bstinate little
tormentors, when the dam, recovering herself in a twinkling, was bearing
down upon him again on her hind legs with greater fury than ever.
Against such desperate odds how could he hold out longer, reduced as he
was to an empty gun, one leg, and no dog? Still hopping about on one
foot and kicking with the other, he had unsheathed his hunting-knife to
do what he might with that in the unmotherly hug which he felt must come
at last, when here, in the nick of time, having heard his master's call
from afar, the heroic Grumbo came dashing up to the rescue. Without
yelp, or bark, or growl, or any other needless ado, this jewel of a dog
laid hold of the she-bear's stump of a tail, which his instinct told him
was the enemy's vulnerable point, and with a sudden, forcible, backward
pull, brought her ladyship growling to her all-fours. The cubs, seeing
their dam's extremity, left off worrying the legs of the almost
breathless hunter to fall tooth and nail on the new enemy. But heeding
them no more than so many fleas to be scratched off at his leisure,
Grumbo continued to maintain his vantage-ground, holding the she-bear
still by the tail with jaws inflexible as death, and merely turning from
right to left as she turned from right to left, to keep himself on a
line with her and beyond the reach of her claws and teeth.

Meanwhile, having inspected Betsy Grumbo, to make sure that she had
sustained no damage in the conflict, Burl put her in "extry bitin'
order" by loading her with two bullets and a double charge of powder.
Then stepping a few paces to one side, so as not to endanger Grumbo, he
took deliberate aim and let the dam have it full in the body, just
behind the shoulder. With a fierce growl she sunk down lifeless by the
side of her slain lord, the jaws of the dog still clinched like a vice
upon her tail.

"An' dat's de way," to finish Burl's own story in his own words,
"Burlman Rennuls an' Grumbo woun' up de ol' she-bar. Den goes I up to de
cubs, whar dey still kep a-gnawin' an' a-scratchin' an' a-clawin' ober
Grumbo, an' tickles 'em to death wid de pint uf my knife. Den I looks
roun' an' dare's Grumbo still a-holdin' on to de varmint's tail like a
dead turtle to a corn-cob. Says I: 'Grumbo, onscrew yo' vice an' stop
yo' chawin'; de varmint's dead. Don't you know Betsy Grumbo alwus bites
in de heart, an' bars never play 'possum?' Den Grumbo lets go slow an'
easy as uf he's afeerd de varmint wus makin' a fool u