But at least the rifle had served one good purpose—for in that small interval of time Roy had reached the ledge. He jumped upward, careless of consequences, and felt his finger close over the root of a tree. Straining every muscle, he gradually drew himself up—higher—higher—and, with a gasp of thankfulness, he sank down upon the rock.
Then, bracing himself, he stretched his arms over the edge toward Teddy. The boy seized his brother’s hands, and, grunting with exertion, succeeded in gaining the shelf just as the bear reached the spot where he had stood but a moment before.
“Leaping lizards!” Teddy panted. “That was some close! Hey, listen to that geezer grunt! Golly, I—”
“I’ll tell a maverick it was close!” Roy gasped. “Another second and you’d have been mince-meat! I told you we shouldn’t have followed those tracks. If we had had a decent rifle—”
“You told me! Well, for the love of Pete! And you were the one who wanted to do all this bear hunting! Great snakes! How do you get that way? Wow! Listen to our friend! He won’t be able to talk to-morrow!”
Below them the bear was uttering dire threats against their safety and was trying desperately to reach the ledge by jumping. Every time he sprang the boys heard the “scra-a-a-ape” of his claws over the rock.
Teddy shook his head.
“Baby,” he remarked, “I sure hope he gets discouraged easily! If he ever manages to pull himself up here—good-night!”
Cautiously Roy leaned over.
“He’s still at it. Thank goodness this shelf is narrow. But the point is, how are we going to get down? It’s a cinch we can’t climb up that cliff.” He motioned with his thumb to the wall back of them, which rose straight up. “As long as the old boy wants to hang around, we’re his guests,” he finished grimly.