In spite of his position the sun and wind made him sleepy. Perhaps he dozed. He had seen and heard nothing. But suddenly as he turned his head he saw a girl a few yards away from the old eating-camp.
For a moment Angus did not believe his eyes. It seemed one of those vague visions which flit across the mental retina in that dim shadowland between wakefulness and slumber. She was looking down into the finder of a camera, while back of her, reins lying on its neck instead of a-trail, stood a pony. She was tall and straight, and a crown of hair shone to the slope of the afternoon's sun, for she was using a pony hat to shield the camera's lens.
Angus gaped and blinked, and then he knew it was no dream vision, but real flesh and blood. Just then she got her picture and took a step or two in his direction, winding up the film.
"Hi!" Angus hailed, "don't come here. Get on your pony, quick."
Being very much in earnest, voice and words were harsh, peremptory. The girl stopped short and looked around. Then for the first time she saw him perched on the wall.
"I beg your pardon!" she said, her voice carrying clear and full, a touch of hauteur in her tone answering the harshness of Angus' command. "I'm not to come there, you say. Why not?" Her chin lifted as she spoke and she took another step forward.
"Bear!" Angus returned. "Get back, I tell you. I'm treed by a bad grizzly. Get on your pony and pull out before he sees you."
The girl stopped. "Do you mean that?" she demanded incredulously.
"Do I mean it?" Angus yelled, exasperated by her delay and frightened at her very real danger. "Get a move on you, woman, if you have any sense! He hears you now!"
His tone left no doubt of his sincerity, and the girl, turning, ran toward her pony. But the animal, not being anchored by the reins, sidled away at her swift approach.