"I smell something awful queer," he whispered.
The trail wound along the edge of a sharp descent and just ahead was an abrupt turn.
Ere either Larry or Horace could reply to their companion's announcement all three were dumb-founded to see a big, shaggy brown head appear round the turn in the trail.
"It's a bear!" gasped Horace.
At the sight of the three boys the big head had paused in surprise. Then its lips began to curl, disclosing a wicked looking set of teeth, and finally it broke into a savage snarl, at the same time rising in the air.
"He's getting to his hind legs. That means fight!" breathed
Horace. "Come on, let's run!"
"But he'd overtake us and beat us down with his paws," returned
Larry. "We've got to kill him."
Less time did the action consume than is required to describe it, and the boys were standing terror stricken when the bear charged upon them, making vicious lunges at them with his huge paws.
Roused from his fright by the imminence of his peril, Tom raised his rifle, only to have it knocked from his hands by a swing of one of the bear's paws.
[Illustration: The rifle was knocked from his hand.]