“Probably I couldn’t do it again.”
“You got him, though, and that’s what counts.”
“How much do you suppose he weighs?” asked Phil.
“Can’t tell exactly—about five hundred, I should think.”
“Guess I won’t have something to write home about, what?” cried Ted, and again the boys examined the black monster until they were called away by their companion.
“I don’t blame you for being proud of him. I had my first bear stuffed and sent home. But we can’t stay here all night. We’ve got to move,” cried Andy, who had been picking up their kits while the boys were admiring the prize.
“Move, at this hour?” exclaimed Phil, in amazement. “We can’t leave our hut.”
“That’s what. The horses are beginning to tread again, they smell the blood, and they wouldn’t give us a minute’s rest all night. But we won’t go far, just fifteen or twenty rods to leeward.”
Taking only the blankets, saddles, and firearms, they quickly found another suitable place close at hand where the wind would blow the scent away from them, and when they had lighted another fire they returned for the horses, which they finally managed to lead around the bear.
After about an hour they had calmed their mounts, and again they rolled up in their blankets, falling into a sleep from which nothing aroused them.