ht," said Don. "Mind you don't fire unless it's at a bear. I'll
do the same."

In a few minutes Hughie found himself alone in the thick underbrush of
the swamp. The shadows were lying heavy, and the sunlight that still
caught the tops of the tall trees was quite lost in the gloom of the low
underbrush. Deep moss under foot, with fallen trees and thick-growing
balsam and cedars, made the walking difficult, and every step Hughie
wished himself out in the clearing. He began to feel, too, the
oppression of the falling darkness. He tried whistling to keep up his
courage, but the sound seemed to fill the whole woods about him, and he
soon gave it up.

After a few minutes he stood still and called for Fido, but the dog had
gone on some hunt of his own, and with a sense of deeper loneliness,
he set himself again to his struggle with the moss and brush and fallen
trees. At length he reached firmer ground, and began with more cheerful
heart to climb up to the open.

Suddenly he heard a rustle, and saw the brush in front of him move.

"Oh, there you are, you brute," he cried, "come in here. Come in, Fido.
Here, sir!"

He pushed the bushes aside, and his heart jumped and filled his mouth.
A huge, black shape stood right across his path not ten paces away. A
moment they gazed at each other, and then, with a low growl, the bear
began to sway awkwardly toward him. Hughie threw up his gun and fired.
The bear paused, snapping viciously and tearing at his wounded shoulder,
and then rushed on Hughie without waiting to rise on his hind legs.

Like a flash Hughie dodged behind the brush, and then fled like the wind
toward the open. Looking over his shoulder, he saw the bear shambling
after him at a great pace, and gaining at every jump, and his heart
froze with terror. The balsams and spruces were all too low for safety.
A little way before him he saw a small birch. If he could only make that
he might escape. Summoning all his strength he rushed for the tree,
the bear closing fast upon him. Could he spring up out of reach of the
bear's awful claws?

Two yards from the tree he heard an angry snap and snarl at his heels.
With a cry, he dropped his gun, and springing for the lowest bough, drew
up his legs quickly after him with the horrible feeling of having
them ripped asunder. To his amazement he found that the bear was not
scrambling up the tree after him, but was still some paces off, with
Fido skirmishing at long range. It was Fid