h us if we tackle him. If
you're scared a little bit, Neal, let up, an' I'll finish him alone."

"Scared!" Neal flung the word back with scorn, as if he was returning a
blow. For the life of him he could not bring out another syllable,
going at a faster rate than ever he had done in the most stubbornly
contested handicap. The strong-winded guide rapped out his sentences as
he ran, apparently without waste of breath.

The feverish enthusiasm of the hunter, which he had never felt before,
was now alive in Neal. His blood raced through his veins like liquid
fire. He had been long enough in Maine to know that in wreaking
vengeance on Bruin for many misdeeds he would be acting in the interests
of justice. For the black bear is still such a master pest to the
settlers who are trying to establish their farms amid the forests where
it roams, that the State has outlawed the beast, and pays a bounty for
its skin.

Joe thought little about this; for a gentleman whom he had guided early
in the summer had lately written to him, offering a price of fifteen
dollars for a good bearskin.

Here was the woodsman's golden opportunity--an opportunity for which he
had been thirsting since the receipt of that letter.

[Illustration: "GO IT, OLD BRUIN! GO IT WHILE YOU CAN!"]

He already regarded his triumph over the bear as secure, and its hide as
forfeited. He nearly caused Neal Farrar to burst a blood-vessel from
the combined effects of struggling laughter and running, when he began
to apostrophize the flying foe with grim humor, thus:--

"Go it, old Bruin! Go it while ye can! There ain't a hair on yer back
that b'longs to ye!"

But it soon became evident that the bear couldn't go on much longer at
this breakneck pace. Its pursuers heard its steps with increasing
distinctness, and then its labored breathing. They were gaining on it
fast.

The brute came into full view about forty yards ahead, as it ascended a
slight elevation, crowned with blasted tree trunks.

"I'll draw bead on him from here," said Joe, stopping short. "Get ready
to fire, lad, if he turns. It'll take lots o' lead to finish that
fellow."

Twice Joe's rifle spoke again. One shot took effect. There was a fearful
growl from the beast, but it was not yet mortally wounded.

Maddened and desperate, it wheeled about, and came straight for its
pursuers. Again the guide fired. Still the bear advanced, gnashing its
teeth and mumbling horribly; Neal saw its black shape