and turn back in the direction of the bear. Firing as he ran,

Tippet raced after the great cave bear--the monstrous thing that

should have been extinct ages before--ran for it and fired even

as the beast was almost upon Bradley. The men in the trees

scarcely breathed. It seemed to them such a futile thing for

Tippet to do, and Tippet of all men! They had never looked upon

Tippet as a coward--there seemed to be no cowards among that

strangely assorted company that Fate had gathered together from

the four corners of the earth--but Tippet was considered a

cautious man. Overcautious, some thought him. How futile he and

his little pop-gun appeared as he dashed after that living engine

of destruction! But, oh, how glorious! It was some such thought

as this that ran through Brady's mind, though articulated it

might have been expressed otherwise, albeit more forcefully.

Just then it occurred to Brady to fire and he, too, opened upon

the bear, but at the same instant the animal stumbled and fell

forward, though still growling most fearsomely. Tippet never

stopped running or firing until he stood within a foot of the

brute, which lay almost touching Bradley and was already

struggling to regain its feet. Placing the muzzle of his gun

against the bear's ear, Tippet pulled the trigger. The creature

sank limply to the ground and Bradley scrambled to his feet.

"Good work, Tippet," he said. "Mightily obliged to you--awful

waste of ammunition, really."

And then they resumed the march and in fifteen minutes the

encounter had ceased even to be a topic of conversation.

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