self desperately into the nearest tree. With a roar of disappointed
rage, the grizzly flung himself against it, tearing savagely at the
bark, and stripping it into splinters. Then, clasping the trunk with his
mighty fore-arms, he hugged it with all his might, wrenching it this way
and that in an attempt to break it down.

Dusty Star, on his perch, felt the whole tree shiver beneath him. A tree
of smaller growth must have given way at last to the enormous strain,
whereas a sapling would have yielded like matchwood.

As Dusty Star was aware, a full-grown grizzly rarely climbs. Still, in
the present enraged condition of the brute's feelings, there was no
telling what he might not attempt to do. So, when he saw that the bear,
finding he could not break the tree down by main force, was beginning to
climb it, he was more alarmed than surprised. Yet even then, as he felt
the tree vibrate to the movement of the great body as it came slowly up,
he kept his presence of mind. He threw a quick look round him that took
in all the details at a glance. In an instant he knew what he must do.
When the bear was a third of the way up the trunk, Dusty Star climbed
out along a branch and dropped quickly to the ground. By the time the
grizzly had laboriously climbed down backwards, Dusty Star was out of
sight among the trees.

When the Indians returned that evening, they found the camp a total
wreck; for the bear, disappointed in his attempt to seize Dusty Star,
had turned back to vent his rage upon the tepees. Here, one was
completely torn down; there, another showed wide rents between its
lodge-poles. And where one had apparently escaped, it was found, when
entered, to have its contents torn and thrown about in all directions.

Of Dusty Star himself, they could not see a sign. And the only person
who could have thrown a light upon his disappearance, took the wise
course of holding her tongue. Even the thong which had bound him had
likewise disappeared. For when the terrified squaws had crept back one
by one to the ruined camp, Kitsomax had taken the precaution to bury it
under a bush.

CHAPTER XVII

THE SWIMMING OF KIOPO

When Kiopo had leaped upon the Indian, and had fallen with him over the
precipice edge, he had, like his foe, crashed down to almost certain
death. The Indian, indeed, had been killed instantly, with a broken
neck; but the wolf, instead of falling straight upon the boulders at the
bottom of the gorge, had