end they were able to push their craft around a high point of rock that jutted out from the shore, and find a haven just behind, in which the boat might weather the storm in safety.

But, from the appearance of the darkened sky across the river, it was evident that they might expect a heavy downpour of rain shortly; and, if they hoped to escape getting soaked, they had better go ashore without delay, and seek some sort of shelter.

“Will our fish be safe here, do you think?” asked Roger, loth to leave their prizes unguarded in the boat.

“Oh! I guess so; but come along, we can’t stay here. Pick up your gun and let’s look for a couple of hollow trees, or a fallen one that will shelter us beneath its roots. Hurry, Roger, it’ll soon be on us!”

They had quickly tied the painter of the dugout canoe and, with one last anxious look at the fish, Roger scrambled up the bank at the heels of his cousin.

The guns the boys carried were, of course, the long-barreled rifles of the times, equipped with a flint lock and powder-pan. Although such weapons may excite more or less amusement in these days of the repeating rifle, and the hammerless shotgun, still those men of the old border, with their steady hands and hawk-like vision, were capable of doing marvelous execution with them. And as boys learned how to shoot before they were as tall as the guns owned by their sires, it can be readily understood that both the Armstrong lads were splendid marksmen.

The woods along the banks of the Missouri in those days were untouched by the axe of the backwoodsman, and must have been a sight, indeed, with many of the trees three or more feet through the butt.

Here and there one of these forest monarchs had been felled by some hurricane that had swept through the region in years that were past; and it was in the direction of these that the boys cast eager glances in the hope of finding a shelter from the downpour that threatened.

Right and left they glanced, missing nothing with those keen eyes, now put to their best efforts, since a necessity for a haven had arisen, if they hoped to avoid being soaked to the skin. And, as they both were dressed in tanned buckskin garments, fashioned after the manner customary with the hunters of that early day, with fringe and colored porcupine quills adorning both trousers and tunic, the task of drying their clothes was one that would take more or less time.

It seemed but a few minutes before a shout from Roger announced a happy discovery.

“Oh! look, there’s the very place for us, if we can climb the tree and crawl in at that opening, Dick! On my word I believe that’s the biggest hollow tree I ever ran across, and I’ve seen a few. Shall we try it?”

Cautious Dick glanced once more around him; but apparently could see no other opportunity to get away from the threatening deluge.

“All right, then, we’ll have to chance it!” he replied, as he started for the big tree.

Roger did not understand what these words meant until they had come to the wide trunk of the oak and he discovered many scratches there, indicating that some wild animal must have its sleeping quarters in the hollow above.

“A bear’s den, Dick!” he ejaculated, looking at his companion doubtfully.

“Yes, I guessed as much,” answered the other, “when I saw tracks over yonder. But let’s hope the old fellow happens to be away just now. I wouldn’t take the risk did not those black clouds look so threatening.”

“Shall we climb up, then?” asked the other, ready to accept any risk, in his headstrong way.

“Yes, come on, Roger; but keep your gun ready for business,” replied Dick.

It was always a matter of some concern to the early pioneers, this keeping their rifles or muskets in condition for immediate use. The powder was apt to be shaken from the pan, or the flint in the hammer dislodged just enough to keep it from striking fairly, and sending out the important spark, which was absolutely necessary in order that the weapon be discharged. And hence, under the most intense excitement, hunters were wont to keep a watchful eye upon their guns in order that they might not fail.

Both boys scrambled up the tree. The limbs were low, and fashioned just right for a quick ascent, and, as the hole which had caught the eye of Roger was not more than twenty feet from the ground, they were beside it in an exceedingly short space of time.

But it might be noticed that neither seemed in any great haste to enter the gaping aperture that frowned so darkly before them. They could easily tell that it was a bear’s den from the odor that greeted them, such as may always be detected where wild animals have their lodging; but even stout-hearted Roger would have braved the wrath of the coming deluge rather than drop down upon a savage bear.

“Do you think he’s in, right now, Dick?” he questioned.

“I don’t know. You see there was no time to examine the tracks below, and see whether the last ones headed in, or out. But we’ll soon learn that. Fire your gun as straight down into the stump as you can, Roger; while I keep mine ready to give him a shot if he comes out.”

“A good idea, Dick; and here goes!”

Roger pushed his long rifle into the hole as well as he could, and, aiming downward, pulled the trigger. The roar that followed was terrific in that confined space, and Roger hastily dragged his gun out, preparing to reload. He had in his early years been taught the first principle among hunters, that an empty gun is worse than none at all.

Dick was waiting, ready to send a bullet into the head of Bruin, did he but make his appearance; but, as nothing followed the report of his cousin’s rifle, he bent forward to look once more into the black aperture.

“Not at home, is he, Dick; or do you think I could have been lucky enough to have killed him by a chance shot?” demanded Roger, hopefully.

“Oh! no danger of that,” replied the other, laughingly. “It’s an empty den that we’ve run across, and the sooner we crawl inside the better.”

“Yes,” said Roger, “I felt a big splash of rain on my face then. But how far down do you think the hole goes, Dick? I hope not all the way to the roots of the old tree. How could we climb up again; and what a tumble it would be if we let go and dropped.”

For answer Dick dropped a piece of heavy bark into the opening, and bent his ear in an endeavor to tell from the sound just about how far it had to fall.

“I think it’s all right, Roger,” he said; “but to make sure I’m going to tie to this branch this piece of rope that I brought with me, and lower it inside. Then we can always have something to pull ourselves up with.”

“It takes you to think up such things,” was the comment of the other boy, who greatly admired his cousin’s thoughtfulness, though seldom able to shine in that same respect himself.

Giving his gun in charge of Roger while he worked, the older lad quickly tied one end of his piece of rope to the limb alongside the opening.

“Now we can climb in, and none too soon, for there comes the rain with a whoop that sounds like an Indian attack!” he remarked.

Dick would have gone first, but it would never do for headstrong Roger to allow any one to precede him, when there was an atom of danger to face. So he swung in, and blocked the passage of the other, though with a good-natured laugh.

He had shifted his rifle to his back by means of the strap that was attached to it for that very purpose. This allowed him to have both hands free. Having dropped down so that he was