“That you, Watty?” he said, without looking round. “Bother the box! Here, Watty, got any matches?” Phoo!
A deep-toned expiration of the breath was the answer, and the boy turned his head, to find that, not three yards from where he knelt, a huge bear, whose long fur had quite a pale golden tinge in the sunshine, was literally towering over him upon its hind legs with fore paws extended as if to catch him.
Steve’s spring over the fireplace was of a kind that, improved by practice, was sufficiently fine to promise his taking rank as the greatest standing jumper of his time, while his speed in running certainly merited praise as he found that the great beast, which must have stood up some seven feet, had now dropped on all fours and was in full chase.
For choice Steve would have run toward his friends, but he had no option. The bear blocked the way in that direction; on his right there was the rapid rise of the mountain; on the left the ground was broken and boggy; before him the way open toward the mouth of the valley where they had left the boat, and naturally this way he ran, hoping that the bear would soon tire of the pursuit, and believing in his power to run more swiftly.
The way was not good, for it was encumbered with blocks of stone that had fallen from above; but Steve felt that they must be as bad for the bear as for him, and he pressed on, taking off his bonnet to hold it in one hand as he ran.
He glanced over his shoulder, and there was the bear appearing to shuffle along clumsily, but getting over the ground at a great rate of speed, which told the lad that he need do his best; but he consoled himself with the belief that, unless terribly hungry, the bear would not follow him for long; on the other hand, if famished, it would keep on and tire him out, and then—
Steve obstinately refused to let his imagination carry him any farther—the thoughts were too horrible; and, mentally vowing that if he managed to get clear away he would never feel any compunction in helping to shoot a bear again, but would do his best to become the owner of its rich, whitish fur, he tore on as hard as he could go, fully conscious of the fact that the bear, though some yards behind, was determined to tire him out and run him down.
The way now became more open, and as he raced on he just glanced at the opening to the narrow ravine on his right, for there was no temptation to leave the broad, open way for a stone-encumbered defile.
No temptation then; but the next moment there was, for he was not far past enjoying the satisfaction of distancing his pursuer, when his heart sank, and a curdling sensation of horror so convulsed him that he dropped his cap, and pressed his hands to his throat; for there, fifty yards in front, and coming toward him, was a second bear, into whose jaws he was running hard.
Danger behind, danger before, and between them death without mercy. There was only one way out of the peril, and that was to run back and turn up the narrow defile.