On this account, therefore, Thad wished to make all the capital possible out of the six bullets that were contained in Step Hen’s gun.
Waiting until a good opportunity presented itself, he took a quick aim, and then pulled the trigger. With the report there came a tremendous roar, so savage, so full of pent-up animal rage, that Bumpus immediately proceeded to climb up to a still higher limb of the tree in which he had found shelter.
“He’s down! No, he’s up again! Give him another, Thad! Oh! don’t I wish I had my Old Reliable here, though,” cried Giraffe.
Thad was awake to the necessity for prompt action. The bear, even though desperately wounded, was still full of fight. And there could be no telling what the maddened animal might not attempt, if given time.
Thad taking careful aim fired again.
He really felt an admiration for the hard-fighting grizzly, such as all hunters worthy of the name experience toward the four-footed enemy that puts up a game battle for its life.
There were four more bullets in the repeating rifle, and Thad had to make use of them all before he could really feel he had caused the last vital spark to flee from its abiding-place in the body of the shaggy monster.
But after the sixth and last shot had been fired, there was silence on the part of the terror of the mountain gulches. The grizzly’s last convulsive movement had taken place. No longer would his savage roar, echoing from cliff to cliff, cause all other wild animals to flee.
“Hurrah!” shouted Giraffe, as he dropped to the ground.
“Is he surely dead?” asked Smithy, from his perch aloft.