“Shoot!” he cried. “There’s a lot of bears under this tree!”
Although convulsed with laughter, the boys moved more cautiously after this. At last they came to the pine from which the voice proceeded. There was a rustle in the thicket as they advanced, and they saw a black object shambling away.
“There’s Gilroy’s flock of bears!” Jimmie shouted.
“And a little bit of a black bear at that,” Ned laughed. “If Gilroy had made an ugly face at him, he’d have run away!”
The tree into which the fat confidential clerk had climbed was not a large one. In fact, it was swaying dangerously under his weight. As he moved his position at sight of the black back of the bear, the slender upshoot to which he clung gave way and he came clattering down through the few lower branches.
“Oh my! oh my! oh my!” he shouted. “I never should have come into this blasted country! I shall be eaten alive!”
Instead of rushing to Gilroy’s assistance, his rescuers, boy-like, sat down on the mat of pine needles which strewed the ground and roared with laughter. Gilroy eyed them angrily without attempting to rise to his feet. His rage only made the scene more amusing.
“Why didn’t you shoot him?” he demanded at length.
“Shoot him?” repeated Jimmie. “That bear is a great deal more frightened than you are. At the rate of speed he’s now going, he’ll strike the arctic circle at exactly four-fifteen tomorrow morning!”
“He chased me up the tree,” whined Gilroy. “He nipped at my heels as I left the ground, and I heard his teeth grinding together in the most frightful manner. I’ll never get over this!”