When certain that the visitor had departed Jack descended into the
corral. He and Piute searched for dead sheep, but, much to their
surprise, found none. If the grizzly had killed one he must have taken
it with him; and estimating his strength from the gap he had broken in
the fence, he could easily have carried off a sheep. They repaired the
break and returned to camp.
"He's gone, Mescal. Come down," called Jack into the cedar. "Let me
help you--there! Wasn't it lucky? He wasn't so brave. Either the
flashes from the guns or the dog scared him. I was amazed to see how
fast he could run."
Piute found woolly brown fur hanging from Wolf's jaws.
"He nipped the brute, that's sure," said Jack. "Good dog! Maybe he kept
the bear from-- Why Mescal! you're white--you're shaking. There's no
danger. Piute and I'll take turns watching with Wolf."
Mescal went silently into her tent.
The sheep quieted down and made no further disturbance that night. The
dawn broke gray, with a cold north wind. Dun-colored clouds rolled up,
hiding the tips of the crags on the upper range, and a flurry of snow
whitened the cedars.
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