“Won’t he come any nearer?”
As I waited I saw him move his ears, turn, and go back; and then I caught a glimpse of the whole of him in profile. He was an immense brute. In my excitement, I fired, and heard my bullet go “flop” against a tree. Peering through the smoke, I saw my bear scampering back into the circle, and disappearing among the trees.
“Well,” thought I. “My chance is lost. He won’t come back to me. Either my comrade will shoot him, or he will escape through the line of beaters. In any case he won’t give me another chance.”
I reloaded my gun, however, and again stood listening. The peasants were shouting all round, but to the right, not far from where my comrade stood, I heard a woman screaming in a frenzied voice:
“Here he is! Here he is! Come here, come here! Oh! Oh! Ay! Ay!”
Evidently she could see the bear. I had given up expecting him, and was looking to the right at my comrade. All at once I saw Damian with a stick in his hand, and without his snowshoes, running along a footpath towards my friend. He crouched down beside him, pointing his stick as if aiming at something, and then I saw my friend raise his gun and aim in the same direction. Crack! He fired.
“There,” thought I. “He has killed him.”
But I saw that my comrade did not run towards the bear. Evidently he had missed him, or the shot had not taken full effect.
“The bear will get away,” I thought. “He will go back, but he won’t come a second time towards me.—But what is that?”
Something was coming towards me like a whirlwind, snorting as it came; and I saw the snow flying up quite near me. I glanced straight before me,