Part 21 (1/2)

At her scream, two other dark forms close to the road moved, and in the dim light the party could see one of these forms go ten feet up the trunk of a half fallen tree. Peering into the dark of the woods, Joe could at last count, as the Ranger said, five bears, two of them huge ones, three smaller (including the one up the tree), and not one of them more than fifty feet away.

”The two big ones are silver tips?” he asked.

”Sure,” said Mills. ”Want to pat one?”

”No, thanks.”

”I must say, bears are dirty animals, if this is what they eat,” Mrs.

Jones put in, sniffing. ”I don't think I like them so near me.”

”I'm sure _I_ don't,” Mr. Elkins laughed. ”Of course, I know these are tame, and all that, but--well, it's like the dog the man said wouldn't bite. 'I know it, and you know it,' said the other fellow, 'but does the dog know it?'”

Just then the big grizzly nearest them, which was standing on his hind legs, gave a low, snarling growl, as if he was mad at being disturbed at supper, and Mrs. Jones announced determinedly that she was going back.

And she went. Joe, Bob, and the girls wanted to linger, but the older people called them, and they had to go.

”Well, _that_ wasn't very exciting!” Bob complained. ”Gee, you could have patted 'em, 'most. I wanted to see you shoot one, Mr. Mills.”

”I'd as soon shoot a cow as a tame bear,” the Ranger told him. ”You can't shoot anything but lions and coyotes in the Park, and only Rangers can shoot them. We're protecting game here, not killing it.”

”Wouldn't you kill a bear if it came for you?”

Mills laughed. ”I'd try a tree first,” he said.

But Joe had noted that all the time he stood near the bears, he had his hand on his hip, where his big automatic rested in its holster; and the scout suspected that he wasn't quite so sure about the bears being entirely tame as he pretended.

Back at the hotel, the first thing they saw was Val, in the lobby, with a clean shave, his hair cut and plastered down in a smooth part, a clean s.h.i.+rt and a bright red necktie on, and his best white fur chaps, with silver buckles, on his legs.

”Oh, look at Val, all dressed up like Astor's horse!” Bob shouted.

”Where are you going, Val?” the girls demanded.

”Oh, down to the big struggle,” said the young cowboy.

”The _what_?” they asked.

”The big struggle--the dance,” said he.

”A dance? A dance? Where?”

”Down to the hall. Better come.”

”Sure--come, Joe, come, Bob,” Lucy cried, and grabbing poor Joe by the hand--for Joe was scared stiff at a dance, being a poor performer, and besides, he had on his worn scout suit and heavy boots--she led him off, while Alice grabbed her equally reluctant brother.

The hall was a little annex to the hotel, and when they got there the piano was going, and a lot of people, cowboy guides, waitresses, guests, everybody, was dancing. Almost n.o.body was dressed up for a party as we dress in the East--any kind of rough clothes and stout boots went here, alongside of silk dresses and satin slippers, worn by some of the hotel guests.

”Gee, I can't dance any more 'n a cow,” Joe stammered to Lucy.

”Nonsense,” she said, ”I'll bet you can dance very nicely. Anyhow, you've got to try just one with me.”