But the bear had followed the dog with its eyes, and now, forsaking the scent it had been running down, it swung its head from side to side so as to get each eye to bear well in turn upon its enemies, quite ignoring the dog when he dashed back barking furiously.
“Call the dog, and keep him with you, Steve,” said the captain loudly, but without turning; and in obedience to the summons Skene returned to his master, and stayed there, held by the long hair of his neck, trembling with excitement.
There was a low, deep growl now, and the bear stopped, facing them, as if undecided whom first to attack; and then it came on again growling, with its mind still not made up.
These were the most exciting moments, for all felt that the beast might charge in a way which gave no good opportunity for a deadly shot.
It was very close now, and its eyes flashed in the sunshine as it swung its head about with its muzzle close down to the ground, though it was not scenting its way now, but carefully watching its enemies.
Skene uttered an excited yelp just then, and recognising in it the little foe which had so pertinaciously hung on to it for some time past, the bear now uttered a growl, and turned toward where Steve stood with the dog.
“Rin, Meester Stevey, rin!” cried Watty, setting the example; “she’s coming here.”
But the bear soon changed its tactics, for Johannes took a few steps forward and made a thrust at the animal with his lance.
The great brute uttered a furious roar, swung round, struck at the lance shaft, and rose up upon its hind legs to seize the aggressor.
It was a dangerous position for the Norseman, for could the bear get one blow at him with its great hook-armed paw, his chances of being extricated alive were doubtful. But he stood firm, for he had perfect confidence in the captain, and knew that he would seize this opportunity to fire. He was quite right. The captain drew trigger, there was the sharp, loud crack of the rifle, and almost simultaneously the thud of the bullet.