He was awakened by Don's voice anxiously calling him.
“Are you hurt much, Hughie? Did he squeeze you?”
Hughie sat up, blinking stupidly.
“What?” he asked. “Who?”
“Why, the bear, of course.”
“The bear? No. Man! It's too bad you weren't here, Don,” he went on, rousing himself. “He can't be gone far.”
“Not very,” said Don, laughing loud. “Yonder he lies.”
Hughie turned his head and gazed, wondering, at the great black mass over which Don's black dogs were standing guard, and sniffing with supreme satisfaction.
Then all came back to him.
“Where's Fido?” he asked, rising. “Yes, it was Fido saved me, for sure. He tackled the bear every time he rushed at me, and hung onto him just as I climbed the tree the second time.”