The Indians and the Frenchman continued to talk, in the meantime moving away from the cedar tree, so that Peaceful Jones made out no more of the conversation. He himself could speak the Indian language and understood every word that had been spoken. The news filled his heart with grief. All his companions were either dead or dying and the enemy were doing their best to find and slay him. He felt that only by the help of Providence would he be enabled to escape. He was not a very religious man, but he breathed a silent prayer to Heaven that he might be spared, if for no other purpose than to carry the sad news back to Fort Pitt. An hour went by, and the Indians and the Frenchman left the vicinity entirely. But then came something else to disturb and alarm him. A small bear stepped into view, sniffing the air suspiciously. His den was among the rocks close to the cedar under which the hunter was resting. He came forward slowly, as if knowing by instinct that all was not right. At first Peaceful Jones was alarmed, then a sudden grim smile came to his bronzed features. He drew his long hunting knife and waited for the bear to come within striking distance. “Your life or mine—an’ it ain’t goin’ to be me ef I kin help it,” he muttered to himself. The bear came to the cedar and pushed a branch aside with his nose. Like lightning, Peaceful Jones leaped forward and made a plunge with his hunting knife. Then the blade was withdrawn and slashed rapidly across the animal’s throat. There was a grunt, a gasp, and the animal fell down in its tracks, gave a convulsive shudder, and lay dead. Weak as he was, the old trapper managed to draw the game under the cedar and kicked some fresh snow over the spot where the blood had flowed. Then he took his hunting knife, cut out a piece of bear meat, and began to suck and gnaw upon it like some wild animal. It was a primitive meal, and might have made another person sick, but it satisfied him and gave him strength,—and strength was what he needed above anything else. The morning brought a light snowstorm, for which he was thankful, since it would cover up his tracks. As soon as he felt able to do so, he cut himself a big chunk of the bear meat, slung it over his shoulder, and set off, in the direction of the Kinotah. He plunged directly into the great forest, afraid to take to any of the trails leading eastward for fear he would run into the enemy once again. CHAPTER XIX THE SHOOTING CONTEST To Dave and Henry, left at Fort Pitt, the days passed slowly. Occasionally they went out hunting, with fair success, but, warned by Captain Ecuyer, did not venture far away. They waited patiently for some word from Rodney, and some word from Dave’s father, but no news came to them. “I hope Rodney got home in safety,” said Henry, one day. “I don’t see why we don’t hear from him.”