On the ground near by lay the body of another bear, telling how accurate had been the guide's first shot. The guide was using his bowie knife, which was already stained with blood to the hilt. Frank did not hesitate about rushing straight toward the battling man and beast, and Old Rocks saw him coming. "Keerful, boy!" panted the man; "keerful with thet thar rifle! Don't shoot yere, fer yer might bore me." "I won't hit you," promised Frank. "I will shoot the bear." "You don't know whar ter put yer lead, an' yer might fire a dozen bullets inter this varmint 'thout finishin' him." It was evident that the old man was badly winded. Thus far he had avoided the bear's hug, but he could not hold out long. Barely had he uttered the last words when, with a sudden blow of one paw, the grizzly struck him to the ground. Frank rushed in, seeing the monster settle on all fours over Old Rocks. "I'll fix him!" grated the boy, as he thrust the muzzle of his rifle almost against bruin's head and pulled the trigger. For the first time on record the weapon missed fire. With a fierce growl, the bear whirled and knocked the rifle out of Frank's grasp. In a dazed manner, Old Rocks saw everything. "Ther kid's a goner!" thought the guide. "We're both done fer!" Out Frank snapped a revolver, and then, taking a step toward the bear, he fired five bullets into the creature in marvelously rapid succession. A roar came from the bear's throat, and the beast reared on its hind feet, its jaws dripping blood and foam, and rushed upon the dauntless boy. Frank flung aside the revolver, just as Rocks struggled to a sitting posture, thickly crying: "Run, kid! run fer yer life!" "Not much!" came through Frank's set teeth. "Think I'd run and leave you to the bear! I guess not!" "Dog my cats!" murmured the guide, weakly. The bear, dripping blood from its many wounds, still fierce as a raging tiger, came at Frank. The boy dodged, managed to avoid the rush, and gave the beast a wicked stab with the knife. "Dog my cats!" murmured the dazed guide once more. Frank Merriwell's face bore a look of fearless determination, and he was ready for the bear to charge again. It came. Frank tried to repeat the trick, slipped a bit, saw he could not escape, and then met the formidable beast. "Now he is a goner!" gurgled Old Rocks, faintly. With outstretched paws the bear closed in. Frank saw he was not going to be able to escape the hug, and he placed the haft of the knife against his own breast, with the point directed toward the bear. The grizzly folded Frank in his embrace, crushing the lad against his shaggy breast, and, in this way, the creature drove the knife home to its own heart. Uttering a great groan, it relaxed its hold, dropped on all fours, hung its head, and then sunk in a heap upon the ground, dying. Frank felt as if his ribs had been crushed, and he was covered with blood, but he had conquered.