"I should say he would," answered Archie, who was somewhat surprised at these questions. "Have you forgotten the one you killed with your knife? He will be certain to follow you, if you don't disable him at the first shot, but he can't catch your horse. Besides, as soon as he comes in sight, Frank and I will give him a volley from our revolvers. You are not afraid?" "Afraid!" repeated Arthur, compressing his lips, and scowling fiercely. "O, no." "Well, then, make haste," said Frank, who was beginning to get impatient. "Ride up within ten paces of him, and let him have it. That's the way you used to serve the lions in Europe." "Yes, go on," urged Archie; and he gave Arthur's horse a cut with his whip, to hurry him up. "O, stop that!" whined Arthur, as the horse sprang forward so suddenly that his rider was nearly unseated. "I am going home." What might have happened next, it is impossible to tell, had not the boys' attention been turned from Arthur by the yelping of a dog in the bushes a short distance up the mountain. "That's Carlo," exclaimed Archie. "Now we will soon know what sort of an enemy we have to deal with." The dog was evidently following the trail of the bear, for he broke out into a continuous baying, which grew louder and fiercer as he approached. The bear heard it, and was either making efforts to escape, or preparing to defend himself; for he thrashed about among the bushes in a way that quite bewildered Frank and Archie, who drew their revolvers, and turned their horses' heads down the path, ready to fight or run, as they might find it necessary. An instant afterward, a large, tan-colored hound bounded across the path, and dashed into the bushes where the game was concealed. It was not one of those which had so disgracefully left the field a few moments before--it was Carlo, Johnny's favorite hound--an animal whose strength had been tested in many a desperate encounter, and which had never been found wanting in courage. Scarcely had he disappeared when Marmion came in sight, also following the trail. He ran with his nose close to the ground, the hair on his back standing straight up like the quills on a porcupine, and his whole appearance indicating great rage and excitement. "Hi! hi!" yelled Frank. "Take hold of him, you rascal! Now's your time, Arthur. Ride up and give him the contents of your double-barrel; only, be careful, and don't shoot the dogs."