enbow
Camp, do you?" laughed Jennie.

"Well, I would like to help somebody besides Wonota. What do you hear
from your New York dressmaker about Wonota's new outfit, Jennie?"

"It will be shipped right out here to Clearwater before long," announced
the plump girl, with new satisfaction. "Won't Wonota be surprised?"

"And delighted!" added Helen, showing satisfaction too.

At that very moment they rode out of a patch of wood which had hidden
from the girls' eyes a piece of lowland fringed by a grove of northern
cottonwood trees. On the air was borne a deep bellow--a sound that none
of the three had noted before.

"What is that?" demanded Helen, startled and half drawing in her
snorting pony.

"Oh, listen!" cried Jennie. "Hear the poor cow."

Ruth was inclined to doubt. "When you hear a 'cow' bellowing in this
country, look out. It may be a wild steer or a very ugly bull. Let us go
on cautiously."

All three of the ponies showed signs of trepidation, and this fact added
to Ruth's easily aroused anxiety.

"Have a care," she said to Helen and Jennie. "I believe something is
going on here that spells danger--for us at least."

"It's down in the swamp. See the way the ponies look," agreed Jennie.

They quickly came to a break in the cottonwood grove on the edge of the
morass. Instantly the ponies halted, snorting again. Ruth's tried to
rear and turn, but she was a good horsewoman.

"Oh, look!" squealed Helen. "A bear!"

"Oh, look!" echoed Jennie, quite as excited. "A bull!"

"Well, I declare!" exclaimed Ruth, her hands full for the moment with
the actions of her mount. "One would think you were looking at a picture
of Wall Street--with your bulls and your bears I Let me see--do!"

CHAPTER XXII

IN THE CANYON

Ruth wheeled her mount the next moment and headed it again in the right
direction. She saw at last what had caused her two companions such
wonder.

In a deep hole near the edge of the morass was a huge Hereford bull.
Most of the cattle in that country were Herefords.

The animal had without doubt become foundered in the swamp hole; but
that was by no means the worst that had happened to him. While held more
than belly-deep in the sticky mud he had been attacked by the only kind
of bear in all the Rockies that, unless under great provocation, attacks
anything bigger than woodmice.

A big black bear had flung itself upon the back of the bellowing,
struggling bull and was tearing and biting