He still retained his heavy hunting knife, but though the blade was broad and keen he knew that it would be but poor weapon with which to meet the attack of such brutes as the two growling and staring up at him from below. But still, the knife would be useful, for all. He drew it from its sheath, and began cutting furiously at a thick, short branch which grew at his hand; this was soon trimmed, and as he balanced the heavy club which it made, he said with satisfaction: “Here’s something, anyhow! I’ll not have to meet them empty handed. So, come on, my lads, I’m ready for you.” The bears needed no invitation, however; they had been measuring the situation from their places beneath the tree; and one of them had risen upon his hind legs, dug his great claws into the trunk and begun to climb upward. The foremost part of a bear, in climbing a tree, is his nose; and the noses of most animals are very tender and easily hurt. The grizzly bear’s is no exception. So as the climber came within reach, Kit swung his club; the blow landed fair and true, the bear yelled with pain, and slipped back to the ground. But the other stood ready to take his place; Kit cleared away the small boughs which might entangle his weapon and so interfere with his stroke. Once more the heavy club swished downward, and again it landed upon an eager, uplifted snout. There was another roar, and the second bear slid to the ground. They stood together, and glared at the trapper, their roars and shrieks making the lonely mountains ring. Then, their pain easing somewhat, they attacked once more. Again and again the club struck the tender, bleeding snouts, again and again the bears roared in agony and fell back. At length they lost heart in the matter and sat watching him sullenly and pawing their noses; but as he made no move to come down, they finally gave up the vigil just as the long shadow of night began to fall; and with many looks over their shoulders they lumbered away into the woods. Kit waited for a space; then he slid down the trunk of the tree and ran softly and swiftly toward the spot where he had dropped his rifle. The piece was still unharmed; and the trapper reloaded it and stood listening. From the depths of the forest came the sound of the bears crushing through the underbrush; then this died away in the distance and all was still. CHAPTER XI THE BULLY OF THE TRADING CAMP After making sure that the bears were not returning, Kit Carson shouldered his rifle and made his way back to camp through the gathering dusk. It was dark when he reached there, and this made it unadvisable to take a packhorse after the carcass of the elk; so the trappers had to be content with rather short commons until the next day, when their rifles came into play and meat was had for the larder.