As it was certain that nothing could be done in the way of vanquishing the monster, the question now was as to how long he would remain. While he was present, no one could entertain any idea of descending, and if he should take it into his head to spend several days there, there certainly was reason to fear the most serious consequences.
An hour passed and still the brute sat as motionless as a statue. Being several yards from the camp-fire, its fitful light gave him a most terrible appearance. The trio kept up a pointless conversation for a long time, Teddy gradually withdrawing from it, until he became silent altogether.
No notice was taken of this fact for some time, until suddenly Black Tom became suspicious and called his name. Receiving no response, he exclaimed, to old Stebbins:
“Bufflers and Blackfeet! he’s goin’ to sleep!”
“If he does he’s gone, sure. Wake him up!”
“Teddy! Teddy!” called Tom, “wake up, or you never will.”
“Aoogh! what—”
Too late. The Irishman, in his bewilderment, did not comprehend his perilous position, and making an uneasy movement, lost his hold and fell!
And fell in such a manner that he struck full length upon the back of the frightful brute!
A shudder of horror shook the trappers, as they looked down upon what they regarded the certain death of their comrade, who gave a shriek of terror as he rolled like a log helpless to the ground.