Then Hank stepped five paces toward the deer and shot. He missed. I stepped up five paces more and I missed. Harry went five paces closer and was the first to hit it. After that we all shot from where he had stood, until we all had hit it.
Skinny had come up and I was just asking him if he had seen Benny, when we heard a great crashing through the bushes and in a minute he came in sight, running like sixty.
He was almost tuckered out when he reached us and had only breath enough left to say:
"Run! It's a bear!"
We ran, all right, but after a little I looked back and could see that there was nothing following.
"Hold up—a minute," I panted. "It—ain't a-comin'."
"Where was it, Benny?" I asked, when they had come back. "Where did you see it?"
"I didn't see it. I only heard it. It was stepping around in the bushes and I heard it grunt. I didn't wait to see it."
"I wish I had my rope," said Skinny. "I left it in the wagon. Come on, anyhow. We'll surround the critter and shoot him."
Skinny scared us when he said that. I could feel cold chills chasing up and down my back bone, when I thought of surrounding a live bear.