LUB'S BEAR
"It's Lub!" exclaimed X-Ray, like a flash, for he was always quick to
jump at conclusions.
"He's fallen in one of his holes!" gasped Ethan.
"Not much; it's something worse than that!" cried Phil, as another whoop
came to their ears.
It happened that they could not see out on the ice where they were
standing, and consequently the first thing any of them thought of doing
was to jump around the patch of bushes so as to get a clear view.
They could hardly believe their eyes. There was poor Lub trying his
level best to run over the smooth ice, with a shaggy black bear in hot
pursuit! Even as they looked the animal went through a queer sort of
gymnastic performance, as though striving to seize hold of some object
that Lub seemed to be dragging after him.
"It's a fish on one of his lines the bear wants!" exclaimed Phil, hardly
knowing whether to burst out laughing, or consider the situation a
serious one for the terrified boy on the ice.
He compromised matters by darting aside and snatching up his rifle; an
act that caught the eye of Ethan Allen, and was instantly copied by that
wideawake individual.
"Help! make him let up chasing after me!" shouted Lub, as well as he was
able, considering the fact that he kept slipping and rolling over, only
to scramble wildly to his feet, and start off once more in his clumsy
fashion.
"Let him have the fish you're dragging after you!" shouted Phil, even as
he began to move out on the ice, with the other two at his heels.
"I can't! Line's got fast to my leg; and he ate up all the others
anyway!" Lub called back, as he waddled along with frantic zeal.
"Turn to the left so you'll be out of range when we shoot!" bellowed
Phil.
Apparently the fugitive heard this, and also understood, for they could
see that he was doing his best to obey; though the slippery ice did play
all manner of tricks with those uncertain "pins" of his, causing him
many a frantic struggle.
As he ran Lub could not keep from "rubbering" as Ethan called it. He
would twist his fat neck around in order to learn just how close his
hairy pursuer chanced to be at the moment. This helped to make his
flight more uncertain, and brought about his downfall several times.
As Phil and Ethan were much more surefooted than the stout boy, and not
at all frightened, they made better progress. On this account they
gained continually, so that when Lub had managed to sheer off, and
presented his left side to them, they were really close enough to make
sure of the bear.
"Ready, Ethan?" called out Phil.
"Yes!" came the reply, as both of them suddenly stopped short.
The two reports sounded almost as one. Lub gave another squeal as though
his nerves were strained to the limit; but when on casting one of his
apprehensive looks over his shoulder he saw his tormentor struggling
there on the ice as though he had received his death hurt, the fat boy's
humor changed.
"Give him some more, fellows!" he shrieked. "The glutton! to devour all
my fine fish. We'll make it up by feasting on bear steak to-night, then;
that's the only way to get even. Oh! he's getting up again, and he's got
it in for me because I said that. Shoot him once more, Phil!"
"It's no use, because he's done for," Phil told him, for the bear after
that expiring effort had fallen back again, and given his last kick.
When Lub made sure of this, and saw that his chums were all gathered
about the fallen animal, he summoned up enough courage to join the
circle.
"How did it happen, Lub?" asked X-Ray, who had now joined the rest.
The stout chum rubbed his chin, and shrugged his plump shoulders.
"Gee! but he did give me a terrible shock!" he remarked, as though once
more passing through the dreadful experience of the surprise.
"Tell us about it," urged Ethan; "and how did it come you let him eat up
all your fish without giving the alarm?"
"Well, this is about the way it happened," Lub began. "My back was
turned on the pile of fish for I was fighting with the gamiest one of
the lot, this husky muscalonge here, the only real decent one that's
left," and he mournfully surveyed the still flopping fish that he had
been dragging after him all the while.
"Yes, go on, what happened then?" continued the eager X-Ray.
"Why, I remember hearing some sort of champing sound back of me, but I
guess I must have thought you fellows were making it ashore. Anyway I
never bothered paying the least bit of attention to the same but kept on
fighting this musky here for all I was worth. Whew!"
"You pulled the fish in finally of course?" said Ethan as the other
paused to wipe his streaming forehead for all it was so cold.
"Yes, with a great big yank," Lub explained. "It kind of flew through
the air a bit, and I turned at the same time to see that bear rear up on
his hind legs and do his level best to grab the flying fish. When it
fell to the ice he started for it, and that was when I managed to let
off my first whoop for help."
"Yes, I kind of thought you called out that word, but I wasn't dead
sure," X-Ray told him; "but what next did you-all do, as our old friend
Simon Blodgett down on the Coast would say?"
"What, me? I ran like everything, fell down, got on my feet again, and
seeing the bear putting after me I kept agoing and awhooping for all I
was worth."
"Did you know he was after the fish, and not you?" asked Phil, secretly
amused, though managing to keep a straight face.
"Why, yes, I got on to that wrinkle, all right," replied the other,
"because I could see him trying to fall on the fish every chance he had.
