"Wait a moment, Sile! Never run in on a b'ar till yer sure of him. Reckon he's dead, though. Stand where you are, my boy!"
"Why, father! Yellow Pine! You here? I never expected to see you."
"Well, my son," said the judge, "we thought we'd come over and see what luck you were having. Where's Two Arrows?"
"We watched ye jest a moment," said Pine. "Allers take sight from a rest if you can get one. You did that thing fine. There's the making of a prime good shot in ye."
"I shook all over at first," said Sile, walking a little nearer the bear.
"Buck ager. I've had it. He won't come to. If he does it's no matter, now we've got here. I'll come back after breakfast with a hoss and fetch him in. Where's the redskin?"
Sile rapidly explained the cause of his delay in getting back to camp; but what he did not know or explain was the fact that the Nez Percés had had no idea that their drove of lost ponies had wandered into that valley.
"Glad they've got 'em," said Yellow Pine. "Every hoof of ourn'll be safer from this time on, treaty or no treaty, good Indians or bad."
"Would they really steal from us, after all?" asked Sile, soberly.
"Steal hosses? Well, now, that isn't jest the way it looks to them. They're brought up to it. All hoss-flesh is fair game to a plains redskin. The more they have of their own, the easier it is to get 'em to keep their hands off from them that you have and to make believe good. These 'ere Nez Percés ain't a bad lot. Hope we won't run afoul of any that's worse than they are, and more of 'em."