He compromised matters by darting aside and snatching up his rifle; an act that caught the eye of Ethan Allen, and was instantly copied by that wideawake individual.
“Help! make him let up chasing after me!” shouted Lub, as well as he was able, considering the fact that he kept slipping and rolling over, only to scramble wildly to his feet, and start off once more in his clumsy fashion.
“Let him have the fish you’re dragging after you!” shouted Phil, even as he began to move out on the ice, with the other two at his heels.
“I can’t! Line’s got fast to my leg; and he ate up all the others anyway!” Lub called back, as he waddled along with frantic zeal.
“Turn to the left so you’ll be out of range when we shoot!” bellowed Phil.
Apparently the fugitive heard this, and also understood, for they could see that he was doing his best to obey; though the slippery ice did play all manner of tricks with those uncertain “pins” of his, causing him many a frantic struggle.
As he ran Lub could not keep from “rubbering” as Ethan called it. He would twist his fat neck around in order to learn just how close his hairy pursuer chanced to be at the moment. This helped to make his flight more uncertain, and brought about his downfall several times.
As Phil and Ethan were much more surefooted than the stout boy, and not at all frightened, they made better progress. On this account they gained continually, so that when Lub had managed to sheer off, and presented his left side to them, they were really close enough to make sure of the bear.
“Ready, Ethan?” called out Phil.
“Yes!” came the reply, as both of them suddenly stopped short.