"Don't understand that," whispered Bonamy.

"It's B'ar, all right," was the answer; and the dog, bounding high,
went straight toward the foe.

Jack heard him coming, smelt him coming, and at length saw him coming;
but it was the smell that roused him--the full scent of the bully of
his youth. The anger of those days came on him, and cunning enough to
make him lurk in ambush: he backed to one side of the trail where it
passed under a root, and, as the little yellow tyrant came, Jack hit
him once, hit him as he had done some years before, but now with the
power of a grown Grizzly. No yelp escaped the dog, no second blow was
needed. The hunters searched in silence for half an hour before they
found the place and learned the tale from many silent tongues.

"I'll get even with him," muttered Bonamy, for he loved that
contemptible little yap-cur.

"That's Pedro's Gringo, all right. He's sure cunning to run his own
back track. But we'll fix him yet," and they vowed to kill that Bear
or "get done up" themselves.

Without a dog, they must make a new plan of hunting. They picked out
two or three good places for pen-traps, where trees stood in pairs to
make the pillars of the den. Then Kellyan returned to camp for the ax
while Bonamy prepared the ground.

As Kellyan came near their open camping-place, he stopped from habit
and peeped ahead for a minute. He was about to go down when a movement
caught his eye. There, on his haunches, sat a Grizzly, looking down on