what thought they could pick it up. But about them big horns,
boys; if they don't happen to be whar I'm headin' fust, then we got
to go another two hours. But chances are, we'll find a flock in one of
them places, an' git a shot afore nightfall sets in."

With this comforting thought, then, the little party once more started
out, after an hour's rest and refreshment. Smithy was doubtless
feeling considerably better. He never complained, even while he limped
sadly at times; and once came near losing his grip, when swinging
across a bad place in the trail; so that he might even have fallen,
only that the ready guide threw an arm around him, having been keeping
conveniently near.

Smithy was proving one thing, at least; he might never turn out to be
much of a hunter; but he surely possessed his father's spirit, when it
came to game qualities. And when he went back home, all the maiden
aunts in creation would never be able to bring that boy back again to
the docile habits that had marked him heretofore, thanks to woman
training. Smithy had had a taste of real outdoors, and would never be
satisfied again to live in that old "sissy" rut.

It was about an hour after the stop that, without warning, the little
party suddenly came upon a monstrous grizzly bear, slowly making his
way diagonally across the track they were following.

At sight of them the animal reared up on his hind quarters, and seemed
to be trying to make up his mind whether he ought to attack these
queer two-legged creatures, or go on about his own business.

Step Hen half raised his gun to his shoulder; but instantly the guide
clapped a hand over the lock. There were no convenient trees in which
they could take shelter from an enraged grizzly; and Toby Smathers
knew too much about these animals to have any wish to find one rushing
at them, wild with rage from a wound.

"Snap--click!"

"Got him that time!" said a delighted voice.

Of course it was Davy Jones. He had swung that kodak of his around,
calmly focussed on the grizzly as the animal reared himself up to a
terrible height, and then pressed the button.

And perhaps after all that was the safest kind of "shooting," when it
came to a matter of grizzly bears. Even one of this ferocious species
would hardly offer any serious objections to having his likeness
preserved, for future generations to gaze upon.

"Keep still, all on you!" warned the guide, who was holding his own
rifle in readiness for i