"This won't do," said the elder; "if Jack makes a fight with the bears we must help him."

"That's what I think," added George, who, as he faced about, raised the flint of his gun.

The sight was a stirring one. There stood Jack with his gun at his shoulder, and pointed at the front of the savage-looking beast that had paused, as if from curiosity, and was looking at him. Close behind were the other two brutes, swinging along in their awkward fashion, indifferent to the drama that must open within the next few moments.

Both Will and George could have sent a bullet into the body of the leading bear without stirring from where they stood, had they been so minded, but one or two causes restrained them.

it was clear that, so to speak, the foremost brute belonged to Jack himself, and he might well take offence if they should open on him before it was seen that their help was needed.

Then, too, the instant the first one should be disposed of, the others would demand attention. The crack of the rifle, and the fall or struggles of the brute, would tell his companions what had taken place, even though Bruin is one of the most stupid of animals. Jack's gun having been fired, it was more than likely that he would be unable to re-load it in time to make defence against the others. He would have to leave them, therefore, for his comrades to dispose of. They knew that Jack would be able to take care of his special charge unless some slip took place. And that slip did take place. The young hunter observed, while his eye was running along the sights of his rifle, that a small limb or twig, no thicker than his finger, reached across the trail between him and the bear, so that it was in the exact line of his fire.

While ordinarily this would have made no difference to the swift-speeding bullet, yet the lad was wise enough to wait until the bear had advanced far enough to shift the line out of the way. This was the cause of the brothers thinking that Jack held his aim a long time.

At the instant of firing, however, a slight puff of wind stirred the leaves and moved the twig, so that the stem bowed again across the path of the bullet.

The consequence was that the ball was turned just enough out of its course to wound instead of killing the brute. It chipped its way through a corner of the skull without making a fatal hurt, though it was one that roused all the fury of the enormous beast.

Will and George, who were closely watching events, were sure that Jack had killed Bruin, who reared on his hind legs and swung his paws as if trying to draw the supposed splinters from his flesh. Then, instead of toppling over like a small mountain, he made straight for the young man who he well knew had caused his hurt.