“Would he have attacked us, do you think?” asked Bob.
“Not in a hundred years, if he could get away,” replied Tinny. “Of course now and then grizzly or black bears will show fight if cornered, or if they have cubs, but generally they see you first and make for the tall timber. That’s where this one is headed.”
Indeed, the grizzly was now out of sight, though his odor must have lingered in the air, for the horses were uneasy for some time afterward.
“Gosh! If I’d been a second quicker I could have popped him over and we’d have had bear steaks,” lamented Chunky.
“Not much danger of you laying him out with one shot,” said Tinny. “And if you had wounded him we might have had a nasty fight on our hands. It’s as well he was frightened away as he was. And as for bear steaks—well, the less said about them the better.”
“Aren’t they good eating?” asked the fat lad.
“Not to my notion,” was the reply. “They’re too rank. Indians may relish them, but I don’t. A bear isn’t a very dainty feeder. He’s too fond of carrion, and that doesn’t make for tasty flesh. I’m just as glad Mr. Grizzly went.”
But it was many months before Bob ceased lamenting the fine chance he had missed of bringing to earth a great grizzly bear—for the bear was an immense one.
“Well, that little excitement will digest our meal,” remarked Ned, when they had returned after going a little way up the mountain in a fruitless attempt to catch another sight of bruin.