the next morning Kiopo lay
where he was, licking his wounds. When the sun began to beat down upon
the promontory, he dragged himself painfully into the shadows of the
rocks, and remained there for the rest of the day. Dusty Star went in
search of water and found a spring half-way down the gorge. By making a
cup of a broad leaf of skunk cabbage, he was able to carry back a little
water, which Kiopo eagerly drank. He had to make the journey many times,
because no matter how cunningly he twisted the leaf, the pitcher would
find a way of leaking; and although he always started with it as full as
it would hold, it was more than half empty by the time it reached
Kiopo's parched tongue.

There was another thing which Dusty Star found besides the spring. Down
at the precipice foot, not far from the spot where the skunk cabbage
grew, he came upon a large grey body which had broken its neck upon the
rocks. And he knew for a certainty that the Terror of the Carboona would
hunt on his range no more.

Nature, the great Mother of Healing, did her work. With her help, two
nights and a day of rest and licking, and the cool water the Little
Brother brought, enabled Kiopo gradually to regain his strength. Great
was Dusty Star's joy, when, on the second morning after the fight, he
saw Kiopo struggle to his feet and move slowly towards the forest.

They travelled slowly, but, in spite of that, reached home before
sundown, while high over their heads, the tall tops of the spruces
loitered in the golden light. Never had the valley looked more peaceful
than on this still evening of early Fall. The restlessness which had
waxed with the waxing of the moon, seemed to have departed from it on
furtive feet beyond Carboona to the great Shuswap lake where the heavy
waters rest. Yet the valley was not so deserted as it looked. For just
as they came in sight of the camp, a large body was seen to move slowly
away. Kiopo saw it, but did not growl. He recognized it as that of the
old she-bear.

When Goshmeelee became aware of the travellers, she did not quicken her
steps. Why should she? She never hurried unless folks worried her. She
made a special point of living very slowly. It suited her digestion, and
she usually had a great deal to digest. So instead of departing in a
fluster, she sat down heavily in order to contemplate them at her ease.

"Been fighting," she said to herself, as soon as she had taken note of
Kiopo, but she was too polite, or