His heart leaped with joy as he saw the bear stop, bite again at the
wound, this time near its hind quarters, and then with a roar of rage
turn from Jimmy toward himself.
He would not risk another shot at that distance. He would wait now for
his enemy to come to close quarters, and with nimble fingers he slipped
a loaded shell into the empty barrel, that when the time came to shoot
he might have two bullets at his disposal instead of one. He had never
felt so perfectly cool and steady in his life, nor so absolutely
unafraid, as now, while he stood erect and waited.
The bear was not twenty feet away when he fired his first shot. It
staggered, shook its head for a moment, and then rushed on. Bobby drew a
careful bead and fired again. The bear fell forward, pawed the rocks,
regained its feet, and lunged at Bobby.
CHAPTER XI
WHEN THE ICEBERG TURNED
But the bear had spent its vitality, and as Bobby sprang nimbly aside it
fell at the very spot upon which the young hunter had stood when he
delivered his last shot, struggled a little, gave a gasp or two, and
died. And when Jimmy came running up a moment later Bobby with great
pride was standing by the side of his prostrate victim.
"We got him, Jimmy! We got him!" said he in high glee, touching the
carcass with his toe.
"But, Bobby, what a chance you took!" Jimmy exclaimed. "Supposing you
hadn't stopped him!"
"No chance of that at all," declared Bobby in his usual positive tone.
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