“Anybody think of having some more of that india-rubber steak for supper?” sang out Giraffe, still working with the fire, which seemed to be behaving a little better already, and gave promise of being all right presently.
“Say, don’t everybody shout out at once. Put me down for baked beans first, last and all the time,” declared Bumpus, seeking the vicinity of the door in order to cool his heated eyes, smarting from the pungent smoke.
“Hello! who’s rocking the old cabin like that? Let up, can’t you before it goes over?” shouted Step Hen, standing in the doorway for air.
Possibly he may have thought it did go over, for just then some great hairy object came tumbling down from the loft, making some use of the ladder, but at the same time landing with a crash on the floor. Then, before any one could so much as make the first move toward one of the guns, standing in a corner of the cabin, this lumbering object hustled over to the half-open door, and bowled through, upsetting both Step Hen and Bumpus in its passage.
For a second or two silence followed, and then a tremendous shout broke out:
“Great smoke! did you see it?” whooped Giraffe, jumping to his feet.
“Who hit me?” gurgled Bumpus, who had crashed into the wall of the cabin, and was sitting there on the floor, looking dazed.
A head was thrust in through the half-open door, and Step Hen shouted:
“It was a great big black bear, and he just went and kicked me out of the place, fellers!”