As is well known, all wild beasts dread the fire, and at once the bear paused. Then it arose again on its hind legs and uttered a roar that almost shook the lodge.
“Hello! what does that mean?” cried Fred and Harry, in a breath.
“It means there’s a wild animal in the lodge,” answered Joel Runnell, and leaped toward the window, gun in hand.
In the meantime the bear continued to stand in front of Joe, as if meditating an attack in spite of the fire. Once it raised a fore paw as if to strike the brand from the young hunter’s hand, but Joe did not permit this, and now the boy caught up a second stick, which was blazing at one end, and threatened the bear.
Again there was a roar of commingled rage and fear, and the bear leaped back, wrecking the table as it did so.
It must be confessed that Joe was badly alarmed. He felt that he was in close quarters, and unless somebody came to his help very quickly, the bear would, in some manner, get the better of him.
Glancing toward the window, he saw a dark object there. It was the head of Joel Runnell, and next followed the glistening barrel of the old hunter’s rifle.
“Hold up the light, Joe,” called old Runnell, and at the sound of his voice the bear wheeled around and stared toward the window with interest.
Crack! It was the rifle that rang out. But just as Joel Runnell pulled upon the trigger the bear turned to one side, so that the ball merely grazed its neck and side. Then came another roar, and, leaping over the wrecked table, the beast dove through the doorway leading to the sleeping apartment of the lodge and disappeared.
“Where did he go to?” cried old Runnell, as he lost no time in reloading.