halt on this unexpected caution, and each
cocked his piece as they looked, first into the gloom beyond, and then
at each other, in surprise and perplexity.

"Halloo! captain, where are you?" shouted Ned.

"And where's the bear!" added Tom Collins.

"Right in front o' you," replied the captain, "about fifty yards on.
The bear's at the bottom o' the tree, and I'm a-top of it. Come on, and
fire together; but aim _low_, d'ye hear?"

"Ay, ay, sir," replied Bill Jones, as if he were answering a command on
shipboard, while he advanced boldly in the direction indicated.

The others were abreast of him instantly, Ned and Larry holding the
torches high in their left hands as they approached, step by step, with
rifles ready for instant use.

"Have a care," cried the captain; "I see him. He seems to be crouchin'
to make a rush."

This caused another halt; but as no rush was made, the party continued
to advance very slowly.

"Oh! av ye would only shew yerself," said Larry, in a suppressed tone of
exasperation at being kept so long in nervous expectation.

"I see him," cried Ned, taking aim.

The rest of the party cried "Where!" aimed in the same direction, and
the whole fired a volley, the result of which was, that Captain Bunting
fell a second time to the ground, crashing through the branches with a
terrible noise, and alighting heavily at the foot of the tree. To the
surprise of all, he instantly jumped up, and seizing Ned and Tom as they
came up, shook them warmly by the hand.

"Och! are ye not shot, capting?" exclaimed Larry.

"Not a bit; not even hurt," answered the captain, laughing.

The fact was, that Captain Bunting, in his anxiety to escape being
accidentally shot by his comrades, had climbed to the utmost possible
height among the tender top branches of the oak. When the volley was
fired, he lost his balance, fell through the tree, the under branches of
which happily broke his fall, and finally alighted on the back of the
grizzly-bear itself, which lay extended, and quite dead, on the ground.

"Faix we've polished him off for wance," cried Larry, in the excess of
his triumph, as he stood looking at the fallen bear.

"Faix we've done nothing of the sort," retorted Tom Collins, who was
examining the carcase. "It's been dead for hours, and is quite cold.
Every bullet has missed, too, for the shot that settled him is on the
side next the ground. So much for hasty shooting. Had bruin been alive
when we