An hour later, his eye was caught by motion down the valley. Coming out of the semi-doze into which he had fallen, he looked sharply at it and gasped. A bear, not a monstrous creature but no cub—it weighed perhaps 250 pounds—was coming through the beech brush. It was about two hundred yards down the valley and halfway up the other slope, and it was not in the slightest hurry. It stopped to sniff at some interesting thing it discovered and turned to retrace its steps a few yards. Then it came on.
Ted groaned inwardly. A rifleman posted here could have an easy shot—and Alex Jackson had sat here idly for six days! The bear came on for another sixty yards, lay down beside a huge boulder and prepared itself for a nap.
Ted crawled away. Bears have a remarkable sense of scent and good hearing, but very weak eyes. This one couldn't see him. If it smelled him, it certainly would not be where it was. If he was very careful, it might not hear him. As soon as Ted thought he was far enough from the valley's rim, he rose and ran back to where he'd left Paul Jackson.
That alert youngster heard him coming and had his rifle ready, but its muzzle was pointed at the ground. Paul Jackson lacked experience, but not sense. He wasn't going to shoot at anything until he knew what was in front of his rifle.
Ted came close and whispered, "Come on! I've got one spotted!"
"You have?"
"Take it easy and quiet! He won't be there if you don't!"
Nearing the valley's rim, Ted dropped back to a crawl. He peered at the boulder and breathed easily again; the bear had not moved. He put his mouth very close to Paul Jackson's ear.
"There he is!"
"Where?"