“Then all come, and take hold, while we yank him around. It’ll take the united strength of the bunch to slew him out of that crotch,” said Bart, leading the way to the slain animal.
At any rate, the two boys were allowed to see just where their lead had gone.
“Couldn’t ’a been better shots; no sir, not if it was the oldest b’ar hunter of the Rockies!” declared Scotty, as he thrust a finger in the holes and turned a look of genuine admiration on both Frank and his chum.
Bob thought that praise was the limit. The memory of that exciting little event would follow him always. In imagination he would many times see that grizzly heading down the slope, bent on questioning their right to progress along the mountain trail; and the quick action which he and Frank had been compelled to take in order to meet the crisis.
“All together now, yo-heave-o! Here she goes, boys! Once more, and yet another for good luck. Now, over with the old critter, ker-slam!” and as Scotty spoke he led the last effort, by means of which the bulk was pushed over the edge of the little precipice.
There was a heavy thud as the bear brought up far below.
Once more they could start out. The affair with the bear had occupied only a few minutes, all told.
Scotty again took up the tracking of the marked hoof belonging to Old Baldy. The trail still ran upwards toward the crest of the ridge, and there no longer remained a single doubt in the minds of the two boys but that the clever old steer had made his final escape from the secret valley in this way.
They even began to cast their eyes aloft in the hope and expectation that soon they might figure
on just where the break in the rocky wall was to be found, with a passage leading over to the other side of the ridge.