saddle pommel, Tad was hurled sideways to the ground.

"Whoa, Pink-eye!" he commanded sharply as he was falling. But
Pink-eye refused to obey. The pony uttered a loud snort and plunged
into the bushes. There he paused, wheeled, and peered out
suspiciously at the boy and the bear.

Tad's shot had gone home. His aim had been true. Yet the sting of
the bullet served only to anger the bear still further. With an
angry growl, it turned and charged the lad ferociously.

In falling, the plucky boy had struck on his head and shoulders, the
fall partially stunning him. For an instant, he pivoted on his head,
then toppling over on his back, he lay still.

Powerless to move a muscle, the lad was dimly conscious of a hulking
figure standing over him, its hot breath on his face. His right hand
clutched the revolver, but he seemed unable to raise it.

A loud explosion sounded in Tad Butler's ears, then sudden darkness
overwhelmed him.



CHAPTER VI

LOST IN THE ROSEBUD RANGE

"Whoa, Pink-eye!" muttered the lad, stirring restlessly. "I'll get
him next time. Look out, he's charging us. Oh!"