Bang! went the heavy charge which was in Sandy's flint-lock musket. The bear immediately fell in a heap on the ground. Bob stood there, ready to add the finishing touch if absolutely necessary; but among hunters it is always understood that there shall be no interference at such times unless positively needed; and the game had been placed in Sandy's hands.
And in this case there was no need, for the bear, after making a desperate attempt to struggle to his feet, dropped, and lay still; whereupon Sandy and the good-natured Irish trapper united in a cheer that made the woods ring again and again.
"Afther all, it is Sandy's pelt, and it's glad I am he had the good sinse to sind his bullet back av the forelig instid av liftin' the baste's hid," declared the man who had been rescued from the tree.
"But how comes it that we found you in such a queer scrape, Pat?" asked Bob, with a twinkle in his eye; for he knew very well something must have gone amiss, or the usually clever woodsman would not have found himself in so sore a strait.
"Arrah! it's ashamed I am to till yees, me byes; but sure thot was a time Patsy found himself up the wrong tree," admitted the other, who was so good-natured that he could even laugh at a joke on himself.
"And not much of a tree at that, I should say," remarked Sandy dryly, as he surveyed the stump which had been the scene of the trapper's adventure. "Seems to me, Pat, that if I wanted to climb a tree, and fight it out with a bear, I would pick a bigger one than this rotten old thing."
"Oh! ye wud, eh? Phat if the bear was so clost till yer heels that ye had to shin up anything at all?" objected Pat, with a comical grin.
"Well, in that case no one could blame you," returned Bob. "Tell us how it came you failed to kill the beast when you fired."
"Sure, and ye are mistaken, Bob; niver a shot did I take at the ould beggar," said the other, positively.