His father smiled and answered, "You have done well, Henrik. I am proud of you."
This was said as the boys sat around the fire in the log hut that night. As soon as they were sure the bear was really dead, they had hurried on to the camp, which was only a short distance away. Then, as soon as they had told of their luck, the men went back with them to skin the bear and cut up and bring in the meat. They brought it to the camp on a rough sledge.
"He is a beauty," exclaimed one of the men, as he looked at the bear.
"And as big a one as I ever set eyes on," said the other. "I don't see how you ever dared to tackle him, Henrik. I should have hesitated for a moment, myself."
It was so late in the day when they all got back to the camp that father said:
"Boys, you had better stay all night, unless you think your mother will worry about you."
"We told her we might not come home to-day," said Ole. "It is such a long tramp, she said we had better not try, for we would get too tired. So it is all right."
How good the bear steak looked when it was set on the rough supper-table. It was smoked a good deal,—that was certain; but no one spoke or even thought of that. And the table was not elegant, for there was no cloth to cover the rough pine boards. But the fresh cheese, the kind mother had sent, the hard brown bread baked by the men, with plenty of bear steak and a bowl of steaming coffee, made a supper "fit for a king," as the boys declared when they could eat no more.