"Because I shot him about a mile the other side of the creek," answered Vaughn. "He was a small bear and he didn't appear to be very much frightened."
The boys had a good laugh at the fat boy's expense.
"That was another bear, probably the child of the one we chased," declared Stacy, not to be downed thus easily.
"Perhaps," agreed Cale. "But that doesn't explain the peculiar actions of these fellows, nor of the first one. Charlie, how did the bears act when you first saw them?" he demanded, turning to the Indian.
"Him smell for something—so." The half-breed went through the motions of sniffing over the ground, against the trees, and toward the tents.
"Just so," nodded Vaughn. "The question is, what caused them to do that? Something here must have attracted them. Do you know what it was?"
"Not know," muttered the Indian.
"Do you know, Master Stacy?" fixing a keen gaze on the fat boy.
"How should I know?" replied Stacy indifferently.
"I didn't know but perhaps you might," returned Cale. The guide stood his rifle against a tree and walked about the camp with apparent carelessness, looking into the tents, examining the provisions through which the bears had foraged. Finally he returned to Chunky.