Henri and the horse were directly under the cliff over which it was about to be hurled, the latter close to the wall of rock, the other at some distance away from it.

Joe cried again, “Back, Henri! back vite!” when the mass flowed over and fell with a roar like prolonged thunder.  Henri sprang back in time to save his life, though he was knocked down and almost stunned; but poor Charlie was completely buried under the avalanche, which now presented the appearance of a hill of snow.

The instant Henri recovered sufficiently, Joe and he mounted their horses and galloped back to the camp as fast as possible.

Meanwhile, another spectator stepped forward upon the scene they had left, and surveyed the snow hill with a critical eye.  This was no less than a grizzly bear, which had, unobserved, been a spectator, and which immediately proceeded to dig into the mound, with the purpose, no doubt, of disentombing the carcass of the horse for purposes of his own.

While he was thus actively engaged the two hunters reached the camp, where they found that Pierre and his party had just arrived.  The men sent out in search of them had scarcely advanced a mile when they found them trudging back to the camp in a very disconsolate manner.  But all their sorrows were put to flight on hearing of the curious way in which the horses had been returned to them with interest.

Scarcely had Dick Varley, however, congratulated himself on the recovery of his gallant steed, when he was thrown into despair by the sudden arrival of Joe with the tidings of the catastrophe we have just related.

Of course there was a general rush to the rescue.  Only a few men were ordered to remain to guard the camp, while the remainder mounted their horses and galloped towards the gorge where Charlie had been entombed.  On arriving, they found that Bruin had worked with such laudable zeal that nothing but the tip of his tail was seen sticking out of the hole which he had dug.  The hunters could not refrain from laughing as they sprang to the ground, and standing in a semicircle in front of the hole, prepared to fire.  But Crusoe resolved to have the honour of leading the assault.  He seized fast hold of Bruin’s flank, and caused his teeth to meet therein.  Caleb backed out at once and turned round, but before he could recover from his surprise a dozen bullets pierced his heart and brain.

“Now, lads,” cried Cameron, setting to work with a large wooden shovel, “work like niggers.  If there’s any life left in the horse, it’ll soon be smothered out unless we set him free.”

The men needed no urging, however.  They worked as if their lives depended on their exertions.  Dick Varley, in particular, laboured like a young Hercules, and Henri hurled masses of snow about in a most surprising manner.  Crusoe, too, entered heartily into the spirit of the work, and, scraping with his forepaws, sent such a continuous shower of snow behind him that he was speedily lost to view in a hole of his own excavating.  In the course of half-an-hour a cavern was dug in the mound almost close up to the cliff, and the men were beginning to look about for the crushed body of Dick’s steed, when an exclamation from Henri attracted their attention.