enced sportsman. Indeed, any sportsman might have been
proud of this record. Rob turned to look at his friends.

Suddenly he himself sat down, and to his surprise found that he was
trembling violently all over. Jesse and John were both doing the same.
He saw that their faces were deathly pale.

"I'm--I'm--I'm sort of--sort of sick at my stomach!" said Jesse.

X

THE SAVAGE REFUGEE

"Well," said Rob, finally, looking around at his friends and grinning,
"I don't know which of us is the worst scared; but, anyhow, we've got
our game, and a lot of it. Do you suppose we can skin these big
fellows?"

"We'll have to," said John. "There's meat enough to last us a year. That
old bear is bigger than any horse in Valdez."

"And tough as any horse, too," said Rob. "The cubs may be better to eat.
I have heard my father say that bear liver isn't bad; and certainly we
can get all the fat we want to fry our fish. Lucky we've all got our
hunting-knives along; so here goes!"

They now arose and began the difficult task of skinning out the great
bear--slow work for even an experienced hunter. They kept at it,
however, and had made a good beginning when all at once a slight sound
at the edge of the creek bank attracted Rob's attention.

As he turned the others noticed him, and all three of them stood staring
an instant later at the same object: a round, dark face gazing at them
motionless through the grass--a face with cunning little eyes set
slantwise, like those of a Japanese, and long, stringy locks of dark
hair hanging down about the cheeks. Instinctively each boy reached for
his rifle, which he had left leaning against the carcass of the great
bear. Apparently not alarmed, the face kept its place, staring steadily
at them. Rob now guessed the truth, which was that this Aleut savage had
heard the shots and had entered the mouth of the creek in his boat. Not
knowing whether he was friend or foe, Rob motioned the others to follow
him, and approached him with his rifle at a ready.

Seeing that they were not afraid, nor disposed to be driven from their
place, the Aleut savage--for such it proved to be--arose, and with what
he meant to be a smile stretched out his hand as though in friendship.
His gun, a rusty old affair, he left lying on the ground at his side.
Rob kicked it away as he approached.

They now saw how the Aleut had reached them. His boat, a long, native
bidarka, lay in the creek, up which the native had pa