It needed Doc's praise to
make him feel fully satisfied with his deed.
"It was a crack shot, boy," said the doctor proudly. "And I guess the
farmer at the next settlement will feel like giving you a medal for it.
Old Bruin has only got what he gave to every creature he could master."
There being no tree conveniently near to which they could string up the
dead bear, the guides decided to leave the ugly matter of skinning and
dissecting him for morning light. The excited party returned to camp,
but not to sleep. They built up their scattered fire, squatted round it,
and discoursed of the night's adventure until a clear dawn-gleam
brightened the eastern sky. Then Uncle Eb and Joe started out again
across the _brulee_. They reappeared before breakfast-time, bringing
Bruin's skin and a goodly portion of his meat.
Joe laid the hide at Neal's feet.
"There, boy," he said, "the skin is yours. It belongs rightly to the man
who killed the bear; and I guess the brute wasn't mortally hurt at all
till your bullet nipped him in the neck."
"But what about the fifteen dollars from that New York man, Joe? You'll
lose it," faltered young Farrar, with a triumphant heart-leap at the
thought of taking this trophy back to England, but loath to profit by
the woodsman's generosity.
Pages:
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172