Bobby shuddered and wondered how they could lie so quiet under the watchfulness of that sinister glare.
He felt Fred’s arm jerk from his grasp and knew he could no longer be restrained. Bobby knew that the moment for action had come and he gathered himself to meet it.
Shouting wildly, waving his arms above his head, he dashed out into the open, seeing one thing, and one thing only—that rifle lying in the snow.
The bear, bewildered, shrank back, staring. Only a moment, but that moment was enough for Bobby. As, with a roar, the beast sprang forward, Bobby straightened himself, rifle in hand.
A charging roar—a shot—the beast towering above him, staggering—another shot—another—and a dirty yellow beast writhing in the snow! Then quiet and a stain upon the snow that spread and spread, turning it to red.
CHAPTER XXV
THE BLINDING BLIZZARD
The whole thing had happened so suddenly that Fred and Billy and Mouser did not move from the spot where Bobby himself had been but a moment before.
Now they stared dumbly at him, looking with white faces from Bobby to the beast that lay so still on the snow at his feet.
The Eskimos were the first to stir, and they got to their feet slowly, dazedly, as though waking from a hideous nightmare, not quite sure yet that they were actually alive and unhurt.