Camp was made beside a spring, in a little flat or cup surrounded by timber over which peeked the snow-caps of the main range. For supper Billy had his flapjacks, as Charley had promised; and how he did eat! Nobody's appetite was especially poor, however. "Now you're a Forty-niner, sure," informed Charley, to his fellow partner. "You've got a fresh lining in your stomach. When we get settled I'm going to practice till I can toss a flapjack up the cabin chimney and catch it coming down on the outside. See?" Up hill and down was it the next day, again. Shortly after noon they came to a high ridge, covered with brush in spots, and in spots bare. The three men climbed on, for a view ahead, but Charley and Billy branched off, to a place that looked lower. Then, suddenly, Charley caught sight of it--a great grayish-brown beast, lumbering along a slope just ahead, and making for the top not far before. Sometimes he was in the brush, sometimes in the open; but Charley knew him at once. "Billy!" he cried, excited. "There's a bear! Shoot! Quick!" "Where?" "Right in front of us! See? Hurry, or he'll be over the top." "That's not a bear. That's a cow." "Cow your grandmother! 'Tis, too! A grizzly! They grow as big as cows in this country. Aren't you going to shoot? Give me that gun." The burro and the horse had seen or smelled, for they were pulling back and snorting, ears pricked, eyes Staring. Billy stepped on his lead rope, and leveled his gun like lightning. [Illustration: Billy stepped on his lead rope and leveled his gun like lightning] "Bang!" The big bear gave a jump aside and turning sharp lumbered faster, straight for the top. "Bang!" spoke Billy's patent repeater, again. And just as the bear disappeared over the top, "Bang!" shot Billy, a third time. But the bear was gone. "Did I hit him? Did I hit him?" panted Billy. "Whoa, there, you horse. Did I hit him?" "Don't think so," panted Charley, just as excited. "Maybe you did, though. I heard the bullets sing, anyway. One must have struck rock. Come on; let's go over. Tie your horse. How many shots you got left? "Four." In a jiffy they tied the horse and burro to the brush, and away they pelted, lunging and staggering up the slope, to the place where they had seen the bear. He wasn't there now, and he wasn't anywhere in sight, either; and though they searched closely, they could not find even a drop of blood. "I guess I missed him clean," confessed Billy, ruefully. "I was in too big a hurry." "It's hard shooting up hill; and he was running, too," sympathized Charley, "Let's see where the bullets hit." That would be some satisfaction; so they searched more. Presently Billy yelped: "Here's where one hit. It knocked a big chunk out of the rock. Funny looking rock." And then he exclaimed: "Come over, Charley. Quick! The rock's got a lot of yellow in it!" "What color rock?" demanded Charley. "Whitish." "Let's see."