A single look upward showed Tom this, and also that the bear was already commencing to edge cautiously backward, moving one foot gingerly at a time, just as Tom had seen a domestic cat do when after a sparrow in a tree.
Undoubtedly that must have been the strangest way in which Tom Tucker ever came down a tree; just as the ascension of Felix had shattered all records. While his movements were certainly pretty rapid, he managed to carry himself so dextrously that, save for a number of small scratches, mostly along his wrists that did not count for anything, he presently reached the ground, none the worse for his remarkable experience.
By this time Bruin had succeeded in backing along the limb, and reaching the body of the tree, down which he commenced to pass, with an eye to business. Hence, Tom knew that he had no time to waste, if he meant to hold the advantage that his slide had given him.
Three bounds took him over to where his rifle lay, and snatching this weapon up, he was quickly back again at the base of the tree. After that it was just a picnic—that is, for Tom; what the bear thought no one ever bothered trying to find out.
The boy even felt a little compassion for the poor beast that was so rudely disturbed in the very beginning of his long winter nap, by having his house take fire; and upon crawling hastily forth, had the double aggravation of finding himself laughed at by a cruel two-legged foe; and when he sought to punish such liberties it would be to have a queer stick poked at his head, and hear a terrible bang that ended his earthly career.
But to tell the truth it was bear steaks that animated Tom now; for he realized that as a piece of marketable fur that sadly singed hide of Bruin would not pay for the trouble of taking it off.
He believed that the bear was both fat and rather young, and these considerations outweighed any compunction he might feel, as the animal kept coming closer to him.
Several times the bear stopped to look down at the human enemy waiting so confidently for him below; and it would seem as though some intuition must have warned Bruin that he could expect nothing less than trouble from that source; but to descend seemed to be the only thing left him, since his late den was now burning in a way that promised the complete destruction of the tree in due time.
And so the beast again started downward, growling ferociously; but now more in the expectation that such fierceness might frighten the hunter away from his post, than because of a genuine desire to come into contact with him.
However, Tom did not mean to take any unnecessary chances; he had never fought a "singed" bear, and hence could not say just how vindictive such an animal might turn out to be. So when Bruin was just about down Tom thrust out his gun until the muzzle almost touched the beast's small head, close to his ear; when he pulled trigger, and there was one less live bear in that neck of the woods.