"My, but he's a monster!" gasped Larry. "It's only a waste of
valuable time to try to lift him or even move him. The only thing
we can do is to try to feel under him with our hands."
Dropping to their knees, the lads thrust their arms under the
shaggy fur, being able to reach far; enough to make sure that the
much-wanted rifle was not beneath the body of the bear.
"Bet he knocked it over the cliff," declared Horace. "From which
side did he strike it, Tom?"
"More than I know. All I could see was paws. The air was full of
them and they seemed to come from all directions at once."
This explanation brought laughter to Larry and Horace, which ceased
abruptly, however, as from somewhere on the mountains there
suddenly rang out a low wail, more like the howl of a coyote than
anything else, yet with a certain difference that even the chums
were able to distinguish.
"Whatever that is, I don't care to meet it," exclaimed Horace.
"Let's go back. We've still got two rifles. If we stick to the
plains till we join father we can get along all right."
"Suppose we don't meet your father, what then?" returned Larry.
"Always looking for more trouble, as if we didn't have enough
already," chided Tom. "Of course we'll meet him. Anyhow, this is
no place to argue about it. If you and Horace can't protect me,
I'll take both your rifles and watch over the two of you.
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