fighter. The bear, too, danced, as if obsessed by some infernal music;
and the skipping, and leaping, and dodging, and waltzing of these two
would have been ludicrous had it not been a matter of life and horrid
death. Through it all Roldan was vaguely conscious of approaching
hoofbeats, but there was no room in his consciousness for hope or
despair. He was not even aware that he was panting as if his lungs and
throat were bursting, nor even that his vision was a trifle blurred from
constant and rapid change of focus and surcharged veins. But he executed
his dance of life as unerringly as if fresh from his bed and bath. The
bear, a clumsy creature at best, and streaming and blinded with his
blood, was slackening a little, but there was life in him yet, and twice
its measure of vengeance. Suddenly he lay down, but became so abruptly
inert that Roldan was not deceived. Instead of putting himself within
reach of those waiting arms he fled with all his strength. It was then
that he knew how fully that strength was spent: his lungs and legs
refused to work with his will and impulse after the first hundred yards,
and he fell to the ground with a sensation of utter indifference,
longing only for physical rest. He heard the bear plunging after, the
loud sound of a horse's hoofs, mingled with a single shout, then gave up
his consciousness.

He awoke in a few moments. Adan was bending over him, propping his head.
"The bear?" he demanded, ashamed of the pitiful quality of his voice.

"I came just in time to rope him," replied Adan. "You were a fool, my
friend, to go off alone like that--but very brave," he added hastily,
knowing that Roldan did not like criticism.

"You are quite right. And this is the second time you and your lariat
have saved me. Perhaps it may be the other way some time."