WHAT BLUFF DID
"Why, it's a bear!" exclaimed Jerry, as the three boys came to a standstill on the border of the camp.
"It sure is, and nothing less," admitted Frank, his face beginning to pucker up with the advance stages of a laugh.
"Oh! if I can only get my camera on him—what glorious luck!" breathed Will, as his trembling fingers worked to drag the little black box out of its cover.
The bear was busy just then, in fact, exceedingly engaged. He had taken to turning things over around the fire just as though some one had given him a sheriff's search warrant, and he meant to use it to the limit.
"He's hungry, all right; look at him getting away with the corn Uncle Toby was just going to cook for supper. Say, that must be the same old critter I interviewed while I was caged in that tree," said Jerry, tickled at the thought.
"What makes you think so?" demanded Frank.
"He's so curious and so persistent, you see. Besides, I don't believe there's another bear within ten miles of here. Oh! it's my old friend, you just bet. And that means I ought to have the privilege of slaying him."
"Don't be piggish, Jerry. Let some of the rest of us do something or other," remarked Frank, with a touch of satire in his voice.
He had his own gun handy, and meant to have a share in getting a supply of bear meat for the camp larder.