armpit Major
Henry pulled down on the arm and shoved up against it with his heel at
the same time. That hurt. Jed turned very white, and let out a big
grunt--but we heard a fine snap, and we knew that the head of the
arm-bone had chucked back into the shoulder-socket where it belonged.

So that was over; and we were glad,--Jed especially. We bound his arm
with a handkerchief sling across to the other shoulder, to keep the
joint in place for a while, and we went at his leg.

The old bear's paw had cuffed him on the shoulder and then must have
slipped down and landed on his calf as he sprawled. The boot-top had
been ripped open and the claws had cut through into the flesh, tearing a
set of furrows. It was a bad-looking wound and was bleeding like
everything. But the blood was just the ordinary oozy kind, and so we let
it come, to clean the wound well. Then we laid some sterilized gauze
from our first-aid outfit upon it, to help clot the blood, and sifted
borax over, and bound it tight with adhesive plaster, holding the edges
of the furrows together. Over that we bound on loosely a dry pack of
other gauze.

We left Jed (who was pale but thankful) with Red Fox Scout Ward and went
up to the bear. Kit Carson wanted to see her. She was still dead, and
off on the edge of the brush her two cubs were sniffing in her
direction, wondering and trying to find out.

Yes, that had been a nervy stand made by Scout Van Sant, and a good
shot. Fitzpatrick reached across and shook his hand again.

"I don't know whether I stopped to thank you, but it's worth doing
twice. I'm much obliged."

"Don't mention it," laughed Van Sant.

Then we all laughed. That was better. There isn't much that can be said,
when you feel a whole lot. But you _know_, just the same. And we all
were Scouts.

Somehow, the big limp body of the old mother bear now made us sober. We
hadn't intended to kill her, and of course she was only protecting her
cubs. It wasn't our mountain; and it wasn't our berry-patch. She had
discovered it first. We had intruded on her, not she on us. It all was
a misunderstanding.

So we didn't gloat over her, or kick her, or sit upon her, now that she
could not defend herself. But we must do some quick thinking.

"Kit Carson, you and Bridger catch Apache," ordered Major Henry. "Fitz
and I will help Scout Van Sant skin his bear."

"She's not my bear," said Scout Van Sant. "I won't take her. She belongs
to all of us."

"Well," c