A streak of fire and a heavy report startled her. Then she heard the bullet hit. Shifting her glance, she saw the bear lurch with convulsive action, rearing on his hind legs. Loud clicking snaps must have been a clashing of his jaws in rage. But there was no other sound. Then again Dale's heavy gun boomed. Helen heard again that singular spatting thud of striking lead. The bear went down with a flop as if he had been dealt a terrific blow. But just as quickly he was up on all-fours and began to whirl with hoarse, savage bawls of agony and fury. His action quickly carried him out of the moonlight into the shadow, where he disappeared. There the bawls gave place to gnashing snarls, and crashings in the brush, and snapping of branches, as he made his way into the forest.
“Sure he's mad,” said Dale, rising to his feet. “An' I reckon hard hit. But I won't follow him to-night.”
Both the girls got up, and Helen found she was shaky on her feet and very cold.
“Oh-h, wasn't—it—won-wonder-ful!” cried Bo.
“Are you scared? Your teeth are chatterin',” queried Dale.
“I'm—cold.”
“Well, it sure is cold, all right,” he responded. “Now the fun's over, you'll feel it.... Nell, you're froze, too?”
Helen nodded. She was, indeed, as cold as she had ever been before. But that did not prevent a strange warmness along her veins and a quickened pulse, the cause of which she did not conjecture.
“Let's rustle,” said Dale, and led the way out of the wood and skirted its edge around to the slope. There they climbed to the flat, and went through the straggling line of trees to where the horses were tethered.
Up here the wind began to blow, not hard through the forest, but still strong and steady out in the open, and bitterly cold. Dale helped Bo to mount, and then Helen.