"Well," remarked Smithy, who was bearing up under the strain in a manner that would have pleased the scoutmaster, could he have been along to notice it; "you want to be exceedingly careful how you say that before our hot-blooded Southern chum, Bob White, unless you're ready to get into a war of words." "Oh! excuse me," chuckled Step Hen, "I wouldn't be guilty of hurting Bob's pride even a little bit. I know he thinks that Land of the Sky country better than most other places. Well, it takes a lot of different people to make a world, don't it, fellers?" "That's right, it does," remarked Davy Jones, who had managed to snap off several pictures as they came along; but was trying to save most of his exposures for things that would count, live subjects, in fact. "How much further do we have to climb, Toby?" asked Smithy, trying to appear rather indifferent about it, though the others just knew he must feel the strain more than any of them; because Smithy had never been much of an athlete, and up to date had yet to play in his first baseball game, strange to say. "Wall, that depends on a good many things," the guide responded. "Fust place, we don't know as yet jest whar the sheep might be feedin'. I'm headin' for a place whar I seen 'em more'n a few times, when I was prospectin' through this kentry." "Oh! so _you_ had a touch of the lost mine fever, too, did you?" quickly remarked Smithy; for up to the present time Toby had never so much as admitted this fact; but now he grinned and went on: "Why, yes, I've taken my look, and had jest the same luck as all the rest what thought they could pick it up. But about them big horns, boys; if they don't happen to be whar I'm headin' fust, then we got to go another two hours. But chances are, we'll find a flock in one of them places, an' git a shot afore nightfall sets in." With this comforting thought, then, the little party once more started out, after an hour's rest and refreshment. Smithy was doubtless feeling considerably better. He never complained, even while he limped sadly at times; and once came near losing his grip, when swinging across a bad place in the trail; so that he might even have fallen, only that the ready guide threw an arm around him, having been keeping conveniently near. Smithy was proving one thing, at least; he might never turn out to be much of a hunter; but he surely possessed his father's spirit, when it came to game qualities. And when he went back home, all the maiden aunts in creation would never be able to bring that boy back again to the docile habits that had marked him heretofore, thanks to woman training. Smithy had had a taste of real outdoors, and would never be satisfied again to live in that old "sissy" rut. It was about an hour after the stop that, without warning, the little party suddenly came upon a monstrous grizzly bear, slowly making his way diagonally across the track they were following.