The boys said they saw it; but they had been expecting to see the animal itself.
“You’ll not see him till we poke him out,” laughed Ben, “and then, maybe, you’ll see too much of him. But come on, we may as well begin the festivities.” And, followed by the lads, he began a cautious advance toward the den.
In front of the dark hole beneath the rocks was a level platform several feet wide. The snow all about was trampled down, and Ben thought the animal had taken up its winter quarters there. How to get it out was the question, and he longed for the help of old Moze.
But wishing would do no good, and he looked for something with which to poke out the bear. Seeing a small sapling which had fallen from the top of the ledge and lodged among the rocks, he climbed nimbly up and brought it down.
Suddenly one deep growl after another echoed from the den. Ben dropped the pole and stood back, with rifle cocked, watching for the bear.
“Guess we won’t have to stir him up after all, boys; like as not he’s heard us moseying around out here, and he’s coming outside to investigate. You want to shoot as soon as you see him, and then watch out, ’cause he’s liable to be a mite peevish.”
The boys were trembling with excitement. There was no chance for a retreat. Gripping their rifles and setting their teeth, they made up their minds to give a good account of themselves, whatever happened.
The growling continued, but the bear refused to come out. After waiting some minutes in keen suspense, Ben picked up a small rock and hurled it into the den. An angry snarl followed, and the sound of scuffling, as though the brute had struck savagely at the missile. They waited a few moments longer, hoping that it would appear. Then Ben tossed another stone.
This time a louder roar came from the den, and with startled eyes the boys saw the snarling face of the bear before them.
“Shoot!” yelled Ben.