a high sense of duty
could not be too careful. Two Arrows also had duties, and he felt that
one of them was to go back at once and tell his band what he had
discovered. He had no idea that they were already on the march, or he
might have been less troubled in mind about them. His other duty, not
quite so plain, was to explore the valley a little and see how many
buffaloes and deer and all that sort of thing were in it. He wondered at
the greenness of the grass, not knowing that the mountain range east of
it took care of that, taking the water out of the winds from the west so
that they were often sponge-dry when they passed over upon the parching
plains beyond. He had never heard of Eden and he could not make any
comparisons, but he roundly declared that he had never been in a place
that promised better hunting. He did not even ask himself how a herd of
bisons should remember what their fathers had told them about that
valley and come hundreds of miles to find grass there. He had not seen
one yet, but he had caught a glimpse of a gang of deer in rapid motion.
That fact set him to thinking and made him cautious, for it was an hour
when deer are feeding unless they have been disturbed. He cooked and ate
his breakfast, providing liberally for One-eye, but could hardly make up
his mind in which direction to go. There was the mouth of the canon,
telling him one thing, and in all other directions were the possible
secrets of that valley.

His feet took him along, at last, and he wandered for nearly a mile
before he came to any sort of adventure. Then he suddenly discovered why
the deer were in motion, and why it was time for him and One-eye to
wander back again. It was almost as bad as a war-party of another tribe
or even a band of wicked pale-faces, for at the edge of a little grove
of wild plum-trees One-eye broke out into something between a howl and a
bark, and turned, running towards his master. Then Two Arrows himself
turned and ran, for his quick eyes caught the meaning of it. The head of
a grisly bear came out between two bushes, and no idea of heroism called
for any waiting. The canon, or the ruins, or almost any other place,
would have been better, at that moment, than the spot where he was when
Bruin saw him.

The grisly