It was all so ludicrous that he wanted to roll in the snow with laughter. Yet there was a more serious side. Neither of the bears had received a mortal wound. Tumbling about as they were now, there was little chance for a good shot. How long would it be before they discovered their mistake and came charging up the hill? Nocking a second arrow, he awaited the next turn of events.
* * * * * * * *
From her island fastness Faye Duncan heard the noise of battle, and shuddered. Growling savagely, the dog marched back and forth in the snow. But neither girl nor dog knew what it was all about.
One thought was uppermost in the girl’s mind. She must get off the island and rejoin her companions. But how was this to be done? She had saved her Indian friends from a similar predicament, but now there was no yarn to bring a rawhide rope to her. Besides, the rope was now far back in the camp of women and children.
A little ice was passing. Mere fragments, these would not support her weight. She was interested to note, however, that swinging round a sharp bend, the current brought these fragments very near the bank.
“If only they were large enough to support my weight!” she thought.
But the fire was burning low. The night chill was creeping in. Her clothing was not yet dry.
* * * * * * * *
“More wood,” she thought as she twisted away at a tough willow branch.
In the meantime the battle of bears was slowing down. Seeing an opening, the hunchback sent a second arrow crashing into the ribs of the old grizzly. Was it this arrow that suggested a foe from without? As the bear’s great head turned about, the bristle hair on her neck and shoulders began to rise.