clattering of stones displaced by mighty feet, mingled with great, straining grunts and woofs of raging effort.
"Grizzlies, fighting," muttered Merivale with amazement, and stole noiselessly towards the sound, rifle in readiness, eager to catch a glimpse of so titanic a duel. Then the noise was varied by a single harsh and terrible scream, after which the sounds of struggle went on as before. But now Merivale understood. "No, not grizzlies," he said to himself. "A grizzly and a puma." He had heard from the Indians of such tremendous duels, but he had never expected to witness one. His eyes shining with excitement, he hurried forward as quickly as he could without betraying himself. He quite forgot that in such a battle the great antagonists would be much too occupied to give heed to his approach. But it was slow work forcing his way through the rocky tangle, and the scene of the struggle proved to be farther away than he had guessed. Before he could reach the spot, the noise of the battle came abruptly to an end—and there was no sound but a laboured, slobbery panting mixed with a hoarse whining, which gave him an impression of mortal anguish.
The next moment there came into view, lurching and staggering down the slope and blundering into the tree-trunks, a big grizzly, bleeding from head to haunch with ghastly wounds. His
