"This is a real joy ride," howled the fat boy, his face already flecked with blood, his clothing torn, from contact with brush and low-hanging limbs, for he was riding close up behind the guide.
"No, Tad is having that," corrected Ned. "He hasn't anything to hold him back, either. He can go as fast as he wishes without having to consider anyone else."
By this time the voices of the dogs were to be heard faintly in the distance. A short time later they were too far away to be heard at all.
In the meantime Tad Butler was hewing his way through the cypress swamp, through occasional thin ridges of cane, over rough ground, keeping his muscular little mount down to work every second of the time.
Tad did not have much time to think about anything save the work in hand. He did not know that he was rapidly converging on the trail of the she-bear.
About two o'clock in the afternoon the lad first heard the yelping of the hounds. They seemed to be approaching him obliquely, which in fact they were.
Tad pulled up sharply and listened. After a short time he rode about, getting the lay of the land, trying to decide in his own mind just what course the bear would take and where his best vantage point would be for getting a shot at her. There was no sound of the approach of the Pony Riders. He knew that they had been distanced perhaps by some miles, and that what was done here Tad Butler would be obliged to do on his own account. He now saw the wisdom of Billy Lilly's plan. Billy, too, had given Tad the better end of the chase, which, as Tad believed, had been done with fore-thought. For this Butler was thankful. He wanted to get a bear.
The lad showed his excitement only in his eyes. Otherwise he was cool and deliberate in all his actions.
Suddenly the yelping of the hounds changed. They were sounding a new note. The yelping had given place to deep baying sounds.
"They've got her!" cried the boy, digging the rowels of his spurs into the sides of his mount. The little animal leaped forward and fairly tore through the brush, with the boy urging her on to renewed efforts regardless of the peril to his own person. Butler knew that baying well. He had heard it before, the first time in the Rocky Mountains, and he knew that there was an animal at bay. He was careful to make as little noise as possible. All at once he burst out into an open space where a strange sight met his gaze.