“Hy, thar! Skibo; how ’bout them Virginy possums now? Ef yer likes possum meat he’p yerself. Et’s free, Skibo; don’t be bashful. Git yer tarnation jawers onter et an’ chaw ter yer heart’s content. Cyan’t yer ketch ’im, Skibo? Never mind; yer doin’ well, an’ I opines ye’ll git ’im by an’ by, ef yer hoss hol’s out. Git er goin’, Skibo, an’ don’t let thet thar possum git erway f’m ye!” Turning to Cayuse, the trapper continued: “Why don’t yer git out thar an’ he’p yer brother? Mebbe ’tain’t possum, arter all; mebbe et’s coon, er a hedgehog. Git yer pied pony er-goin’ an’ ketch ther varmint.” Skibo heard the shouts and laughter behind him and looked about. He saw that his horse could now outfoot the bear, so he began a large circle back toward the point where he had made a somewhat hurried dash upon the plain. “Hyar, Skibo, doan’t bring ther varmint back this way till yer tie ’is feet. Quit it, yer dar-devil!” called Nomad. “Yah, yah! Nick; take yo’ ole beah; Ah ain’ done los’ no beahs.” In the laugh that followed Tootsie’s exuberance of spirits got the best of him, and he suddenly blew a loud and long series of toots on his bugle. The bear stopped, looked up at the group, sniffed the air suspiciously, and started to investigate. “Hyar comes yer coon, Cayuse! Now’s yer time ter ketch ’im. Recomember, papoose, no foul holts now, but fair ketch-es-ketch-ken, an’ ef yer gits ’im yer welcome.” Nomad gave Hide-rack a slap and dashed out on the plain. Buffalo Bill and Hickok sat on their horses a little apart from the others, enjoying the chase. They were ready to take a hand at any time their services might be needed, but were inclined to wait and see what the others would do. Nomad, too, was inclined to take revenge by not raising a rifle against the enraged grizzly. Little Cayuse’s pinto would not face the bear for a moment, but dashed madly away. Tootsie was the only one left, and the bear made straight for him and his trembling horse. The boy blew a stiff blast at the advancing beast and then dashed away, with the bear in pursuit. As he galloped Tootsie turned in the saddle and blew the “advance” at the bear, and a moment later the “charge.” The bear was doing his best at both orders, but the fleet bay mare was too swift for him, and at last he gave it up and turned to sniff toward some of the others. Tootsie was on the alert, and rode back, stopping a few rods from the bear to serenade him. The bear looked at the bugler in disgust for a moment, and then started slowly back toward the mountain. Tootsie galloped alongside, far enough away for safety, and continued to serenade the monster. The animal stopped several times, and, sitting on its haunches, looked quizzically at the boy with the bugle; then he would move on slowly. At last he sat up and, sticking his nose in air, emitted a mournful howl that made the pards shout with laughter. “Why don’t yer shoot ’im, Tootsie?” asked Nomad.