As he galloped Tootsie turned in the saddle and blew the “advance” at the bear, and a moment later the “charge.”
The bear was doing his best at both orders, but the fleet bay mare was too swift for him, and at last he gave it up and turned to sniff toward some of the others.
Tootsie was on the alert, and rode back, stopping a few rods from the bear to serenade him.
The bear looked at the bugler in disgust for a moment, and then started slowly back toward the mountain. Tootsie galloped alongside, far enough away for safety, and continued to serenade the monster.
The animal stopped several times, and, sitting on its haunches, looked quizzically at the boy with the bugle; then he would move on slowly. At last he sat up and, sticking his nose in air, emitted a mournful howl that made the pards shout with laughter.
“Why don’t yer shoot ’im, Tootsie?” asked Nomad.
“He ain’t my bear!” yelled Tootsie, who was having fun enough with the animal as it was.
“Ef yer ever wants ter kill er grizzly now’s yer chanst, boy—take ’im in ther front when ’e throws ’is head back ter holler.”
“Oh! I’d rather let ’im go. Perhaps he’ll ketch an Injun some day, an’ that’s excuse enough for livin’.”
The bear had started on again, but when Tootsie dashed up beside and blew a long blast at him the animal again sat up and howled mournfully. Whenever he stopped Tootsie again blew at him and the bear gave vent to that mournful sound.