Blinding flash, deafening blast, stinking smoke.
And the bear kept coming.
It was so close, the lead balls must have gone into it. It must be just so damned big it would take more than two shots to kill it.
But there was no time to reload. The bear towered over him, white body filling the whole world, eyes, claws, teeth, all shining in the glow of that pitiful little candle that somehow had stayed lit.
He screamed and sobbed like a little boy in his terror, but he managed to get his Bowie knife out. He'd killed a big Indian with this knife.
A paw the size of his head knocked the knife from his hand.
"Oh, please don't kill me!" he wept. "For the love of Jesus!"
The other paw hit his chest like a sledgehammer. He felt his ribs cave in. He felt the claws stab into his lungs.
His breath flew from his body. His strength drained away. He couldn't scream anymore. He couldn't beg for his life. His voice was gone. Only blood came out of his throat. The last thing he saw was an enormous mouth gaping, full of yellow-white pointed teeth coming at him. He felt claws rip again through his chest and belly and knew that he was going.