Of course it would prove a fatal error of judgment for the animal, but what was Bruin's loss might be Bob's gain.
Already his head and shoulders had issued from the hole, and he was surging forward, intent on one thing, which was to quit his quarters as speedily as his huge bulk would permit it.
Bob swung himself half way around the trunk of the tree. He found it rather difficult to hang on, but, being tenacious by nature, and a good climber, he clung desperately to what stubs of branches he found there.
Would the beast follow after him, bent on making an attack on the bold two-legged enemy that had ventured to brazenly face him at the mouth of his private castle?
Bob had little fear of this. He believed the bear was too much alarmed by the unusual spectacle of the woods afire, and was seized with the same sort of panic that had sent buffalo, stags, wolves, foxes and even a gray panther bounding along to leeward as fast as their muscles could drive them.
He knew when Bruin had managed to drag his entire bulk out from the enclosure, for the scene was by this time as well lighted up as though the sun shone through the eddying smoke clouds, only it was a red, angry glare, peculiarly terrifying.
Yes, thank goodness, the beast was scurrying down the trunk of the old tree as fast as he possibly could. Fright urged him on, and Bob could not help adding to the situation by giving a shrill whoop.
"Thank you, sir; with your leave I will tumble into your late berth," he exclaimed, as he struggled to pass around the stump again, in order to reach the opening.
Short as was the time consumed in doing this, when he reached the gap in the trunk the bear had already tumbled to the ground. Bob heard the beast give utterance to a subdued roar, as though some of the flying leaves that were afire might have alighted on his hairy hide; then the black beast galloped madly off, heading in a direct line away from the approaching fire.
But well did Bob know that, unless Bruin had some near-by cave in mind when he thus scampered off, the chances were ten to one he would roast in the conflagration, since he could never hope to outstrip its onward rush.