“A first-rate shot that was!” said the boy.
Carington made no reply. Then, glancing at the bear: “Poor old mother!” he said. “A sucking bear! I am sorry I had to kill you.”
“You’ll send for me soon?” said Jack.
Carington again failed to reply.
“Isn’t there room in your boat?”
“Not for you.” He was very angry. Jack sat down with his troublesome captive, feeling that he had been sharply snubbed; and the canoe fled away in the track of Rose’s boat. As he passed her, Carington cried out:
“Are you all right?”
“Yes, thank you!”
“Well, don’t talk.” And his birch went by at speed, he himself taking a third paddle to gain time.
“By George! My little comedy came near to a tragic ending. How Ellett will rate me! What a mess!” And he considered a moment his bloody knickerbockers and stained stockings.