But I objected to turning over my last catch to the old scoundrel; even
if the line hadn't gone and got fast to my leg I don't believe I'd have
let him have it, unless it came to nip and tuck with me."
"Well, you have plenty of time to gather another lot of fish, Lub,"
suggested Ethan; "and after all, your adventure has been the means of
gaining us our first fresh meat in Canada. We paid enough for our
licenses to hunt up here to want to get the worth of our good money."
"And, Phil, don't you think I've got a right to call him _my_ bear?"
asked Lub, as if struck with a sudden inspiration.
"What! after the two of us shot him?" ejaculated Ethan.
"But didn't I _lure_ him along with my trailing muscalonge?" demanded
Lub, triumphantly; "if it hadn't been for me fishing so industriously
out here on the ice, and tempting Bruin to show himself, would you have
had a chance to shoot? I guess not. You only finished my work for me; I
must have had him all tired out running."
Ethan wore a wide grin by that time.
"Sure you did, Lub," he declared frankly, with a wink toward Phil;
"anybody could see that you meant to wear him down to his death. His
tongue was hanging out of his mouth, and if you'd kept him going _long
enough_ there isn't any doubt but that the poor thing would have turned
up his toes without a single shot being fired. We'll call him Lub's
coaxed bear after this."
"There's two of your tip-ups acting crazy, Lub," called out X-Ray just
then; "and you'd better be taking off the fish you'll find on the
hooks."
"Isn't this the greatest sort of sport though?" said Lub, as he started
off to attend to his lines.
"It certainly couldn't well be beaten!" admitted Phil, as he and his two
comrades indulged in a fit of laughter that was none the less vigorous
because they chose to keep it silent, out of consideration for the
feelings of their beloved fat chum.
"I wonder how it comes this chap hadn't gone into winter quarters yet?"
Ethan remarked, poking the dead bear with the toe of his boot. "Down our
way they can seldom be seen after the first snowfall, and never come out
until there is a regular break-up of winter."
"Well, away up here the winter lasts much longer, and that would account
for it," Phil suggested. "They may want to stay out to the very last,
knowing how it holds on away up to May. But no matter what the cause,
this fine fat fellow stayed out too long."
"He'll not hibernate any more if we know it," observed X-Ray Tyson, with
a satisfied smirk; "instead he'll help to fill up four hungry chaps I
happen to be acquainted with. And after all what nobler end could any
bear wish to come to than that?"
Two of the boys returned, to get busy again on the shack; while Phil
stayed out on the ice to attend to taking the hide from the dead bear,
and securing what choice portions they wanted.
It promised to be a long task, but Phil did it, as he was in the habit
of doing everything he undertook, with exactness. Lub kept on taking
more fish, though whenever he found a breathing spell between bites he
would amble over to watch what Phil was doing, and make remarks.
"I'll have that skin made into a fine rug, some of these days," he
declared, as he ran his hand over the silky hair; "and every time I look
at it I'll remember what a great time I had luring the beast within
range of your guns."
"What would have been your plan of campaign, Lub, in case we had not
happened to be within hailing distance?" asked Phil, looking quite
innocent as he said it.
Lub gave him rather a suspicious glance, and then replied loftily:
"Oh! I don't know. To be frank I hadn't reached that point. Mebbe I
might have used my knife, and cut the fish line, so he could grab the
muscalonge. Then while he was devouring that I might have found a chance
to sneak up behind and finish the rascal with one sure blow from my
trusty hunting knife. Course I don't actually say I _would_ have done
that; but it might have occurred to me, you know."
When Phil allowed his memory to go back and recall the look of terror he
had seen on Lub's white face he decided in his own mind that there was
about as much chance of such a wonderful feat being carried out as there
was of Lub developing wings and flying.
"You're getting as many fish as we can well use, I reckon, Lub?" he
remarked, to change the subject.
"Sure thing, Phil; and after I pull in three more I think I'll call it
off for to-day. I've covered a good many miles, running from one hole to
another, and back again over the whole line. I didn't come up here to
reduce myself to a shadow, you know. Over-work is a bad thing for a
growing boy, they say."
"There's only one thing I'll always be sorry for, Lub."
"You mean about this bear adventure, don't you?" asked the other,
suspiciously.
"Yes. I should have kept my wits about me and have done it, too."
"What was that, Phil?"
"Snatched up my camera and managed to snap off a picture of how you
lured your bear into the trap. Some of our boy friends down Brewster-way
would like to see it. They may be inclined to doubt more or less when
they hear the story; but that would be proof they'd have to accept as
genuine, Lub."
The fat boy seemed to consider it for a brief time.
When he turned to meet Phil's gaze again there was a whimsical
expression on his face that spoke volumes.
"Well, on the whole, Phil," he went on to say, "I guess I'm just as glad
you did forget to grab up your camera that time. You see, in telling a
story a fellow might accidentally embellish just a little more each
time; and a picture is a terrible accusation, for it keeps you pinned
down close to facts. There, I've got a bite on two lines. Whoof, hold
on!"