“This looks like the sort of country he said bears frequented,” was Hardware’s response. “I don’t see why we should be scared to meet one, either.”
“I suppose you’d go right up and say ‘Goodmorning, bear,’” snorted Persimmons.
“Well, we’ve got our rifles, and they are supposed to be powerful enough to bring down any bear, and——”
“Howling hammerheads, what’s the matter now?”
The question was a natural one, for Hardware had stopped short and was staring ahead of them down the steep hillside.
“Why, something’s moving down there. It may be a bear. Get your rifle ready.”
Hardware’s face took on a determined expression and he looked to the mechanism of his rifle and slipped a magazine into place. Persimmons did the same, muttering to himself as he did so that it was no use fighting a bear, and that they’d better give Bruin a wide berth.
But the next instant their anxiety was relieved and gave place to high good humor. The object Hardware had spied moving among the rocks and brambles was not a grizzly, but the recreant White-eye, cropping the grass as he moved about.
Suddenly he looked up and saw the boys. With upraised head and pricked ears he watched their advance.