“You stay here to keep them from taking the little fellows out, and I’ll go back to the cabin and get something to dig with,” said Ed, hurrying away.
George sat down beside the entrance of the den. He expected one or both of the foxes to return, and wondered what they would do when they found him there. Then he began to think; and the more he thought, the less enthusiasm he had for the undertaking in hand. Somehow it did not seem right to destroy the home which represented so much hard labor on the part of the old “red” and his mate. If they could get one of the young ones without demolishing the den and leaving the others deserted and homeless, he would have felt better about it. He believed that Ed would feel much the same. George thought that by watching the den they might find one of the youngsters playing before the entrance, when it might be a simple matter to capture it.
Then his alert ears caught the sound of snapping twigs. He looked toward the sound, and his heart gave a great bound of joy. It seemed that his noble resolutions were about to be rewarded. There in plain sight, and but a short way from the den, was a small, brown-furred creature. In his eagerness George instantly mistook it for one of the young foxes.
He dashed forward; but it turned at sight of him and ran into the bushes, squealing lustily. George ran after it, but was unable to overtake the little fugitive before it had concealed itself in the dense cover. He searched around in the low undergrowth, and finally frightened his supposed fox from its hiding-place and endeavored to seize it with his hands.
Then there was a great crashing of brush behind him, and the lad was almost startled out of his senses by a savage roar. His frightened glance showed him the head and shoulders of a large black bear, which was coming directly at him. In an instant the truth flashed across his mind—it was one of her cubs he had been chasing.
Wheeling in panic, George sprinted toward a tree, and luckily gained it several yards ahead of the bear. He lost little time “shinneying” to a high branch, where, white and shaky, he sat looking down at the infuriated animal below.
Fortunately, the tree was of small circumference, and after sniffing about the trunk, the bear decided not to climb it. The lad watched her anxiously as she gathered her cubs—there were two of them. Then his heart sank, for she evidently intended to remain at the base of the tree until he came down.
George sat on his dizzy perch and blamed himself for his stupidity in mistaking a bear cub for a baby fox. Now that he saw it plainly, he was unable to note any resemblance.
The old bear rose several times and placed her fore feet against the tree. Each time she did this, poor George nervously meditated the distance he would be obliged to drop to reach the ground before the bear reached him. When she finally walked off and sat down some little distance away, he felt greatly relieved.
Then a new thought came to him. What about Ed? He would soon return from the cabin, and, unless warned, would walk right into the ugly brute. As he saw the danger his impulsiveness had placed his friend in, George grew sick at heart. If he could only hear him approaching, perhaps he might be able to warn him before it was too late. What worried him was the fear that Ed would draw near unheard. Anxious and troubled, he sat aloft straining his ears to catch some sound that would proclaim the return of his friend.