The two reports sounded almost as one. Lub gave another squeal as though his nerves were strained to the limit; but when on casting one of his apprehensive looks over his shoulder he saw his tormentor struggling there on the ice as though he had received his death hurt, the fat boy’s humor changed.
“Give him some more, fellows!” he shrieked. “The glutton! to devour all my fine fish. We’ll make it up by feasting on bear steak to-night, then; that’s the only way to get even. Oh! he’s getting up again, and he’s got it in for me because I said that. Shoot him once more, Phil!”
“It’s no use, because he’s done for,” Phil told him, for the bear after that expiring effort had fallen back again, and given his last kick.
When Lub made sure of this, and saw that his chums were all gathered about the fallen animal, he summoned up enough courage to join the circle.
“How did it happen, Lub?” asked X-Ray, who had now joined the rest.
The stout chum rubbed his chin, and shrugged his plump shoulders.
“Gee! but he did give me a terrible shock!” he remarked, as though once more passing through the dreadful experience of the surprise.
“Tell us about it,” urged Ethan; “and how did it come you let him eat up all your fish without giving the alarm?”
“Well, this is about the way it happened,” Lub began. “My back was turned on the pile of fish for I was fighting with the gamiest one of the lot, this husky muscalonge here, the only real decent one that’s left,” and he mournfully surveyed the still flopping fish that he had been dragging after him all the while.
“Yes, go on, what happened then?” continued the eager X-Ray.