He had drawn his long hunting-knife and was slashing at the brutes, but it was a moral certainty that he would have been soon overpowered had it not been for the opportune coming of Pomp.
The darky rushed up at this moment and cried:
“Jes’ yo’ hol’ on, Marse Frank. I’se here, an’ I’se gwine to sabe yo’.”
Placing his elephant rifle close against the body of one of the bears Pomp pulled the trigger. The effect was fatal.
The brute’s vitals were literally destroyed, and it sank dying upon the snow. The other bear Frank quickly finished with his knife.
Then the two victorious hunters went to the rescue of Professor Gaston.
This sole remaining bear was easily dispatched and the battle was over.
Beyond a few scratches and cuts the party was uninjured. But all realized what good reason there was for self-congratulation.
“By Jove!” cried Frank. “Six bears to three men! That is the biggest luck for one day’s hunting that I have ever seen.”
“If we had been hunting for such game we could never have found it in such numbers,” declared Professor Gaston.