“But how? Can you suggest a way? Look up above.”
Peering over the top of the hole, which was some twenty feet above them, was a shaggy head. As he gazed over into the hole down which his prey had so unexpectedly vanished, the bear gave a growl and shook his great head, while his red jaws slavered and dripped.
“Well, this hole in the ground, or cave, or whatever it is, saved us from that bear at any rate,” declared Persimmons.
“Yes; but it looks as if we had got out of the frying pan into the fire,” retorted his companion disgustedly. “Why didn’t we think to use our rifles? We’re a fine pair of hunters, we are.”
“We couldn’t have used them, anyhow,” was Persimmons’ response.
“Why not?”
“Because, like Mazeppa, we were hitched to a fiery steed, only we trailed along instead of being on his back. Poor beast, he must have been killed instantly by his tumble.”
“I guess so. His head is doubled under his body. His neck must have been broken.”
“Well, this is a fine end to our horse hunt. I guess we’ll have to wait here till they come along and find us.”