Ignoring this last thrust from Steve as something beneath his notice, Bandy-legs saw to it that the hammer of the repeating rifle was drawn back.
"Where'll I stand, Uncle Jim?" he demanded, trying to appear quite cool; but the experienced old trapper knew very well how he was secretly quivering all over.
"Here, drop down behind this rock and rest your rifle on it," he said. "Now, wait till I say the word, and then press the trigger. Aim just back of the foreleg, because you're more apt to reach his heart there."
"What if I don't kill him?" asked Bandy-legs, with a big sigh.
"Clap another shell in and give it to him. Reckon you know how to work the trombone action, don't you?" the trapper went on to say.
"Sure I do," answered the Nimrod, lowering his cheek to the stock of the gun.
"Remember, now, and don't shut your eyes, Bandy-legs!" advised Steve.
"Let up on that, Steve," remarked Max, who was greatly interested in seeing the novice get a square deal.
Half a minute of waiting followed. The dogs continued to jump and bark, and the bear, made savage by his pain, tugged at his chain and growled.
"Shoot!" said Trapper Jim, suddenly.