“That was a hit!” cried Grace.
Stacy galloped his pony up the other side of the mountain.
“Came near making a meal of you, didn’t he, Uncle Hip?” called Stacy as he came up with Lieutenant Wingate.
Hippy shook his head.
“I tried to shoot him between the eyes, but he dodged as I pulled the trigger. Next time I couldn’t do any fine aiming because the bear was too close. Do you see what he is—a big cinnamon bear? I am going to have that skin. Go back and tell them to wait until I finish this job, and that we are going to have bear steak for supper to-night.”
Stacy galloped back with the message, then Tom rode out to assist in the skinning and to select such meat as he wished to carry with them. The bearskin proved to be very heavy, but Hippy insisted on taking it along, first, however, treating the skin so that it would keep until they reached a place where the curing and tanning might be continued.
Woo, upon observing the bear skin and the steaks taken from the animal, lapsed into song, which Stacy pretended not to hear. It irritated Chunky to listen to that “Hi-lee, hi-lo!” and put him into a fighting humor.
An hour after their delayed start they topped the rise on the opposite side of the canyon and paused to gaze over the peaks and rugged mountain-tops that lay before them in a vast panorama. Over yonder in the clouds hung the snow-capped peaks of the High Sierras, now and then taking on a purple shade from some tinted cloud.
“It doesn’t seem possible that we shall be able to make those mountains with our ponies, does it?” wondered Elfreda.
“Are we going there?” demanded Stacy.