"It's a b'ar, a big grizzly," exclaimed Kirkby.
The huge brute was battered out of all semblance of life, but that it was a grizzly bear was clearly evident. Further on the two men caught sight suddenly of a dash of blue. Kirkby stepped over to it, lifted it in his hand and silently extended it to Maitland. It was a sweater, a woman's sweater. They recognized it at once. The old man shook his head. Maitland groaned aloud.
"See yere," said Kirkby, pointing to the ragged and torn garment where evidences of discoloration still remained, "looks like there'd bin blood on it."
"Heavens!" cried Maitland, "not that bear, I'd rather anything than that."
"W'atever it is, she's gone," said the old man with solemn finality.
"Her body may be in these logs here—"
"Or in the lake," answered Kirkby gloomily; "but w'erever she is we can't git to her now."
"We must come back with dynamite to break up this jam and—"
"Yep," nodded the old man, "we'll do all that, of course, but now, arter we search this jam o' logs I guess there's nothin' to do but go back, an' the quicker we git back to the settlement, the quicker we can git back here. I think we kin strike acrost the mountains an' save a day an' a half. There's no need of us goin' back up the cañon now, I take it."
"No," answered the other. "The quicker the better, as you say, and we can head off George and the others that way."