Of course there followed a terrible uproar, and in a twinkle both bears left the pile of rocks and came toward those who had wounded them. The one that had been wounded in the eye was mortally hit, however, and staggered in a heap before he had gone ten paces.
But the second bear was full of fight, and his course was directly for Tom. Before the lad could run the beast was almost on top of him.
"Dodge him!" called out Dick. "Dodge him, Tom!"
"Shoot him, somebody!" yelled back Tom. "Shoot him, quick!"
And then he dodged behind some nearby brush. But the bear was almost as quick, and ran directly into the brushwood, to face him on the opposite side.
By this time John Barrow had the rifle reloaded, and now he skirted the brushwood, followed by Dick. Crack! went the rifle again, just as bruin was about to pounce upon Tom. But the bullet merely clipped the hair on the bear's back, and in a twinkle the beast was on Tom and had the lad down.
With his heart in his throat, Dick made a leap with the shotgun. Bang! went the piece, when he was not over three yards from the bear. The charge entered the beast's ear, and with a snort he rolled over and over in the snow, sending it flying in every direction.
Freed of the bear, Tom lost no time in scrambling to his feet. Soon the struggles of the beast ceased, and they knew he was either dying or dead. To make sure, John Barrow stepped in, hunting knife in hand, and plunged the blade into his throat. Then the other bear was served in the same fashion.
The fight had been of short duration, yet the peril had been extreme, and after it was over poor Tom found he could scarcely stand. Dick led him to a rock and set him down, asking him if he was hurt.
"I got a scratch on the arm, but I reckon it's not much," was the faint answer. "But it was a close call, wasn't it?"