valley for
a while, but you can bet he ain't goin' to emigrate. The harder you hit a
grizzly the madder he gets, an' if you keep on hittin' 'im he keeps on
gettin' madder, until he drops dead. If you want that bear bad enough we
can surely get him."

"I do," Langdon reiterated with emphasis. "He'll smash record measurements
or I miss my guess. I want him, and I want him bad, Bruce. Do you think
we'll be able to trail him in the morning?"

Bruce shook his head.

"It won't be a matter of trailing," he said. "It's just simply _hunt_.
After a grizzly has been hit he keeps movin'. He won't go out of his range,
an' neither is he going to show himself on the open slopes like that up
there. Metoosin ought to be along with the dogs inside of three or four
days, an' when we get that bunch of Airedales in action, there'll be some
fun."

Langdon sighted at the fire through the polished barrel of his rifle, and
said doubtfully:

"I've been having my doubts about Metoosin for a week back. We've come
through some mighty rough country."

"That old Indian could follow our trail if we travelled on rock," declared
Bruce confidently. "He'll be here inside o' three days, barring the dogs
don't run their fool heads into too many porcupines. An' when they
come"--he rose and stretched his gaunt frame--"we'll have the biggest time
we ever had in our lives. I'm just guessin' these mount'ins are so full o'
bear that them ten dogs will all be massacreed within a week. Want to bet?"

Langdon closed his rifle with a snap.

"I only want one bear," he said, ignoring the challenge, "and I have an
idea we'll get him to-morrow. You're the bear specialist of the outfit,
Bruce, but I think he was too hard hit to travel far."

They had made two beds of soft balsam boughs near the fire, and Langdon now
followed his companion's example, and began spreading his blankets. It had
been a hard day, and within five minutes after stretching himself out he
was asleep.

He was still asleep when Bruce rolled out from under his blanket at dawn.
Without rousing Langdon the young packer slipped on his boots and waded
back a quarter of a mile through the heavy dew to round up the horses. When
he returned he brought Dishpan and their saddle-horses with him. By that
time Langdon was up, and starting a fire.

Langdon frequently reminded himself that such mornings as this had made him
disappoint the doctors and rob the grave. Just eight years ago this June he
ha