He was right. The bigger bear of the two came forward with a bound, landing almost at Dave's feet. Crack! crack! went Mr. Porter's pistol, and the huge animal was hit twice, in the breast and in the neck. The bear uttered a sound that was half growl and half yelp and then came on again. Crack! went Dave's pistol, and the bullet hit the beast directly in the teeth, knocking one of them down the animal's throat. Wounded and alarmed, the bear stood still, and again the boy fired, and then the bear turned and lumbered away into the brushwood, wounded just sufficiently to make it thoroughly disagreeable. The other bear followed; and the battle, for the time being, came to an end.
"Come, Dave, it is dangerous to stay out here," said Mr. Porter. "Let us go back into the hollow, and bring that fire with you if you can."
Mr. Porter crawled back and the youth followed, dragging the burning brushwood behind him. Then Dave took both pistols and reloaded the empty chambers with all possible speed.
"I see you have learned the first rule of hunting," said his father, with a smile.
"What is that?"
"Never to carry around an empty or partly empty weapon. I kept my pistol loaded up as long as I had any cartridges left."
"I wish I had some more brushwood to put on the fire—that would keep the beasts off. Wonder if I can't break some of the stuff off?"
"Don't go out yet, Dave—it's dangerous," pleaded Mr. Porter.
"I'll keep my eyes on the bears, never fear," was the reply.
With caution the youth crawled over to the nearest patch of brushwood, a distance of fifty feet. As he broke off some of the dry twigs a low growl reached his ears. But he kept at the task until he had as much as he thought he could carry.