"She had found the board not far off, but no pappoose strapped to it, only something that told the story of what had happened.
"There were bear tracks around the spot. One of the prints showed only two claws.
"The Red-Sky-of-the-Morning went back to the camp with the news; the other squaw followed with the jug.
"When the Water-Snake-with-the-Long-Tail heard that his pappoose had been eaten by a bear, he felt, I suppose, very much as any white father would have felt under the circumstances. He vowed vengeance against Old Two Claws, but consoled himself with a drink of the fire-water before starting on the hunt.
"The braves with him followed his example. It wasn't in Indian nature to start until they had emptied the jug, so it happened that Old Two Claws got off again. Tipsy braves can't follow a trail worth a cent.
"Not very long after that a woman in a neighboring settlement heard her children scream one day in the woods near the house. She rushed out, and saw a bear actually lugging off her youngest.
"She was a sickly, feeble sort of woman, but such a sight was enough to give her the strength and courage of a man. She ran and caught up an axe. Luckily she had a big dog. They two went at the bear.
"The old fellow had no notion of losing his dinner just for a woman and a mongrel cur. But she struck him a tremendous blow on the back; at the same time the pup got him by the leg. He dropped the young one to defend himself. She caught it up and ran, leaving the two beasts to have it out together.
"The bear made short work with the cur, but instead of following the woman and child, he skulked off into the woods.
"The settlers got together for a grand hunt; but Old Two Claws–for the tracks showed that he was the scoundrel–escaped into the mountains, and lived to make more trouble another day.