"Oh—hush."
"Ay, yi, Roldan! Roldan!"
The horses were standing upright, neighing pitifully. Adan gave a hoarse gurgle and crossed himself.
"The adventures have begun," said Roldan.
In a great swath of moonlight on a ledge some yards above them, standing on his hind legs and swinging his forepaws goodnaturedly, was an immense grey bear. Suddenly he extended his arms sociably, almost affectionately.
"We cannot retreat down that steep trail," said Roldan, rapidly. "He could follow faster and the horses would fall. To the left! in the brush, quick!—a bear cannot run sideways on a mountain."
The boys dug their spurs into the trembling mustangs, who responded with a snort of pain and plunged into the thicket. Only the bold skill of the riders saved them from pitching sidewise down the steep slope, despite the brush, for they were unshod and their knees had weakened.
But the grizzly, alas! was still master of the situation. In less than a moment the boys saw him lumbering along above them. He evidently had possession of a trail, more or less level.
"Dios de mi alma!" cried Adan. "If he gets ahead of us he will come down and meet us somewhere. We shall be lost—eaten even as a cat eats a mouse, a coyote a chicken."
"You will look well lining the dark corridors of the bear, my friend. Your yellow jacket with those large red roses, which would make a bull sweat, would hang like tapestry in the houses of Spain. Those hide boots, spotted with mud, and the blood of the calf, would keep him from wanting another meal for many a long day—"