Two vaqueros were left to skin him, and the
party rode on. In a very few moments they saw a moving group some
distance ahead. Spurring their mustangs they dashed forward, letting the
lassos fly. Now the sport became truly exciting and dangerous. Some six
or eight brown bears, of varying sizes, growled furiously and bounded
toward the intruders. Three were caught in the meshes of the rope, the
others were making straight for the horses. There was only one thing to
do. The men put spurs and galloped rapidly away, the bears plunging
heavily in pursuit. When the men had outdistanced the bears by a hundred
yards or more, they wheeled suddenly and trotted back, once more letting
fly the lasso. This time all but one were roped; as they kicked in fury,
their hind legs were caught by the lariats held in reserve; and there
followed a scene of plunging and springing, galloping, shouting,
growling; and neighing, for the mustangs were fully alive to their part.
The one bear at liberty rode straight for Roldan.
He had hurled his lasso with the rest, and it was trailing. He jerked
about and fled for a mile or more, holding on with his legs while both
hands were occupied gathering in the rope and coiling it about the high
pommel of his saddle.
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