his appearance.

When the man appeared, a smoking double-barreled rifle in his hand,
George saw a tall, ungainly figure with long legs, a long, slim
body, very high cheek bones, and rather stern and uncompromising
blue eyes.

The newcomer was dressed in the leather jacket usually worn by
trappers in that district, leather leggins, moccasins, and fur cap.
A belt of red leather, probably colored and tanned by some Indian
process, was drawn tightly about his waist. There were gold rings
in his ears which swung an inch down on his brown cheeks.

"Hello, sonny!" the man said, advancing into the cavern, standing
the butt of his rifle on the rock, and leaning on the barrel.

"Say," the boy almost shouted, springing forward and extending his
hand, "that's about the best shooting I've seen in a year!"

"The place to hit a bear," the new-comer replied, "is in the neck,
right about where the spinal cord starts to crawl under the skull."

"It's a good thing you came along just as you did," George stated.
"I can't begin to tell you how grateful I am, and so you'll have to
take that for granted. You saved my life!"

"I'm Antoine," the other said, in a moment, after a casual survey
of the boy. "I'm a hunter and trapper. I saw the bears looking
in, and knew from the smoke coining out that there was a human
being in here, too. Knowing that bears and humans don't mix