He dropped in his line, properly baited, and waited for a bite. He was lucky, for soon up came a nice maskalonge. Then, a few minutes later, came a rock bass—something for which he had not been looking. He grew interested, and forgot all about the noise he had heard, until the cracking of some bushes caught his ears.
"There's that noise again," he muttered. "What in the world can it be?"
For the first time since leaving the shelter Giant wished he had brought along his shotgun. What if some game should suddenly appear?
"If a deer should come along and I couldn't shoot it, it would make me sick," he told himself. "And game is always sure to come along when you haven't a gun."
Giant had now seven fish, four of good size. He decided to wait for just one more, then wind up and go back to the shelter. It was rather cold sitting at the fishing hole and his feet were beginning to feel very much like the ice under them.
He had baited up with care, and allowed the line to sink almost to the bottom of the lake, when a fresh noise startled him. This was another crackling sound. There followed a low, suppressed growl, and turning in the direction of the shore Giant was horrified to see a big, black bear come lumbering into view!
"A bear! I'll have to get out of here!" he ejaculated, and snatching up his fish and line and the axe he started on a run for the shelter.
The bear came out on the ice and toward the hole. Then it smelt the fish, and a moment later started on a clumsy run after the fleeing youth!