re sank as the night progressed, and the situation of the
couple, no less than that of their friends, became anything but hopeful.

They were still a long way from the post, where they could feel secure,
and the Indians were certain to press them hard. They were so much more
numerous than the little band of fugitives that the advantage lay wholly
with them.

But the night passed without disturbance. Then the pony and the two
youths awoke simultaneously, for they were aroused by one of the most
startling causes that can be conceived: It was the screaming whinny of
Tim Brophy's horse--a cry rarely heard from the animal, and only when in
the very extremity of mortal terror.

CHAPTER VII.

STIRRING TIMES.

Warren Starr and Tim Brophy sprang up at the same instant. The gray
light of the early wintry morning was stealing through the rocky
solitude, the snow had ceased falling, and the weather was colder than
on the preceding evening. The pony also began struggling to his feet,
but the youths in their excitement paid no heed to him.

"It's Billy," whispered Tim.

"Yes; let's see what is the matter."

The young Irishman had formed the decision a moment before, for he was
as ready to defend his horse as a friend. He bounded out from the rude
shelter, with his companion at his heels.

It was but a short distance to the spot where he had left the animal to
spend the night. The boys dropped their blankets, but each grasped his
Winchester, confident that there was call for its use.

It was on a small natural clearing, where, after grazing a few minutes
in the dark, the pony had lain down to sleep, his instinct leading him
to select the side of a towering rock, where he was well protected from
the falling snow. This bare place was less than a quarter of an acre in
extent, and narrowed to what might be called a point, where the horse
had found refuge from the storm. Surrounded by bowlders, varying in
height from eight or more feet to twice that extent, his only means of
entering or leaving was through the opening at the extreme end, which
was not less than a rod in width.

The pony had probably risen to his feet with the first coming of
daylight, when he was confronted by the most terrifying sight
conceivable; a colossal grizzly bear stood in the middle of the "door,"
calmly surveying him, and evidently of the belief that he had come upon
the most palatable kind of breakfast, which was already secured to him
beyo