“See here now, B’ar,” he called aloud, “I ain’t doing nothing to you.  I ain’t got no grudge ag’in’ you, an’ you ain’t got no right to a grudge ag’in’ me.”

“Gro-o-o-h,” said Gringo, deep and low.

“Now, I don’t want no scrap with you, though I have my scrap-iron right handy, an’ what I want you to do is just step aside an’ let me pass that narrer trail an’ go about my business.”

“Grow—­woo-oo-wow,” grumbled Gringo.

“I’m honest about it, pard.  You let me alone, and I’ll let you alone; all I want is right of way for five minutes.”

“Grow-grow-wow-oo-umph,” was the answer.

“Ye see, thar’s no way round an’ on’y one way through, an’ you happen to be settin’ in it.  I got to take it, for I can’t turn back.  Come, now, is it a bargain—­hands off and no scrap?”

It is very sure that Gringo could see in this nothing but a human making queer, unmenacing, monotonous sounds, so giving a final “Gr-u-ph,” the Bear blinked his eyes, rose to his feet and strode down the bank, and the cowboy forced his unwilling horse to and past the place.

“Wall, wall,” he chuckled, “I never knowed it to fail.  Thar’s whar most B’ars is alike.”

If Gringo had been able to think clearly, he might have said:  “This surely is a new kind of man.”

[Illustration:  “Now, B’ar, I don’t want no scrap with you”]

XII.  SWIRL AND POOL AND GROWING FLOOD

Gringo wandered on with nose alert, passing countless odors of berries, roots, grouse, deer, till a new and pleasing smell came with especial force.  It was not sheep, or game, or a dead thing.  It was a smell of living meat.  He followed the guide to a little meadow, and there he found it.  There were five of them, red, or red and white—­great things as big as himself; but he had no fear of them.  The hunter instinct came on him, and the hunter’s audacity and love of achievement.  He sneaked toward them upwind in order that he might still smell them, and it also kept them from smelling him.  He reached the edge of the wood.  Here he must stop or be seen.  There was a watering-place close by.  He silently drank, then lay down in a thicket where he could watch.  An hour passed thus.  The sun went down and the cattle arose to graze.  One of them, a small one, wandered nearer, then, acting suddenly with purpose, walked to the water-hole.  Gringo watched his chance, and as she floundered in the mud and stooped he reared and struck with all his force.  Square at her skull he aimed, and the blow went straight.  But Gringo knew nothing of horns.  The young, sharp horn, upcurling, hit his foot and was broken off; the blow lost half its power.  The beef went down, but Gringo had to follow up the blow, then raged and tore in anger for his wounded paw.  The other cattle fled from the scene.  The Grizzly took the heifer in his jaws, then climbed