“Captain Joe knows that there’s been trouble here,” Clay said. “He is sizing up the damage. Wise old scout, that.”
“Suppose we size up the damage in the cabin?” Case exclaimed, darting through the doorway and switching on the lights.
The cabin was in a mess, to express it mildly. Bruin had broken down the table while trying to reach the sugar, and the bear stew left over from dinner was standing in puddles on the floor. The coal heater was standing at an alarming angle—one of the legs having been knocked out from under it. The bunks looked as if the bear had tried to sleep in each one of them and found them all inconvenient on account of size.
“Never mind,” Alex cried, “I’ve got plenty of game out on the bank. We’ll have a partridge supper, and give Teddy an extra share for bringing this big fellow here. Say, but he’s a monster, isn’t he?”
“That is a she bear,” replied Case. “A she bear, like the one that came out of the wilderness and devoured forty children because they called a prophet names. I hated to shoot her, because she came here as a guest, but I thought I’d rather eat her than have her eat me.”
“Teddy seemed to make friends with her until Captain Joe arrived,” Clay declared, “but when the dog showed up the cub’s allegiance turned to him. Which is the way of the world, after all!”
The boys set to work straightening up the cabin and, this accomplished, they dragged the great carcase of the grizzly to the shore and proceeded to skin it. Some of the meat was laid away for the next day, Alex’s catch providing for the supper that night.
“We’ll have to draw lots for the rug the hide will make,” Clay said, as, hunter fashion, they worked salt into the green skin and hung it up.
“I ought to have it,” Alex insisted. “I shot the first bear.”
“Case ought to have it,” Clay advised, “because he shot this one.”