“Serve him right for being such a coward,” muttered the doctor.
The bear was some fifty yards before them, and Andrew McByle another fifty, but with the bear gaining upon him fast, it being astonishing how rapidly the great unwieldy animal could shuffle over the rough ground.
Just then Andrew looked back over his shoulder at his pursuer, uttered a wild yell, threw away the rifle, and with his hands in the air ran on faster.
“I can’t fire for fear of hitting the man,” panted the captain; and then he uttered a cry of satisfaction, for, in his alarm, Andrew had made for broken ground, tripped over a rock, and fell heavily, whilst the bear uttered a fierce roar.
“Halt!” shouted the captain, bending on one knee, as Andrew disappeared, having plumped himself behind a huge block of stone.
Steve followed his leader’s example, and fired directly after, aiming as carefully as possible at the running beast.
“Missed!” muttered Steve.
“I think that touched him!” cried the captain, hurriedly opening the breech of his piece and thrusting in another cartridge.
“Yes, that stopped him,” said the doctor, as the bear swung round and bit viciously at a spot somewhere about the centre of its back.
Then the doctor fired, but his shot had no effect save to draw the animal’s attention to its pursuers, and it came at them at once, showing its teeth now viciously, while the two Norsemen placed themselves on either side of the little party ready for the attack.