“That was a corker!” yelled Boxy, somewhat recovering his courage. “Give him another, and—my gracious! He’s coming this way!”
It was true. The bear had turned swiftly, and was now making for the woods where Boxy, Andy and Pickles were standing. Jack in the meantime had crawled to one side, waiting for a chance to dash in and secure the rifle.
The three boys scrambled to get out of the way, and a second later Jack managed to gain possession of the much-coveted firearm.
The bear went a dozen paces or more and then stopped and turned to the boy with the rifle. He rushed up and stood on his hind legs, and at that moment Jack pulled the trigger.
The bullet passed through bruin’s shoulder, inflicting a dangerous but not fatal wound. The beast was now all but beaten, and yet there was lots of fight in him. Could he have reached one of the boys he would have killed him on the spot.
Seeing the bear so far away from the cliff, Harry slid down to the bottom, and as Jack ran off, with bruin at his heels, he slipped into the cave, and brought out all of the shotguns, each of which was luckily loaded with coarse buckshot.
As Jack ran in one direction, Harry took another, and soon joined Andy, Boxy and Pickles.
“Come with me,” he said, as he dealt out the guns. “We can get the best of that bear now if we only half try. He’s limping dreadfully.”
Off he dashed, and the others at his heels. They caught up to the bear at the instant that Jack yelled to them to come to his assistance.
Bang! bang! went the shotguns in rapid succession. The four doses were too much for bruin. He uttered one growl, sharp and shrill, and then tumbled over—dead.