It was only the softness of the snow beneath him that saved Dave from serious injury. As the bear came down on the young hunter both sank so deeply that Dave was buried completely from sight. The beast ripped the sleeve of his hunting jacket, but that was all.
By this time Rodney was coming up once more. He managed to reload, and taking a somewhat unsteady aim, he let drive, and struck bruin in the left side. The wound caused the bear to utter a grunt of pain, and scramble up beside where Dave lay.
"Jump, Dave!" cried Rodney. "Jump for your life!" But Dave did not hear him, for the reason that his ears were completely filled with snow.
At this critical moment something occurred which filled Rodney with satisfaction. Forth from the forest came two men, one a tall, bronzed frontiersman, dressed in a thick hunting shirt and a coonskin cap, and the other a somewhat aged Indian of the Delaware tribe. Both were armed, and each carried several rabbits and turkeys in his game bag.
"Sam Barringford! And White Buffalo!" ejaculated the former cripple. "Hurry up! The bear has Dave in the snow, and is going to maul him."
"Not ef I know it!" sang out the old frontiersman addressed, and he brought around his long rifle with a movement so quick it could scarcely be followed. Several long leaps took him to the very side of the beast. Bang! went his weapon, and the bullet entering the creature's ear, passed directly through the brain. This shot was followed almost instantly by one from White Buffalo, which took the bear in the eye, and with a shudder the beast sank down, gave a quiver or two, and remained still forever.
"Good for you, Sam," said Rodney, when it was over. "That was a prime shot. And yours was good, too, White Buffalo."
"White Buffalo's shot was not needed," answered the Indian, simply. "But White Buffalo could not stand by and see his friend Dave in such great danger. The bear was big and powerful. There are times when one shot is not enough for a big bear."
"It's the same that we hit afore," came from Sam Barringford. "He is a sockdolager, an' no error. We tried our prettiest to bring him down, but he got away from us."
By this time Dave was climbing out of the snow as best he could. As he cleared his face, he gazed in astonishment at the newcomers, and then at the bear.