he replied, "it is a combination of mind and
eye. Mind tells me that Black Rifle could not clean and dress his bear
unless he got it to water. Mind tells me that a brook is flowing in
the valley just ahead of us, because there is scarcely a valley in the
country that does not have its brook. Eye tells me that Black Rifle
finished his task by the great oak there. Do you not see the huge
buzzards flying above the tree? They are conclusive. Ah, the forest
people gathered fast in numbers! They expected that Black Rifle would
leave them a great feast."

They found a little brook of clear, cold water and, beside it, the
place where Black Rifle had cleaned his bear, reserving afterward the
choice portion for himself.

"When he went on," said Tayoga, "the forest people made a rush for
what he did not want, which was much. Great birds came. We cannot see
their trail through the air, but we can see where they hopped about
here on the ground, tore at the flesh, and fought with one another for
the spoil. A lynx came, and then another, and then wolves. The weasel
and the mink too hung on the outskirts, waiting for what the bigger
animals might leave. Among them they left nothing and they were not
long in the task."

Only shining bones lay on the ground. They had been picked clean and
all the forest people had gone after their brief banquet. The trails
led away in different directions, but that of Black Rifle went on
toward the south. The traces, however, were more distinct than they
had been before he stopped for the bear.

"It is because he is carrying much weight," said Tayoga. "Black Rifle
no longer skips along like a youth, as Red Coat here does."

"You can have all the sport with me you wish," said Grosvenor. "I
don't forget that you saved my life, when by all the rules of logic it
was lost beyond the hope of recovery."

"Black Rifle would not eat so much bear meat himself," said Tayoga,
"nor would he carry such a burden, without good cause. It may be that
he expects us. He has perhaps heard that we are in this region."

"It's possible," said the hunter.

Full of eagerness, they pressed forward on the trail.

CHAPTER VI

BLACK RIFLE

They had been following the trail about half an hour, when Tayoga
noticed that it was growing deeper.

"Ah," he said, "Black Rifle now walks much more slowly, so slow that
he barely creeps, and his feet press down harder. I think he is going
to make another stop."

"Maybe