of steel.

Once only the hunters saw the pair--a momentary Glimpse of a Bear so
huge they half believed Tampico's tale, and a Bear of lesser size in
fur that rolled and rippled in the sun with brown and silver lights.

"Oh, ain't that just the beautifulest thing that ever walked!" and
both the hunters gazed as she strode from view in the chaparral. It
was only a neck of the thicket; they both must reappear in a minute at
the other side, and the men prepared to fire; but for some
incomprehensible reason the two did not appear again. They never quit
the cover, and had wandered far away before the hunters knew it, and
were seen of them no more.

But Faco Tampico saw them. He was visiting his brother with the sheep,
and hunting in the foot-hills to the eastward, in hopes of getting a
deer, his small black eyes fell on a pair of Bears, still love-bound,
roaming in the woods. They were far below him. He was safe, and he
sent a ball that laid the she-Bear low; her back was broken. She fell
with a cry of pain and vainly tried to rise. Then Gringo rushed
around, sniffed the wind for the foe, and Faco fired again. The sound
and the smoke-puff told Gringo where the man lay hid. He raged up the
cliff, but Faco climbed a tree, and Gringo went back to his mate. Faco
fired again; Gringo made still another effort to reach him, but could
not find him now, so returned to his "Silver-brown."

Whether it was chance or choice can never be known, but when Faco
fired once more, Gringo Jack was between, and the ball struck him. It
was the last in Faco's pouch, and the Grizzly, charging as before,
found not a trace of the foe. He was gone--had swung across a place no