He hardly knew what to do. One thing he was determined on, though, and that was that this boy-wolf would never get the fish from him. What, the fish he had caught himself? The idea.
So he quickly struck with all his might at the wolf, grabbing him as he stumbled. Then the wolf found out how strong Bobby was.
"Please, Mr. Bear, let me go, and I'll never again try to harm you," he called out.
"Will you run right away and never come near me again?" Bobby panted, for he was using all his strength.
"Yes, yes, anything, only let me go," said the little wolf.
With this Bobby let go. The wolf fell to the ground—he was so tired. He lay there a few moments, then with much grunting got on his feet and ran off.
For some time Father Bear had been watching his boy. Very proud indeed was he of what was going on.
Now that all danger was past he rushed over and embraced Bobby. "My boy, how well you fought. You're a credit to Bearland."
Gathering up their fish, they once more started for home.
The battle with the wolves had not taken more than a few minutes, although, as Bobby now told his father, it had seemed a long, long while to him.