"H-h-he's g-g-gone!" yelped Toby, who could see better than any of the others, because no little puff of white powder smoke obscured his vision.
A tremendous thrashing in the water told them that the wounded bear must have toppled over into the partly frozen pond.
"Look out for him!" cried Max.
He had ejected the used cartridge from his magazine rifle with one quick motion. Another sent a fresh one into the firing chamber.
Steve had drawn back the second hammer of his gun, and in this fashion then the two chums advanced straight toward the spot where they had last seen the bear.
Bandy-legs, more cautious, kept farther off, though he, too, aimed to reach the border of the little lake, in order to see what was going on.
"Got him!" whooped Steve, when he discovered that the bear was evidently fatally wounded, and fell back into the water every time he tried to climb the bank.
It was Max who thought to mercifully put an end to the stricken beast's sufferings by another well-directed shot from his rifle.
The bear was now dead. Even Toby put in his claim to a partnership in bringing about its demise. The right of first discovery rested with him, and he was ready to take up a defense of his claim at any time.
So, in order to avoid all bad feelings, and insure peace in the family hereafter, Max declared that the honor should be jointly shared by tie whole four of them.