"B-u-c-k-s-h-o-t," replied Arthur, in an almost inaudible voice. "Let's go home."
"Go home!" exclaimed Frank; "and without even one shot at that fellow! No, sir. You've got the only gun in the party, and, of course, you are the one to attack him. Go right up the path, and when you see him, bang away."
"How big is he?" asked Arthur.
"Why, if he is a full-grown grizzly, he is as big as a cow."
"Will he fight much?"
"I should say he would," answered Archie, who was somewhat surprised at these questions. "Have you forgotten the one you killed with your knife? He will be certain to follow you, if you don't disable him at the first shot, but he can't catch your horse. Besides, as soon as he comes in sight, Frank and I will give him a volley from our revolvers. You are not afraid?"
"Afraid!" repeated Arthur, compressing his lips, and scowling fiercely. "O, no."
"Well, then, make haste," said Frank, who was beginning to get impatient. "Ride up within ten paces of him, and let him have it. That's the way you used to serve the lions in Europe."
"Yes, go on," urged Archie; and he gave Arthur's horse a cut with his whip, to hurry him up.
"O, stop that!" whined Arthur, as the horse sprang forward so suddenly that his rider was nearly unseated. "I am going home."