It hurt so that the boy could not
keep the tears back, but he did not cry out or say a word.
"Very well, then," said Father Bear, raising his paw very slowly, hoping
that the boy would give in at the last moment.
But just then the boy heard something click very close to them, and saw
the muzzle of a rifle two paces away. Both he and Father Bear had been
so engrossed in their own affairs they had not observed that a man had
stolen right upon them.
"Father Bear! Don't you hear the clicking of a trigger?" cried the boy.
"Run, or you'll be shot!"
Father Bear grew terribly hurried. However, he allowed himself time
enough to pick up the boy and carry him along. As he ran, a couple of
shots sounded, and the bullets grazed his ears, but, luckily, he
escaped.
The boy thought, as he was dangling from the bear's mouth, that never
had he been so stupid as he was to-night. If he had only kept still, the
bear would have been shot, and he himself would have been freed. But he
had become so accustomed to helping the animals that he did it
naturally, and as a matter of course.
When Father Bear had run some distance into the woods, he paused and set
the boy down on the ground.
"Thank you, little one!" he said. "I dare say those bullets would have
caught me if you hadn't been there. And now I want to do you a service
in return.
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