Joe’s imagination had several times worked him into a fury, which had as often subsided in disappointment, during the chase below, every particle of which could be distinctly heard from his position.  More than once, when a brisk breeze swept up the valley, he was convinced that his enemy was approaching him, and, every nerve quivering with the expectation of the bear coming in view the next instant, he stood a spectacle of eagerness, with perhaps a small portion of apprehension intermingled.  At length, from the frequent deceptions the distance practiced upon him, he grew composed by degrees, and resuming his seat on the stone, with his musket lying across his knees, thus gave vent to his thoughts:  “What if an Indian were to pounce upon me while I’m sitting here?” Here he paused, and looked carefully round in every direction.  “No!” he continued; “if there were any at this time in the neighbourhood, wouldn’t Boone know it?  To be sure he would, and here’s my gun—­I forgot that.  Let them come as soon as they please!  I wonder if the bear will come out here?  Suppose he does, what’s the danger?  Didn’t I grapple with him last night?  And couldn’t I jump on Pete and get away from him!  But—­pshaw!  I keep forgetting my gun—­I wish he would come, I’d serve him worse than he served me last night!  My face feels very sore this morning.  There!” he exclaimed, when he heard the fire of Glenn’s gun, and the report that succeeded from Boone’s, “they’ve floored him as dead as a nail, I’ll bet.  Hang it!  I should like to have had a word or two with him myself, to have told him I hadn’t forgotten his ugly grin.  The men must have known I would stand no chance of killing him when they placed me up here.  I should like to know what part of the sport I’ve had—­ough!” exclaimed he, his hair standing upright, as he beheld the huge bear, panting and bleeding, coming towards him, and not twenty paces distant!

Bruin had eluded the dogs a few minutes by climbing a bending tree at the mouth of the valley, from which he passed to another, and descending again to the earth, proceeded almost exhausted up the ravine.  Joe’s eyes grew larger and larger as the monster approached, and when within a few feet of him he uttered a horrible unearthly sound, which attracted the bear, and fearing the fatal aim of man more than the teeth of the dogs, he whirled about, with a determination to fight his way back, in preference to again risking the murderous lead.  No sooner was the bear out of sight, and plunging down the dell amid the cries of the dogs, which assailed him on all sides, than Joe bethought him of his gun, and becoming valorous, ran a few steps down the path and fired in the direction of the confused melee.  The moment after he discharged his musket, the back part of his head struck the earth, and the gun made two or three end-over-end revolutions up the path behind him.  Never, perhaps, was such a rebound from overloading known before.  Joe now thought not of the bear, nor looked to see what execution he had done.  He thought of his own person, which he found prostrate on the ground.  When somewhat recovered from the blow, he rose with his hand pressed to his nose, while the blood ran out between his fingers.  “Oh! my goodness!” he exclaimed, seating himself at the root of a pecan tree, and rocking backwards and forwards.