With a fierce growl, the bear whirled and knocked the rifle out of Frank's grasp.
In a dazed manner, Old Rocks saw everything.
"Ther kid's a goner!" thought the guide. "We're both done fer!"
Out Frank snapped a revolver, and then, taking a step toward the bear, he fired five bullets into the creature in marvelously rapid succession.
A roar came from the bear's throat, and the beast reared on its hind feet, its jaws dripping blood and foam, and rushed upon the dauntless boy.
Frank flung aside the revolver, just as Rocks struggled to a sitting posture, thickly crying:
"Run, kid! run fer yer life!"
"Not much!" came through Frank's set teeth. "Think I'd run and leave you to the bear! I guess not!"
"Dog my cats!" murmured the guide, weakly.
The bear, dripping blood from its many wounds, still fierce as a raging tiger, came at Frank. The boy dodged, managed to avoid the rush, and gave the beast a wicked stab with the knife.