The old bear ran like a horse with Skookum yapping bravely in her rear.

The young ones, left behind, lost sight of her, and, utterly bewildered by the noise, made for a tree conveniently near and scrambled up into the branches.

"Now," Rolf thought, judging by certain tales he had heard, "that old bear will come back and there will be a fight." "Is she coming back ?" he asked nervously.
The Indian laughed.

"No, she is running yet.

Black bear always a coward; they never fight when they can run away." The little ones up the tree were, of course, at the mercy of the hunters, and in this case it was not a broken straw they depended on, but an ample salvation.