He could see nothing. Hauck's hands were at his
throat.
But the screams continued, and above them came now the cries of
men--cries of horror, of agony, of death; and as Hauck's fingers
loosened at his neck he heard with the snarling and roaring and
tumult the crushing of great jaws and the thud of bodies. Hauck
was rising, his face blanched with a strange terror. He was half
up when a gaunt, lithe body shot at him like a stone flung from a
catapult and Baree's inch-long fangs sank into his thick throat
and tore his head half from his body in one savage, snarling snap
of the jaws. David raised himself and through the horror of what he
saw the Girl ran to him--unharmed--and clasped her arms about him,
her lips sobbing all the time--"_Tara--Tara--Tara_...." He turned
her face to his breast, and held it there. It was ghastly. Henry was
dead. Hauck was dead. And Brokaw was dead--a thousand times dead--with
the grizzly tearing his huge body into pieces.
Through that pit of death David stumbled with the Girl. The fresh air
struck their faces. The sun of day fell upon them. The green grass and
the flowers of the mountain were under their feet. They looked down the
slope, and saw, disappearing over the crest of the _coulee_, two men who
were running for their lives.
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