“Mebbe he’s shammin’,” said Ben. “Don’t ye go too nigh the durned critter. It’d be jest like him to git up and go fer ye the minnit yer feet teched the ground. Jan?”
“Vat?”
“Git down outer that tree and go an’ prick him with yer knife. Ef he don’t git up then we may safely conclude he’s a dead b’ar.”
“I ain’t a vool!” said Jan. “I don’t vant nottings more to do mit te pears. You go you’self unt brick him.”
“All right,” said Ben, “I’ll do it; and if he is a dead b’ar, I’ll take his sculp.”
“Dake him all,” said Jan. “I not vants him. Der duyvel! He ish von plack peast. I vash scared mit him.”
Ben got down from the tree and crept cautiously toward the rock, keeping it between himself and the bear. He reached it and drew himself carefully up the side. He found the gun lying on the rock where Jan had dropped it, and then, creeping forward, he looked down upon the grizzly. The first look was enough, and he hailed his companions with a shout.
“Safe?” said Jules.
“Dead as a hammer,” replied Ben.
Jules slid down from his tree and hastened to join his companion. The grizzly lay where he fell, and they could see that the heavy charge of the roer had passed into the ear of the dead brute, and blown a passage completely through his head.