"How did you get away?" asked Darry.
"I didn't know what to do fust. The b'ar had me foul, and kept right at the bottom of the tree all the time. With his wounded leg he couldn't come up, and I didn't dare to go down, and there we was—a-lookin' at each other, he a-growlin' and I a-sayin' all kind o' unpleasant things about him."
"Didn't you have a pistol?"
"No, all I had with me at the time was a powder-horn, a matchbox, and my pocket-knife. What to do I didn't know, and I was a-thinkin' I'd be starved out, when a thought struck me to blow him up with powder."
"Blow him up!" cried both boys.
"Thet's wot, lads—blow him up. I had a handkerchief, ye see, an' into this I dumped 'bout half my powder, an' into the powder I put three matches, with the ends pointing out. Then I tied powder an' matches into a hard lump and watched my chance. There was a flat rock near the roots of the tree, and putty soon Mr. B'ar squatted on this rock. Then I let drive fer the rock, an' the powder an' matches landed good an' hard, I can tell ye."
"And exploded?" put in Joe eagerly.
"Yes, exploded with a noise ye could hear 'most a mile, I calkerlate. The powder flashed straight up into thet ba'r's face, blindin' him and tearing his jaw half off, and the way he ran to save himself was a caution. As soon as he was gone I dropped down and ran for my gun. Then I made after the b'ar and caught him between the rocks and finished him."
This was the last story told that night, and soon after the tale was concluded Leeson showed the boys into the inner room of the cabin, where there was something of a rough bed with a straw mattress.
"Make yerselves ter hum," he said. "It aint no hotel, but it's the best I've got to offer ye."