Suddenly the mother bear rose to her feet, and, growling angrily, stood facing the direction from which Ed would come. George yelled as loudly as he could, for he felt sure his friend was advancing to his doom. His shout was immediately answered, and George groaned.
“Hey, Ed, look out—go back—there’s a bear waiting for you!” he screamed, at the top of his voice.
Ed shouted something in reply, but George could not understand what he said. He realized that his warning had been useless. Again he shouted, and kept on shouting; but either Ed would not or could not understand. He was quite close now, and George could hear him forcing his way through the brush.
Then the savage roar echoed in George’s ears, and he saw the bear charge.
“Run, Ed, run! She’s after you!” he cried.
For some moments a strange, uncanny silence followed the noise of the bear crashing through the bushes.
“Are you all right? Answer me, Ed!” he implored.
“Yes—I’m—all right—so far,” came the labored reply, as if Ed had been either badly frightened or completely “winded.” “I’m in—a tree—about half-way up. Say, it looks like she is coming up after me!” he yelled nervously.
“Go on up higher!” urged George.
“Can’t—I’m—stuck on this—blamed—stub!” was the alarming reply. Then, after a pause: “All right, I’m free. I don’t believe she’ll come up, after all.”