open and his blood-red tongue hanging out as though ready to lick him in.
"I—I—can't run any more," gasped Nellie. Her heart was beating as though ready to break. "Oh, Dick, what shall we do?"
"Here is a tree with low branches—jump for that—I will help you up!" returned the youth, and in a few seconds they were in the tree, a scrub oak, with the big bear underneath, eyeing them angrily, and speculating upon how he could bring them down within reach of his powerful embrace and his hungry maw.
"He is going to climb up," came from Nellie's lips a few seconds later. She was right. Bruin had attacked the tree trunk and now he was coming up slowly, as though afraid of moving into some trap.
Dick did not answer, for talking would have done no good. He was re-loading the pistol with all possible speed.
Crack! Dick had leaned down through the branches of the oak and taken aim at one of those bloodshot eyes. There was a howl and a roar, and the bear fell down with a crash that shook the forest. As to whether the bullet had found that eye or not Dick could not tell, but certain it was that once on the ground the bear picked himself up in short order and started to run away.
