Frank had a queer feeling as he dropped to the ground and stood over his big game. Deep down in his heart he envied his chum, because
Jerry had been able to kill his grizzly while the beast was charging him.
"It may be all right," he said to Mr. Mabie, "and it's a good thing to get rid of these savage animals in any old way, but I hope I don't take part in another affair like this. He had no chance, poor old chap."
The old rancher looked admiringly at the boy.
"Those sentiments do you proud, lad, and I appreciate them, too; but business, in my line, must go ahead of sentiment, and this old Charlie was doing me a bad turn. My herds will rest easier now that he is gone," he said feelingly.
Leaving Billy and Reddy to secure the hide of the second grizzly, the others returned to camp. Restless Jerry tried the fishing again, and as before, success came his way.
"I'd give something to have my little Red Rover here, in that swift water," sighed Bluff, as he and Frank sat on the edge of the bluff, listening to the rush of the river while it sped on its way to the lower country.
"Well, a canoe might be fine for shooting downstream, but I don't believe you'd find it as safe in the rapids as those hide boats. The rocks can't smash in their sides, like cedar or canvas craft. Better to do as the natives do, I find, whenever I
go anywhere. They know by experience what's best," returned Frank wisely.
"Look there! A cowboy coming like the wind up the river, waving his hat over his head! Say! d'ye suppose anything's gone wrong at the ranch, and we'll have to cut our hunt short?" exclaimed Bluff anxiously.