The fierce beast, in anger at the sight of his enemies, was coming toward the men and boys at top speed. On the first alarm Bill and Tom had turned to flee. Andy, swinging his gun by the muzzle, and loosening a long hunting knife in his belt, awaited the bear's onslaught. Mark and Jack were too surprised to run, and stood their ground, not knowing what to do.
"Run away!" shouted Andy. "I'll tackle the beast! I'm not afraid!"
"We're not going to leave you!" yelled Jack. "I have a revolver!"
Quickly he drew out the small weapon, a present from the inventor. Taking hasty aim he fired several shots, but his aim was poor. One bullet struck the bear on the nose, and, instead of stopping the beast, only made him the more angry.
The brute was now but fifty feet away and coming on at a rapid pace over the uneven lumps of ice and snow.
"Run, I tell you!" called Andy. "Do you boys want to be killed?"
He aimed a furious stroke at the bear, but as he did so his foot slipped and he came down heavily on the ice. Mark and Jack uttered cries of terror and fright.
With blood dripping from his wounds, foam falling from his red jaws, and with every appearance of rage, the maddened beast rushed on the old hunter.
"He'll be killed!" yelled Mark.
"If I only had a gun!" groaned Jack.