“Oh, if I only had a rifle here!” said Paul.
“A dynamite bomb would be good enough for me,” growled Walter.
“Haven’t we anything on board we can soak him with?” groaned Jack.
“Nothing much, except some loose bolts and nuts in the locker,” answered Cora, “and they wouldn’t do any good, except perhaps to aggravate him.”
“It might get his mind off the rest of the lunch, anyway,” replied her brother. “Let’s get a handful, fellows, and bombard the old brigand.”
They were all smarting for revenge, and they equipped themselves with the missiles and began to throw. Several of them hit the bear, but he paid no attention.
“We’re too far off,” said Walter. “The force of the bolts is spent before they get to him. Back up a little closer to the shore, Jack, and we’ll have a better chance.”
“Do you think we’d better?” asked Belle. “He might get stirred up and come after us. Bears are good swimmers, you know.”
“He couldn’t catch a motor boat in a thousand years,” replied Jack. “If it were a rowboat now, it might be different.”
He backed up until the boat was within ten feet of the shore. Walter threw a bolt with such accurate aim that it caught the bear right on the end of his nose.