Johnny's eyes were candid and compassionate. "Anybody would have done just the same, Bobby. Don't you feel too bad about it. Rotten durned shame, though. Them bears was a bushel o' fun. Jack and Jill, the two biggest ones, they was a leetle mite standoffish and inclined to play it safe. But the Prodigal Son, that's the least one--growed a heap since last spring with plenty to eat that way--why, the Prodigal he'd never met up with any man but Foamy and Hi, so he wasn't a mite leery. Regular clown, that bear. Stand up right in front of the door, and catch biscuit and truck the boys threw to him--loll out his little red tongue and grin like a house afire. He was right comical. How he did love molasses!" "How come them fools didn't tell me?" demanded the crestfallen hunter, almost in tears. "Pretty tough luck," said Hales commiseratingly. "I killed a pet deer once. I know just how you feel." "I don't know who's to break it to Hiram and Foamy," said Johnny, grieving. "It's goin' to hurt 'em, bad! They set a heap of store by them bears--'special the Prodigal--poor little fellow! I feel right bad myself, and I was only here two nights. Make it all the worse for them, being all on account of their cussed carelessness. I can't see how you're a bit to blame. Only I do think you might have noticed your night horse didn't make any fuss. Usual, horses are scared stiff of bears. But they'd got plumb used to these." "Didn't keep up no horse that night," said Bob miserably. "Look here!" said Hales. "What's the use of letting them other fellows know anything about it? Mr. Dines and me, we won't tell. This young man can send his bearskins over east, Tularosa or somewhere, and keep his lip buttoned up. No one need be ever the wiser. Bears change their range whenever they get good and ready. Nobody need know but what they just took a notion to light out." "Say, that's the right idea!" said Johnny, brightening. "That'll save a heap of trouble. Boys are liable to think the round-up scared 'em out--as might happen, easy. That ain't all either. That plan will not only save Hi and Foamy a heap o' grief, but it won't be no bad thing for Bob Gifford. I'll tell you honest, Bob--the Bar Cross will near devil the life out of you if this thing ever gets out." "That's good dope, kid," said Hales kindly. "No use cryin' over spilt milk." "Let's drop it then. I'll get rid of the bear hides." "That's right. Talkin' about it only makes you feel bad. Forget it. Here, I'll give you something else to think about. You two seem to be all right." Hales drew rein, with a long appraising look at the younger man. It seemed to satisfy him; he rode a little to one side, facing a wooded sugar-loaf hill in the middle of the rough gap leading east to Rosebud. He waved his hand. A crackling of brush made instant answer; high above them a horseman came from cover and picked his way down the steep hill.