bear itself heard them shouting, and, having located the presence
of an enemy, now broke cover with a savage roar, limping as best he
could in a vain endeavor to get up the slope and to attack his
enemies. But again and again the rifles spoke, and an instant later
the great bear dropped down and rolled limp at the bottom of the
slope, almost back into the bushes from which he had come.

"He's dead now, all right!" said Alex, even as he held out his hand to
restrain his young companions once more from rushing in on their game.
"Some one hit him in the head that last time. I'm thinking the hide
won't be good for much, for he must be shot full of holes by now!"

Such indeed proved to be the case. The high-power rifles, fired at
close range, with hands excited yet none the less fairly accurate, had
done their work in such fashion as might have finished three or four
bears instead of one even as large as this one proved to be.

Alex turned once more to note the conduct of his young friends as they
gathered at the side of the dead bear. He smiled a little bit grimly.
Whereas their faces had lately been flushed and eager, they now were
just a little pale, and he saw that they all were disposed to tremble
as they stood.

"We're well out of that," said he, quietly. "That's bad as the Parle
Pas. Of course the odds were in our favor, but with a bear of this
size any man or any party is well out of it when they get him down.
But here's your grizzly, young gentlemen."

"My, isn't he a whale!" said Jesse. "There's plenty of meat, I should
think."

"Yes, we've killed him," said Alex, "but what good is he to us?
Grizzlies aren't good to eat, even when they are feeding on berries,
as this one is."

"Never mind," said Rob; "this is a pretty good robe, I want to tell
you, even if it is only in August. It is finer and closer than our
Alaska bears; see how white on the shoulders and face. I believe he's
about as ugly a customer, too, as most of our big Alaska bears, that
live on fish."

"Yes," said Alex, "he's what you call a bald-face, and whether there's
any truth in it or not, Injuns always say that these white-faced bears
are the most savage. Look at his claws--they're white too. All of them
perfect, however, which shows that he hasn't been digging among the
rocks very much, but has been feeding in low country for quite a
while. I suppose Moise would call this bear his cousin, and I doubt if
he'd want to help skin him. But tha