Ned felt himself beginning to tremble, but he conquered the inclination, and raised his gun. The muzzle wavered a bit, but he managed to steady himself.
Suddenly the bear, as if some instinct warned him of the presence of enemies, raised his head and gave a loud “woof!” Instantly Ned fired, and to his delight he saw bruin give a convulsive leap into the air, and then whirl about, to fall a moment later.
But, before the animal reached the ground there was the report of another rifle at right angles to where our friends stood, and a puff of smoke told of the presence of another hunter.
“Someone else is after him!” exclaimed Harvey; “but you winged him first, Ned! Come on, he’s dead I guess!”
Together they sprang forward, but they had hardly reached the carcass of the bear, which was twitching in the death tremor, before there stepped from the underbrush the Blackfeet Indian leader. He held a smoking rifle in his hand, and as he stalked forward he said with a scowl:
“Me shoot! That Indian bear!”
“Get out!” cried Mr. Brill. “Those are our bear steaks! We shot him first!”
“Indian bear!” said the warrior, fiercely; and, as he raised his hand, there came out from the bushes several of his followers.