“Is she coming back?” he asked nervously.
The Indian laughed. “No, she is running yet. Black bear always a coward; they never fight when they can run away.”
The little ones up the tree were, of course, at the mercy of the hunters, and in this case it was not a broken straw they depended on, but an ample salvation. “We don't need the meat and can't carry it with us; let's leave them,” said Rolf, but added, “Will they find their mother?”
“Yes, bime-by; they come down and squall all over woods. She will hang round half a mile away and by night all will be together.”
Their first bear hunt was over. Not a shot fired, not a bear wounded, not a mile travelled, and not an hour lost. And yet it seemed much more full of interesting thrills than did any one of the many stirring bear hunts that Rolf and Quonab shared together in the days that were to come.
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