At least this would give the fugitive a little time, and perhaps, meanwhile, he, Bob, could come on the scene with his gun, ready to take a hand in the game.
"Hi! Bob, this way!" Sandy was shouting, at the top of his voice, as though his situation was rapidly becoming desperate.
"All right!" answered the one who was pushing along through the brush as best he could. "I'm coming, Sandy! Hold on a little longer!"
A minute or so later he found himself on the scene. Just as he had guessed, Sandy, being hotly pursued, and fearing lest he be overtaken by the angry beast, had on the spur of the moment clambered hastily into the branches of a tree. It was the result of sudden impulse, for surely the boy knew that an American black bear is always at home wherever he can dig his sharp claws into the bark of a tree.
Perhaps Sandy would never fully realize how he came to escape the animal's last rush; but it must have been almost by a miracle. Once among the branches, the boy did not stop an instant. The bear immediately showed an inclination to follow him aloft, and Sandy hardly cared to try conclusions with Bruin in his present winded condition, and with only his hatchet to depend on.
So he had hastily climbed upward. Looking down, he had been dismayed to see that the bear was making quick progress after him. He could hardly go to the top of the tree, and, as a possibility leaped into his mind, the boy started out on a large limb that was some twenty feet or so above the ground.
"THE BEAR ALL THE WHILE KEPT ON CREEPING OUT CLOSER AND CLOSER"
Bruin did not hesitate a moment when he reached this limb, but started out after the young hunter. It was at that moment Sandy had sent out his appeal for help. He realized that he was in a bad fix, since the bear would either follow until he could reach his intended victim with his sharp claws; or else the combined weight of the two must break the limb, sending both to the ground.