Dick barked furiously. Bell advanced to within twenty feet and fired, but the animal did not seem to be touched. Johnson advanced in his turn, and after taking a careful aim, pulled the trigger.
"What," cried the doctor, "not touched yet? Why, it's that cursed refraction. The bear is at least a thousand paces off."
The three sportsmen ran rapidly towards the animal, whom the firing had not disturbed; he seemed to be enormous, and without calculating the dangers of the attack, they began to rejoice in their conquest. Arrived within reasonable distance they fired again; the bear, mortally wounded, gave a great jump and fell at the foot of the mound. Dick threw himself upon it.
"That bear wasn't difficult to kill," said the doctor.
"Only three shots," added Bell in a tone of disdain, "and he's down."
"It's very singular," said Johnson.
"Unless we arrived at the very moment when it was dying of old age," said the doctor, laughing.
So speaking, the sportsmen reached the foot of the mound, and, to their great stupefaction, they found Dick with his fangs in the body of a white fox.
"Well, I never!" cried Bell.
"We kill a bear and a fox falls," added the doctor.