Roger did not understand what these words meant until they had come to the wide trunk of the oak and he discovered many scratches there, indicating that some wild animal must have its sleeping quarters in the hollow above.
“A bear’s den, Dick!” he ejaculated, looking at his companion doubtfully.
“Yes, I guessed as much,” answered the other, “when I saw tracks over yonder. But let’s hope the old fellow happens to be away just now. I wouldn’t take the risk did not those black clouds look so threatening.”
“Shall we climb up, then?” asked the other, ready to accept any risk, in his headstrong way.
“Yes, come on, Roger; but keep your gun ready for business,” replied Dick.
It was always a matter of some concern to the early pioneers, this keeping their rifles or muskets in condition for immediate use. The powder was apt to be shaken from the pan, or the flint in the hammer dislodged just enough to keep it from striking fairly, and sending out the important spark, which was absolutely necessary in order that the weapon be discharged. And hence, under the most intense excitement, hunters were wont to keep a watchful eye upon their guns in order that they might not fail.
Both boys scrambled up the tree. The limbs were low, and fashioned just right for a quick ascent, and, as the hole which had caught the eye of Roger was not more than twenty feet from the ground, they were beside it in an exceedingly short space of time.
But it might be noticed that neither seemed in any great haste to enter the gaping aperture that frowned so darkly before them. They could easily tell that it was a bear’s den from the odor that greeted them, such as may always be detected where wild animals have their lodging; but even stout-hearted Roger would have braved the wrath of the coming deluge rather than drop down upon a savage bear.
“Do you think he’s in, right now, Dick?” he questioned.