He wondered if this sort of thing was of daily occurrence on the big ranch, which took in the whole valley for miles, and extended even up along the sides of the mountains on either hand.

“What ails the fellow, I wonder?” observed Jerry, who, it seems, had also noticed the rush of the newcomer.

“From the way he bolted into the office where Mr. Mabie went, I imagine he must have brought important news of some sort,” remarked Frank.

“Perhaps our very introduction to the Big M Ranch is going to be in a whirl of excitement, fellows.  I’ve noticed that somehow we seem to stir up things wherever we go; not that we mean to have things happen, but they just pick out such a time to play hob,” said Jerry, shaking his head as if thoroughly convinced.

“Here comes Mr. Mabie, hurrying this way!” declared Bluff, beginning to forget his other anxiety for the time being in this new mystery.

“And there goes the cowboy back to the horse corral.  He’s shouting something, too, and as sure as you live every man is jumping to get a horse handy between his legs.  Look at them slapping saddles on!  Why, they’ll be off like the wind!  Boys, something is up!  I know it!”

Frank and his chums saw several cowboys dash away as though possessed, shouting, and waving their hats in a reckless manner, as if about to charge an enemy who had designs on the cattle of the ranch.

“Whatever can it mean?” said Will again.

“For the life of me I can’t imagine,” returned Frank, sorely puzzled.

“But we’ll soon know, fellows, for here comes Mr. Mabie, and he’s swinging his hat as though just as excited as the balance of the crowd.  Whatever it is, he means to tell us!” cried Jerry, his eyes glowing with the nerve-racking anxiety.

CHAPTER VII

THE GRIZZLY AT BAY

“Boys, do you want to see some fun?” called the ranchman as he came up.

“Always ready for that sort of thing, sir.  What’s going on?” asked Frank.

“An old friend of ours, whom we call ‘Mountain Charlie,’ has broken bounds at last, and is even now trying to drag one of my best yearlings off to the mountain canyon where he has his den,” replied the other.

“Mountain Charlie?” repeated Frank, mystified.

“And has a den in the mountains, too!  What sort of a beast is that?  Or can it be a wild man?” asked Bluff.

The ranchman laughed heartily.

“I forgot you were tenderfeet, boys.  We call a grizzly by that name out here.  This fellow we have known for some time.  Hunting him has never proven a profitable business, and, as a rule, he has never before come so far out in the open; but hunger tempted the old chap, and the man who galloped in told me he was even then dragging the yearling he had killed in the direction of the hills.”

“Oh! if we could only get there in time to see them shoot him!” exclaimed Will, hitching his camera a little closer to his body.