Harry raised his rifle to fire at Bart’s antagonist, whoever he might be, and was about to pull the trigger, even at the risk of hitting the miner, when Frank interrupted him with a cry of:
“Don’t shoot, you might hit Bart.”
“But the robber will kill him.”
“It’s not a robber at all,” suddenly cried Frank, as the two contestants rolled over nearer to the firelight. “It’s a big bear!”
“Give me a knife—quick!” gasped Bart, as he and the bear rolled about. Hastily Frank threw toward him a big hunting weapon. One of the hunter’s arms was free, and he reached out and grabbed the weapon. With a rapid thrust he drove it into the bear’s eye. With a howl of pain the animal raised its paws to caress its injury. At the same instant Frank’s rifle cracked and the animal rolled over, seemingly dead.
“Are you hurt?” asked the boys, rushing forward to Bart.
“No, I don’t think so,” cautiously replied the miner, feeling his ribs. “I feel as if that thar critter had caved me in, though.”
An examination soon showed that Bart was uninjured and the bear quite dead.
“That was a close call,” remarked the miner, wiping his knife. “I guess that must have been what I heard prowling around here early in the evening, although that dead brute there was no more dangerous than that old sharp, Luther Barr.”
“Did you think it was some of his gang attacking you?” asked Billy.