CHAPTER XX

NOT ACTING

The next moment Tom felt an uncomfortable chill creep along his spine. His jumping nerves commanded action, but his common sense said, “Don’t move!”

Breaking through the underbrush not six feet from where he sat rigid upon the rock, blundered the largest, brownest and most dangerous looking bear Tom Cameron had ever seen!

Lightning thoughts raced through Tom’s head. This was not his first experience with bears, and he felt that this one might not attack him unless he himself showed fight. Even in that case, the bear would probably rather retreat than advance. Almost instantly Tom made his decision. He would stay where he was, as motionless as possible, and trust to the chance that the bear would not observe him.

It took bravery, not so much to make the decision, as to act upon it. Tom’s instinct was to jump to his feet, seize his rifle and give battle, counting on the element of surprise to vanquish his enemy. It required every ounce of self-control he possessed to force himself to sit still and watch that bear.

Evidently the animal had not yet discovered the presence of his enemy. The wind, luckily, was blowing away from Tom. Then, too, it soon became apparent that the bear was in playful mood. Startled as he was, Tom had an impulse to laugh at the absurd antics of the huge creature.

It waddled off first to the borders of the pool where it studied its reflection as intently as any pretty girl might have done.

Afterward it posed, cocking its head to one side and raising a clumsy, vicious-nailed paw.

“One blow from that--” thought Tom and cut the thought off short. He watched the movements of the beast with fascinated attention.

But the bear still took no notice of him. Slipping off the bank into the shallow water, it bathed and wallowed luxuriously, ducking its head under water and puffing for all the world like some fat man short of breath.

His toilette completed, he lumbered up upon the bank again and rolled over on the soft moss.

“That’s his bath towel,” thought Tom, still in a detached way as though he were a spectator at a play, safely established in an orchestra seat. “Whew, he’s bound to see me now!”

However, bruin either did not see the man sitting so motionless on the rock or he chose to ignore him. But after rolling about on the ground for some time, he got up and started directly toward Tom!

Again the young fellow felt the tingling along his spine, again his fingers closed about the barrel of his gun.

But the bear wore an amiable, benignant expression. He waddled clumsily forward and lay down on the farther end of Tom’s rock!

It was a huge rock, to be sure, and several feet still separated the young man from the bear, but to Tom’s excited fancy that rock was becoming altogether too crowded for comfort!

Gently his fingers lifted the gun, stealthily and slowly he started to slip off his end of the rock. Suddenly every nerve cried out and he sprang to his feet with a jerk.

A voice had reached him, a familiar voice.

“Tom! Oh, Tom! where are you?”

At the same time bruin sat up, blinking sleepily. Tom saw Ruth coming toward him through the trees, but was too late to signal her to retreat.

“I’ve had a fine time finding you!” she cried, reaching his side. Then, turning slowly to follow the direction of his rigid glance, “Tom! what _have_ you got here----”

The words died in her throat as the bear, disturbed at this intrusion, muttered fretfully and took a step toward them.

“Stand still,” Tom commanded in a whisper. “He doesn’t want to fight.”

If Tom had raised his gun then the temper of the animal would have changed. As it was, the steady stare of two pairs of human eyes bewildered him. He muttered fretfully deep down in his throat and, turning, ambled sullenly off into the woods.

“Since when,” demanded Ruth unsteadily, as the crashing noise of the bear’s retreat died off in the distance, “did you turn bear-trainer, Tom?”

But Tom was not inclined to laugh just then. With Ruth sharing his danger, the woods all at once seemed dark and sinister.

“Let’s get out of this,” he muttered. When they reached the sunlit trail again, they laughed together, however, as Tom recounted his queer experience and imitated the antics of the coquettish bear.

“Poor old thing,” she said drolly. “He was just out for a nice bath and a nap and you spoiled it all. Wish we could have taken a picture of it,” she said, with professional regret.

“Which reminds me,” said Tom, “to ask how you happened to find your way into that deep, dark heart of the woods.”

“I was looking for you,” the girl admitted. “I wanted to consult you about some details for the avalanche. Some one said you had come up this way, so I followed you.”

“That’s a dangerous thing to do, Ruth,” said Tom anxiously. “This isn’t a zoölogical park, you know, with the wild animals caged up.”

“I’m perfectly safe,” said Ruth, patting the neat little revolver that hung at her belt. “You forget that, for the present at least, I am a cowgirl, Tom!”