The fat boy heard all the clamor. He also sighted the lumbering bear, which, after taking one good look at the approaching canoes, turned to shuffle back again into the shelter of the protecting brush, as though he did not much fancy any closer acquaintance with the two-legged occupants.
Bumpus scrambled to his knees. He was trembling like a leaf shaken in the gale; but nevertheless managed to clumsily throw the double-barrel to his shoulder, after pulling back both hammers.
They saw him bend his chubby neck, as though to sight along the barrels. Then a tremendous explosion occurred, as though a young cannon had been fired; and the next instant Bumpus went over flat on his back, among the duffle with which the canoe was loaded, his feet coming into view as he landed among the blankets, and the packages of food, secured in the rubber ponchos to keep them from getting wet.
CHAPTER II.
A WARNING FROM A GAME POACHER.
“Did I g-g-get him?”
Bumpus, as he spoke these eager words, managed to gain a sitting position, though his first act was to rub his shoulder as though it pained him.
There was a roar from all the boys at this remark, and indeed, even the two Maine guides grinned more or less.
“Listen to the innocent, would you?” shouted Giraffe; “when his buckshot tore up the water half way between the boat and the shore, till it looked just like one of those spouting geysers we read about, out in Yellowstone Park. Did he get him, boys?”
Step Hen put his hands to his mouth, megaphone fashion, and bawled out: