Suddenly there was a great shouting on the other shore of the island, and following it came the pop of a pistol several times. Cody leaped ashore, and, despite the rough way and the thorns and brush which tore his body, he dashed across the narrow bit of land. He knew Texas Jack had landed and might need his help.
As he ran, however, he suddenly came full tilt against a great, hairy object that was blundering through the brush. Over went the scout, and with an angry “Woof!” the bear darted aside, and a moment later he heard a splash in the lake, and knew that the creature had found the presence of mankind on the island more fear-inspiring than the fire on the mainland.
When Cody picked himself up he beheld the half-clothed figure of Texas Jack standing over him.
“By the piper that played before Pharaoh!” ejaculated Texas. “What’s the matter with you, Buffler? Come an’ git your clo’es—or do you fancy parading around yere in your birthday suit?”
“What—what was that?” demanded the scout.
“A bear. I fell over him myself and drove him off.”
“I thought for a minute it was the madman.”
“Oh, he’s gone,” said Texas Jack. “He ran out of ammunition, I reckon, and he took to the water, clo’es and all. There’s a shallow place yonder. We can wade ashore that way, too, when the fire burns out.”
“He pretty near had me,” said Cody, and related his adventure as he shakingly got into his clothing.
Texas Jack built a fire for them to dry and get warm by, and meanwhile explained that, finding he could not keep the scouts off the island, the Mad Hunter had departed for the mainland, approaching that part where the fire had come nearest to burning itself out.