lighted torches over the hole--this was their part. The bear,
disheartened with his long and futile effort to escape, lay on the
uneven surface below, alternately growling and roaring. As the torches
flared above him he sprang to his feet with a vast roar, his eyes as
green and glittering as marsh lights. In a moment a lasso had flown over
his head and he was on his back. But his formidable legs were not to be
encountered rashly. Each was lassoed in turn, also his back; then his
huge lunging body was dragged up the side of the excavation and onto the
sled. There he was bound securely; then the rope about his neck was
loosened and he was fed on a hind quarter of sheep. But it placated him
little. His anger was terrific. He roared until the echoes awoke, and
strained at the rope until it seemed as if his great muscles must
conquer.

But he was powerless, and the procession started: first Roldan and
Benito with their torches; then two vaqueros dragging the sled, the
third holding the rope which encircled the bear's neck, ready to tighten
it on a second's notice. Following were Don Jorge and Don Emilio, then
the two other young torch bearers. Thus was poor Bruin carried
ignominiously out of the forest where he had been lord, to perform for
the benefit of the kind he despised. That night he rested alone in a
high walled corral, liberated by the quick knife of one of the vaqueros,
who sprang through the door just in time to save himself.

There was an angry guest on the ranch that night. The bear's lungs,
which were of the best, had little repose, and he flung himself against
the earth walls of the corral until they quivered with the impact. The
horses in the neighbouring corrals whinnied; the cows in the fields
bellowed. It was a vocal night, and few slept.