The Pioneer Boys on the Great Lakes; or, On the Trail of the Iroquois

by St. George Rathborne

Of course nothing but a clumsy bear could be guilty of such an advance, caution being thrown to the four winds because of that tantalizing odor of honey in the heavy night air,—an odor which was making Bruin fairly wild with eagerness to be at the anticipated feast.

A panther would have crept slily forward, so that not even the rustle of a leaf might betray its presence, and even a buffalo would have advanced with a certain amount of caution; but a bear depends on its sense of smell to give warning of danger, and seldom moves with any degree of care.

Presently Sandy could hear him sniffling at a great rate as he pushed closer. The animal evidently could not understand why there should be such a pronounced odor of honey in the air. Many times had he come to this same spot in the hope of being able to bag some of the bees' store; but always to meet disappointment. But now there must be a great change in the arrangement of things.

Somewhere amid the foliage covering the bushes across the glade the big beast must have stopped, to look in surprise at the fallen bee tree. Perhaps he suspected a trap of some kind, knowing that his mortal enemy, man, had been there lately. But that distracting smell drowned all his caution. Unable to hold out against it any longer, the bear suddenly lumbered forward.

Sandy saw him coming, but held his fire. In the first place the bear was head on, and he wanted to get a chance at the animal's flank, so that he might make sure to plant his bullet back of the shoulder, where he could reach the heart, and so bring his game down with that one shot. Then again, it chanced that there was something of a shadow, which served to partly hide the beast as he advanced.

Straight into the midst of the broken honeycombs did Bruin hasten, grunting in evident delight as he commenced to lick up the spilled sweet fluid, so dear to the heart of every bear.

Sandy managed to repress his excitement to a great extent. He had been hunting so often, boy though he was, that he no longer experienced the same intense thrill that would have almost overwhelmed him a couple of years ago, had he been thrown into such a position as this.

Slowly his cheek dropped down until it rested against the butt of his faithful old musket. Well did he know that the priming was in the pan, and that, when the flint struck the steel sharply, the spark would communicate to the charge, with the result that the bear must be considerably astonished.

Unfortunately, however, Sandy could not see in that deceptive moonlight that a fair-sized twig happened to be just between the muzzle of his gun and the object at which he aimed. Had it been daytime he would have detected this fact, and avoided taking the chances of his bullet being slightly deflected in its swift passage.

The report of the gun was deafening. With his usual impulsiveness Sandy instantly leaped to his feet, giving a boyish shout as he saw the bear kicking on the ground, in the midst of the branches of the fallen tree.