I was afraid of calling to them, for fear of frightening the bear; so, taking my gun in one hand and the torch in the other, I crept forward in the direction in which I had seen the animal. Again I caught sight of him attempting to climb up the palisade.
I advanced a few steps. Whether or not he saw me I could not tell. Marking well the spot, I dropped my torch, and raising my gun to my shoulder, fired.
By the faint light of the almost expiring torch I saw a huge body fall.
The report of the gun of course quickly brought out the rest of the party, when, all of us hurrying forward, to our infinite satisfaction we saw the bear on the ground struggling to get up. My bullet had missed his head, but broken his shoulder. Alick and Martin immediately fired, and the bear’s struggles ceased.
“Be aisy, gintlemen; he may not be dead afther all,” cried Pat, advancing cautiously with his torch.
I reloaded my gun, in case Pat should be right in his conjecture; but the bear gave no signs of life, and getting up to him we found that he was quite dead.
We lost no time in skinning him, and as soon as we had done so Martin cut a few choice pieces out of the carcass, and hastened back with them to the fire, while we finished the operation. He was a young animal, less active or sagacious than his companions.
We at once carried the meat and skin into the house, where Martin had some steaks ready for us. We lay down after supper with thankful hearts that a supply of meat had been so providentially sent to us.
Bouncer had his share, and then composed himself to sleep near the door, with one eye open ready to warn us of the approach of danger.
Feeling sure that no unfriendly Indians were likely to be in the neighbourhood at that season of the year, we passed the night with a feeling of perfect security.