A little later it looked as if the brute had decided to do the very thing a certain youth up a tree wished him to do. He lumbered off a few paces, taking him beyond sight in the dense shadows. The rustling of the leaves grew fainter, and by and by ceased altogether. Harvey’s hopes rose, when fifteen minutes passed without the sound of a growl or the stirring of the dead leaves on the ground.
“I believe he has gone,” whispered the lad, as if afraid his voice might bring back his enemy. “But it’s best to make sure.”
By and by the chafing by the limb which he bestrode grew unbearable. He drew his leg over and began sliding down the smooth trunk, inching along, often pausing, listening, and peering into the dusk, ready to scramble up again on the first sign from his foe.
After a long time, he felt the toe of one shoe softly touch the leaves. He lowered the other and stood erect. The relief from his onerous posture was great.
“It does a fellow good,” he mused, “I wonder how those hunters stand it when they are treed and kept off the ground for hours at a time. I’m glad I’m rid of this plaguy bear—Great Cæsar!”
A terrific threshing of the undergrowth showed that the brute was returning like a cyclone. He had gone only a few paces, as if to tempt the fugitive to do the very thing he had done. I have said that Harvey Hamilton when first chased by the black bear climbed the sapling more quickly than he had ever done a similar thing before. I must add that this second exhibition in that line surpassed his first, and established a record. In a twinkling he was up on his perch again, with one of his muscular legs doubled over the limb, feeling as if he would stay there a week before running so fearful a risk as the one from which he had just escaped.
“Of all creatures in the world,” he said disgustedly, “the bear is the meanest. I never harmed this one, and what has he got against me? He stole my lunch and wants to use me as dessert. It isn’t very pleasant up here,” he sighed, “but it beats being chewed up by a bear. I wonder whether there’s anybody near enough to hear me if I yell.”
He was reluctant to resort to this, since the coming of any person in the circumstances was likely to interfere with his search for his missing comrade. He decided to wait, hoping that after all the bear would grow tired of hanging around and swing off into the woods.
Harvey held on like a hero, shifting his position so far as he was able, until it became so irksome that he decided to slide down the trunk and run for another tree. His dread was that in making the attempt he would blunder and not find the refuge at instant command; for with a ravenous bear at one’s heels no person can afford to move leisurely.
When it seemed that an hour had passed, though the time was much less, he called out, pretended to descend the sapling and really did go part way. The silence was so complete that hope sprang up again, and by and by he glided slowly down inch by inch until his feet once more touched the leaves. He stood waiting and listening, but heard nothing to send him scrambling back to his perch.