Immediately he started to turn the film so as to bring around a new and unexposed section. His fingers were quivering with eagerness and nervousness, so that he could hardly hold the camera.
“Steady, Andy; brace up, and take your time!” said Frank, who gave his chum one quick glance to see how near he was to getting in a second snapshot before he and Mr. Witherspoon started to firing.
That seemed to bring Andy to his senses, and the next moment he managed to get his second shot at the bear.
By this time the animal had discovered the running Buckskin, and immediately started in hot pursuit, as if recognizing the human agency that had made his eyes smart so with that pungent smoke; there was now no longer any trouble about arousing the bear’s fury; and Frank realized just why Buckskin, wise fellow that he was, had lost not a second about getting started, when he knew the bear was coming.
He cast one glance over his shoulder as he reached the end of the little log. Discovering the grizzly shuffling along swiftly in his wake, snorting with anger, the cowboy immediately started across the rude bridge. Once he slipped, and for a second or two it looked as though he would drop down twenty feet or more into the gully; but by a desperate effort Buckskin managed to climb up again, and mostly on hands and knees completed the passage.
The bear was still coming on, apparently in no wise daunted by the hot fire that was being poured into him by Frank and Mr. Witherspoon. Every shot Frank took he fully expected to see the huge beast go tumbling over; but in spite of all, the bear kept rushing after Buckskin. Andy was still working his kodak and taking more pictures.
Just as soon as the cowboy managed to crawl upon solid rock he started to dislodge the log. It proved a little more difficult than had been expected. Three times did Buckskin make the effort, and only succeeded in moving the end a few inches on every occasion.
With the bear still coming on, as though capable of standing a hurricane of lead, it began to look serious enough. Should he ever succeed in crossing that log what might not happen to the hunters? Frank felt a cold chill creep over him as he contemplated such a possibility, and realized that the magazine in his Marlin heavy-bore was getting low.
Well, Andy came to the rescue just in time. Dropping his kodak, he sprang to the side of the panting Buckskin.
“Now, together!” he exclaimed, as he took hold of the end of the log.