k Jim writhed like a
serpent in the strong grasp of his antagonist, and once or twice it
seemed as if he would succeed in freeing himself, but the captain's
hands had been trained for years to grasp and hold on with vice-like
tenacity, and no efforts could disengage them. The two men swayed to
and fro in their efforts, no sound escaping them, save an occasional
gasp for breath as they put forth renewed energy in the deadly struggle.
At last Black Jim began to give way. He was forced down on one knee,
then he fell heavily on his side, and the captain placed his knee on his
chest.

Just then a peculiar hiss was heard behind them, and the captain,
looking back, observed that a third party had come upon the scene. The
grizzly-bear, which has been described as watching Captain Bunting at
dinner, had left its former position on the brow of the precipice, and,
whether from motives of curiosity, or by accident, we will not presume
to say, had followed the captain's track. It now stood regarding the
two men with an uncommonly ferocious aspect. Its indignation may,
perhaps, be accounted for by the fact that they stood in the only path
by which it could advance--a precipice on one side and a thicket on the
other rendering the passage difficult or impossible. Grizzlies are
noted for their objection to turn out of their way for man or beast, so
the combatants no sooner beheld the ferocious-looking animal than they
sprang up, seized their weapons, and fired together at their common
enemy. Bruin shook his head, uttered a savage growl, and charged. It
seemed as if Black Jim had missed altogether--not to be wondered at
considering the circumstances--and the mixture of shot and slugs from
the blunderbuss was little more hurtful than a shower of hail to the
thick-skinned monarch of these western hills. Be this as it may, the
two men were compelled to turn and flee for their lives. Black Jim,
being the nimbler of the two, was soon out of sight among the rocks of
the precipices, and, we may remark in passing, he did not again make his
appearance. Inwardly thanking the bear for its timely appearance, he
ran at top speed into the mountains, and hid himself among those wild
lonely recesses that are visited but rarely by man or beast.

Captain Bunting endeavoured to save himself by darting up the face of
the precipice on his left, but the foot-hold was bad, and the bear
proved about as nimble as himself, compelling him to leap down