The charming little gypsy child who, in her bright colored dress and purple headdress looked more like an animated doll than a child, played little part in the bit of life drama played at the crest of the mountain by Petite Jeanne and her friends until, after breakfast of bacon, toast and delicious coffee, the members of the party left the hunting lodge to wend their way up the mountainside.
They were approaching the skyline landing field. A sharp, bleak wind, whispering of approaching winter, cut at their cheeks and tore away at the broken and twisted fir trees that made up the advance guard of timberline.
The little gypsy girl was in the lead. Of a sudden she paused and, pointing excitedly, exclaimed, “See! Teddy bears! And do look! They are alive! One of them stuck his tongue out at me!”
The older members of the party did not share the little girl’s happy animation. To their consternation they discovered two grizzly bear cubs half hidden among the rocks not a dozen paces away.
“Come!” said Madame, seizing the child’s hand. There was a quaver of fear in her voice.
“But why?” The child Vida’s round face suddenly took on a sober look. “They are pretty bears. And they are alive. I know they are.”
Jeanne too knew they were alive, and Danby Force knew. They also realized that bear-cub twins usually had a mother close by, and a mother bear spelled trouble.
“We—we’ve got to get out of here!” Danby’s words were low, but tense with emotion. The airplane was still a quarter of a mile away.
“Come!” Madame voiced a sharp command as the child hung back. Next moment the child found herself on Danby’s shoulder, and they were all hurrying away toward their plane.
Jeanne’s heart had gone into a tailspin. Were they going to make it? Was the mother bear close at hand, or had she gone some distance in her search for food?