Jimmy chose the open space nearer the shore, Bobby a more direct, though
more obstructed, course across the island, but both took the general
direction of camp. As the two diverged the bear, probably because he was
more plainly in view, chose to follow Jimmy, and followed him so
strenuously and with such singleness of purpose that he was presently
at Jimmy's very heels--so close at his heels, indeed, that had Jimmy
stopped or hesitated or lessened his speed for an instant, the
infuriated beast would have been upon him.
Bobby was quick to discover that the bear had left his own trail, and he
was also quick to discover Jimmy's imminent danger. There was no other
help at hand. If Jimmy was to be saved, he must save him. The thought
crossed his mind like a flash of lightning. He did not lose his
head--Bobby never lost his head in an emergency. He thought of
everything. He feared there was not time to reload, but it was the only
thing to do. As he ran he drew two shells, loaded with ball, from his
pocket. For the fraction of a minute he halted, "broke" his gun, dropped
the shells into place, snapped the gun back and threw it to his
shoulder, but in the brief interval that had elapsed the bear and Jimmy
had so far gained upon him that the distance between him and the bear
loomed up before him now as almost hopelessly long. If he only had a
rifle, instead of his shotgun! But it was the last hope, and whispering
a prayer to God to send the bullet straight, with nerves as tense as
steel, he pulled the trigger.
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