“But it seemed like twenty feet when he reared up at us,” explained Bobby.
“He was an old sockdolager, all right,” added Mouser.
“I don’t want to see any bear so close again,” remarked Pee Wee.
“I’ve seen him in my sleep once or twice since,” said Fred, “and I’ve waked up all in a sweat.”
“Just which one of you was it that killed it?” asked Sam, his eyes as big as saucers.
“That’s something we can’t tell,” answered Bobby. “We all fired at it, but I guess it was Gid Harple, the guide, who did the trick. He was a dandy shot, all right.”
“Gid’s going to fix up the claws and teeth and send ’em down to us,” said Mouser. “Then you can see for yourself just what a big fellow that bear was.”
“I heard that you had a shot at a wildcat too,” put in “Skeets” Brody.
“Yes,” said Fred, “and that was a fool stunt too. We didn’t have much chance of getting him, and that left our guns empty when we saw the bear the first time. My! but we had a run for it that day. Talk about a Marathon!”
“How did Pee Wee manage to make it?” asked Frank skeptically. “I can’t imagine him putting on speed.”