The woman laughed and shrugged her shoulders. "Look yonder at the roots
of the tree. You're a d--d smart man for a sheriff, ain't you?"

The man uttered an exclamation and spurred his horse forward, but the
animal reared in terror. He then sprang to the ground and approached the
tree. The shape lay there, a scarcely distinguishable bulk.

"A grizzly, by the living Jingo! Shot through the heart."

It was true. The strange shape lit up by the flaring torches seemed more
vague, unearthly, and awkward in its dying throes, yet the small shut
eyes, the feeble nose, the ponderous shoulders, and half-human foot
armed with powerful claws were unmistakable. The men turned by a common
impulse and peered into the remote recesses of the wood again.

"Hi, Mister! come and pick up your game. Hallo there!"

The challenge fell unheeded on the empty woods.

"And yet," said he whom the woman had called the sheriff, "he can't be
far off. It was a close shot, and the bear hez dropped in his tracks.
Why, wot's this sticking in his claws?"

The two men bent over the animal. "Why, it's sugar, brown sugar--look!"
There was no mistake. The huge beast's fore paws and muzzle were
streaked with the unromantic household provision, and heightened the
absurd contrast of its incongruous members. The woman, apparently
indifferent, had taken that opportunity to partly free one of her
wrists.