"Oh, pshaw!" came from Mr. Ranquist, "of course it isn't the boys' fault. How could they help it?"
"Well, perhaps they couldn't," admitted Mr. Dudley, "but it's very unpleasant, to say the least."
Then the bear began another attack on the tree where Mr. Dudley was, with such savage energy that it needed all the engineer's strength to prevent himself from being shaken down.
"Oh! Oh!" cried Mr. Dudley, desperately. "Something will have to be done at once. Help! Help!" he yelled.
"Haven't either of you men a revolver?" called Roger.
"By Jove! I never thought of it!" said Mr. Ranquist, suddenly. "Of course I have. But I'm not a very good shot, and, if I was, I'm afraid the small bullets in my gun wouldn't cause his bearship much annoyance. It's only a .22 calibre," he added.
Carefully balancing himself, the young engineer drew the weapon from his pocket. His movement seemed to interest bruin, who left his position under Mr. Dudley's tree, and ambled over to the sapling where Mr. Ranquist was perched, much to the relief of the older prospector.
"I'm going to shoot," said Mr. Ranquist. "I don't know what will happen after it, so look out, every one."
Taking as good aim as he could, Mr. Ranquist fired at the brute. There was no evidence that the bullet hit, so he blazed away again. This was another miss, but the third attempt was more effective, for, with an angry roar, the animal dropped on all fours, and began clawing his snout with his left paw. A few spots of blood showed on the ground.
"You hit him! You hit him!" exclaimed Mr. Dudley, and, in his delight, he tried to caper about on his slender perch, with the result that he nearly tumbled off.