“Give Bumpus a hand, Step Hen!” shouted the scoutmaster, already settled in a nest of his choosing.
As one scout is expected to help another whenever the chance arises, doubtless Step Hen would have rendered this “first aid to the clumsy” even though Thad had not seen fit to call out.
There was really need of haste. The wounded bear was perilously near, and seemed to be heading straight for the tree where Bumpus was, unable, in his excitement and fright to draw his body up on the limb to which he clung.
His fat face was white, and his eyes seemed almost ready to pop out of his head, as Step Hen, bending down, caught hold of his coat collar. It looked as though the angry bear just knew which of these campers had inflicted this pain upon him, and was bent upon revenge.
But Step Hen was strong, moreover, the necessity of moving the unwieldy body of Bumpus was great. Exerting himself as the fat scout commenced to strain again, Step Hen managed to get Bumpus up alongside him.
Even then there was more or less danger that the grizzly might stand erect on his hind legs, and be able to claw them, so the boys hastened to put more distance between their precious bodies and the furious beast.
When the bear found that he could not reach any of the scouts, he spent some little time rolling from one tree to another, and looking up at the boys in the branches and sending forth loud growls.
“Scat! get out!” shouted Giraffe. “Say, he’s a goin’ to try and climb up my thin tree. Here, quit that, you old scamp! Look what he’s doin’, Thad! Wow! he wants to shake me down like a big persimmon.”
The bear did actually shake the slender tree to and fro, by exerting his tremendous strength. Giraffe had a few anxious minutes. He had to hold on with all his might to keep from being dislodged. And then again, there was always a chance that the furious grizzly might actually snap the tree off.
After a short time the animal seemed to tire of this sport. Greatly to the relief of Giraffe he ambled away.