“We got him! We got him!” exulted Fred, dancing around. “And look at the size of him!”
“Some bear rug there, I’ll say,” was Randy’s comment.
“No bare floor with a bear rug like that,” chuckled Andy, who even in such a moment of excitement had to have his little joke.
“Now the question is, how are we going to get this bear down to camp?” said Gif, after they had made certain the creature was dead.
“We might as well skin it right here,” suggested Spouter. “No need of carting the whole carcass along. Why, it must weigh five or six hundred pounds!”
“We’ve got to have a picture of him,” cried Fred. And several snap shots were taken without delay.
“We want some bear steaks for supper,” said Jack. “We’ll treat Mr. Stevenson to a surprise.”
“Why can’t we roll the bear over to the brook and float him down somehow,” suggested Gif. And after a good deal of labor this was done and they managed to bring the carcass to a point some distance behind the bungalow. Here they skinned the bear and cut out the choicest of the meat, chopping up the remainder and dragging it off so that the smell might not reach camp.
Fred and Spouter were trying their hand at broiling some bear steaks when they heard a shout from the other lads. Thinking that Mr. Stevenson had arrived, they ran to the front of the bungalow, to behold a rowboat coming in containing a single occupant.
“It’s Jeff come back! What do you know about that?” cried Gif, in disgust.