Reloading hastily, the six lads circled the brushwood cautiously, each straining for another sight of the black bear. They could hear a low growl and saw some of the bushes suddenly move.
“Give him another dose just for luck,” suggested Gif, and the six firearms sounded almost as one as all the lads fired at the spot where they thought the black bear might be.
How many of the shots reached the mark they were never to ascertain. But evidently the bear was hit again, and with a fearful roar of rage and pain it suddenly burst from the brushwood and lumbered in the direction where Fred and Spouter were standing.
“Shoot him! Shoot him quick!”
Crack! went Jack’s rifle and bang! came a report from the shotgun Gif carried. Then one after another the other weapons rang out and the black bear was halted when less than three yards away from Fred and Spouter. The huge creature, now on its hind legs, tottered from side to side and then came down with a crash at the foot of a big tree.
“Hurrah! We’ve got him!” cried Randy.
“Be careful! Maybe we’ll have to give him a shot or two more,” cautioned Jack.
The young major was right. The bear, a tough old fellow, was by no means dead. Though seriously wounded, it thrashed around and then did its best to stand up.
“I’m going to finish him,” cried Fred, and before any one could stop the stout young Rover, he had run forward and sent a charge of buckshot directly into the bear’s ear. At once the huge creature rolled over on its back, gave a few spasmodic jerks, and then lay still.
For a moment after the end came the boys could scarcely understand what had happened. Then, as they realized that they had laid the big black bear low, their faces broke out into smiles and they shook each other by the hand.