"You promised me, Bob, please remember!" cried Sandy.
With his face bleeding from the scratches he had received in his fall, Sandy must certainly have presented a strange appearance just then; but the spirit of the hunter rose superior to any and all discomforts. That bear was his by rights, and he did not mean to be cheated out of his triumph.
Down came Bruin, looking over his shoulder as he dropped, and probably measuring the capacity of these two foes. But he failed to figure on the terrible power that lay in the odd looking stick one of them pointed up at him.
There was a sudden flash, a stunning report, for Bob in his nervousness had overcharged his gun, and while Sandy fell back with a bruised shoulder, the bear dropped like a stone at the foot of the tree. Sandy had clapped the muzzle of the musket close to the animal's ear when pulling the trigger, so that the result was never in doubt.
"Whew!" he exclaimed, as he scrambled to his feet, still clutching Bob's gun. "Did you empty your powder-horn in that charge, Bob? I'll be black and blue for a month after that recoil. But I got him, didn't I? He'll never have a chance to chase a fellow up a tree again. And, Bob, we're going to have that bear steak all right to-morrow, I reckon."
Which they did, sure enough, though, as Bruin was no youngster, it probably required pretty sharp teeth to enjoy the meal.
CHAPTER VI
SERIOUS NEWS
It was just three days after the strange bear hunt that the boys, on returning from a little trip to see what their traps might contain thus early in the season, found that the home circle had been widened by the coming of the Irish trapper, Pat O'Mara.