the wind struck us strong in the
face. The baying of the hounds rang clear and full and fierce. My
horse stood straight up. Then he plunged back and bolted down the
slope. His mouth was like iron. I could neither hold nor turn him.
However perilous this ride I had to admit that at last my horse was
running beautifully. In fact he was running away! He had gotten a hot
scent of that bear. He hurdled rocks, leaped washes, slid down banks,
plunged over places that made my hair stand up stiff, and worst of all
he did not try to avoid brush or trees or cactus. Manzanita he tore
right through, leaving my coat in strips decorating our wake. I had to
hold on, to lie flat, to dodge and twist, and all the time watch for a
place where I might fall off in safety. But I did not get a chance
to fall off. A loud clamoring burst from the hounds apparently close
behind drove my horse frantic. Before he had only run--now he flew!
He left me hanging in the thick branches of a juniper, from which I
dropped blind and breathless and stunned. Disengaging myself from the
broken and hanging branches I staggered aside, rifle in hand, trying
to recover breath and wits.

Then, in that nerveless and shaken condition, I heard the breaking
of twigs and thud of soft steps right above me. Peering up with my
half-blinded eyes I saw a huge red furry animal coming, half obscured
by brush. It waved aside from his broad back. A shock ran over me--a
bursting gush of hot blood that turned to ice as it rushed. "Big
cinnamon bear!" I whispered, hoarsely.

Instinctively I cocked and leveled the rifle, and though I could not
clearly see the red animal bearing down the slope, such was my state
that I fired. Then followed a roaring crash--a terrible breaking
onslaught upon the brush--and the huge red mass seemed to flash down
toward me. I worked the lever of the rifle. But I had forgotten
Haught's caution. I did not work the lever far enough down, so that
the next cartridge jammed in the receiver. With a second shock,
different this time, I tried again. In vain! The terrible crashing
of brush appeared right upon me. For an instant that seemed an age I
stood riveted to the spot, my blood congealing, my heart choking me,
my tongue pasted to the roof of my mouth. Then I dropped the rifle
and whirled to plunge away. Like a deer I bounded. I took prodigious
bounds. To escape--to find a tree to leap into--that was my only
thought. A few rods down the slope--it seemed a