That cumbrous body could roll over the ground much faster than I suspected, and I found that, when alarmed, I could also travel rapidly. But in the tangled undergrowth I was no match for him, as he crashed through it without the least inconvenience, and gained rapidly. I saw he would assuredly overtake me before I could go a hundred yards further; so throwing my rifle to the ground, I drew my knife, and waited his attack. As he came rolling forward, the blood from his wound trickled down, and daubed his mouth; while his red tongue lolled out, his mouth was wide open, and his long and white teeth shone with terrible ferocity. He was, indeed, a terrific animal, and I drew a deep breath as I felt that a struggle for life or death was at hand. [Illustration: “I could see his two coal-black eyes glittering plainly.”] Suddenly, when a hundred feet distant, there came the _report of another rifle_, and the brute halted, and gazed about him. I also cast a wondering look around to see who my new friend was. No one was in sight, yet I saw a faint curl of smoke rising from the bushes above me. The bear also discovered it, and with another growl made toward it. He had evidently been struck, and his rage was turned in another direction. Hastily loading my rifle, I ran up the hill, intending to follow and assist my unknown friend, but both he and the brute had disappeared. I stood anxiously listening for some guiding sound, and soon heard the report of a gun in the distance, followed by a faint shout. Tearing through the undergrowth, I dashed hastily forward, calling out in loud tones, so that my friend might guide me to him. There was no response homeward. I feared that he had suffered the fate which had well-nigh been mine. The trail of the bear was now very plain to be seen by the broken twigs, the rising branches, and the blood marks upon the ground. Soon I reached the spot where the last struggle had evidently taken place. The ground was torn up and cast about, and the blood was spattered for many feet around. Following further, I came upon the dead body of the brute. There was another bullet mark in the head, and a ghastly wound in the throat from which an enormous quantity of blood had poured. But where was the author of this deed? Why had he fled? Who was he? I looked about expecting to see him near at hand, but I was disappointed. On the ground were the marks of a moccasin, and it was evident my preserver was an Indian. This fact suggested other questions. Had he been following me? Else how came he to be present just at the instant needed? And what was his object? It could not be that my life was sought, for, if such were the case, it had been really spared, as I had been continually exposed through the day; and in the occurrence just narrated, he had preserved my life at the imminent risk of his own.