“It has got to be a bear to-day,” said Harry. “If it isn’t I shall be much disappointed.”
“Reckon we’ll have to take what comes,” answered Joe. Still he wanted to bring down a bear as much as did his chum.
They resolved to strike out to the westward, over the ridge and toward a hill topped with a heavy growth of timber. Here was a series of rough rocks which, according to Harry’s idea, would make an ideal hiding place for a bear.
They set out on their snowshoes, and it was not long before the ridge was gained, and then they started directly for the hill, at a point where there was something of a gorge or gully, where in the summer time flowed a deep brook. But this watercourse was now frozen over, and the surface was covered with snow ten feet in depth.
A light breeze was blowing, otherwise the weather was as it had been the day before. The way up the hill was rather hard, and having reached the top they were glad enough to sit down on a fallen tree and rest.
Thus quarter of an hour went by, and they were on the point of resuming their journey when Joe caught sight of something moving through the timber on the other side of the hill.
“Harry, what do you make out that to be?” he whispered.
His chum took a careful look.
“I believe it’s a bear!”
“That is just what I was thinking.”