At length the axes broke through the wood and the dark interior lay open. They had cut in the right place, for the den of the bear was found directly under, but no bear! Poles were inserted at both openings, but no bear could be felt either way. The hollow ran up no farther, so after all there was no bear in the log.
There were some disappointed faces about—and some rather rough ejaculations were heard. I might say that Ike “cussed a few,” and that would be no more than the truth. The old trapper seemed to be ashamed of being so taken in, particularly as he had somewhat exultingly announced that the “bar was treed.”
“He must have got off before we surrounded,” said one.
“Are you sure he came into the timber?” asked another—“that fool, Lanty, was so scared, he could hardly tell where the animal went.”
“Be me soul! gintlemen, I saw him go in wid my own eyes, Oil swear—”
“Cussed queer!” spitefully remarked Redwood.
“Damn the bar!” ejaculated Ike, “whur kid the varmint a gone?”
Where was A—? All eyes were turned to look for the hunter-naturalist, as if he could clear up the mystery. He was nowhere to be seen. He had not been seen for some time!
At that moment, the clear sharp ring of a rifle echoed in our ears. There was a moment’s silence, and the next moment a loud “thump” was heard, as of a heavy body falling from a great height to the ground. The noise startled even our tired horses, and some of them broke their ties and scampered off.
“This way, gentlemen!” said a quiet voice, “here’s the bear!”