"Hold hard!" exclaimed Gideon. "I was forgettin'. The shed was strong as a prison when you an' me built it. But it ain't just the same as 'fore you quitted fer Europe. Young Rube Carter got mussin' around, usin' it as a kennel fer his bear cub. Amazin' fond of animals, that boy is; same as you was yourself at his age, Kiddie. Say, you didn't happen ter let out a bear cub, time you shoved Broken Feather inside, did yer?"
"No," Kiddie chuckled. "There was no bear there, only the rancid stink of one. Nearly knocked me down. Don't wonder at Broken Feather wanting to quit."
"Then I guess Rube let th' beast out early this mornin', while we was at the gulch."
Gideon led the way beyond the corner of the shed and pointed to a well-concealed trap-door in the lower timbers.
"Thar y'are," he went on. "That's sure the way he got out. Clear as print, ain't it?"
"Yes," Kiddie nodded, contemplating the moist ground, which the sun had not yet reached. "There are his footprints, covering the boy's smaller ones. Rube's footmarks were already crushed by the bear's pads, and he didn't turn back to bolt the door as the Indian did. Quite a baby cub it seems. But it will soon need a heavier chain than the one it has now."
"Eh? How d'you know Rube led it out by a chain an' not a rope?"
Kiddie glanced downward.
"Bear trod on it and left an impression," he indicated, as he strode to the trap-door. "The links are thin and small, hardly strong enough to hold in a collie dog, let alone a growing young grizzly."
"Grizzly?" repeated Gideon. "But you've not seen th' critter. Might be a brown bear, or a cinnamon."