"You was right in your guess, Jimmy," he said. "Our grizzly is a meat-eater. Last night he killed a caribou out there in the meadow. I know it was the grizzly that killed 'im an' not the black, because the tracks along the edge of the timber are grizzly tracks. Come on. I'll show you where 'e jumped the caribou!" He led the way back into the meadow, and pointed out where Thor had dragged down the young bull. There were bits of flesh and a great deal of stain where he and Muskwa had feasted. "He hid the carcass in the balsams after he had filled himself," went on Bruce. "This morning the black came along, smelled the meat, an' robbed the cache. Then back come the grizzly after his morning feed, an' that's what happened! There's yo'r story, Jimmy." "And--he may come back again?" asked Langdon. "Not on your life, he won't!" cried Bruce. "He wouldn't touch that carcass ag'in if he was starving. Just now this place is like poison to him." After that Bruce left Langdon to meditate alone on the field of battle while he began trailing Thor. In the shade of the balsams Langdon wrote for a steady hour, frequently rising to establish new facts or verify others already discovered. Meanwhile the mountaineer made his way foot by foot up the coulee. Thor had left no blood, but where others would have seen nothing Bruce detected the signs of his passing. When he returned to where Langdon was completing his notes, his face wore a look of satisfaction. "He went over the mount'in," he said briefly. It was noon before they climbed over the volcanic quarry of rock and followed the Bighorn Highway to the point where Thor and Muskwa had watched the eagle and the sheep. They ate their lunch here, and scanned the valley through their glasses. Bruce was silent for a long time. Then he lowered his telescope, and turned to Langdon. "I guess I've got his range pretty well figgered out," he said. "He runs these two valleys, an' we've got our camp too far south. See that timber down there? That's where our camp should be. What do you say to goin' back over the divide with our horses an' moving up here?" "And leave our grizzly until to-morrow?" Bruce nodded. "We can't go after 'im and leave our horses tied up in the creek-bottom back there." Langdon boxed his glasses and rose to his feet. Suddenly he grew rigid. "What was that?" "I didn't hear anything," said Bruce. For a moment they stood side by side, listening. A gust of wind whistled about their ears. It died away. "Hear it!" whispered Langdon, and his voice was filled with a sudden excitement. "The dogs!" cried Bruce. "Yes, the dogs!" They leaned forward, their ears turned to the south, and faintly there came to them the distant, thrilling tongue of the Airedales! Metoosin had come, and he was seeking them in the valley! CHAPTER ELEVEN