“Then we had better hurry.”

Thereupon the two broke into a run again, which they kept up till pretty well tired out.

They could hear Bowser baying at no great distance, and, consequently, were sure that Herbert himself was not far off.

“If we three come upon him we ought to be able to kill him without much risk to ourselves—­that is, if we use any sort of care in taking aim.”

“We must try and do that—­hark!”

At that instant they were startled by the sharp report of a rifle, the distance and direction leaving no doubt that it was fired by Herbert Watrous.

Sam and Nick fairly turned pale, and something like a feeling of envy came over them at the belief that Herbert, after all his boasting, had succeeded in bringing down the royal game without their help.

The shot was fired so close that, as they hastened forward again, they expected to come upon the hunter and his game every minute.

“Hallo! what does that mean?”

The question was caused by the sudden appearance of Bowser, who was limping toward them in a panic of terror.  At every leap he uttered a yelp, which was of pain and fear.

The boys stopped, and the hound, running up, crouched down at their feet, whining and moaning.

“He is hurt!” said Sam, who noticed that he was bleeding from a wound in the shoulder, where the claws of some animal had struck him with great force.

“It was done by the bear,” said Nick, “and he hit Bowser a hard blow; I shouldn’t wonder if it kills him.”

Sam stooped over the dog and tried to soothe him by patting and speaking kind words.

“He is badly hurt, but I hope he isn’t going to die.  Poor fellow! we have been unjust to him; he’s a good deal braver dog than we gave him credit for.”

They were still patting and soothing the wounded hound, when the report of Herbert’s rifle was heard again.  Sam and Nick started up and stared in the direction whence the sound came.

“He has got the bear—­”

Just then the voice of Herbert was heard ringing through the forest arches: 

“Quick! quick! help! help! the bear has got me!  Hurry up, boys, or I’m a goner!”

The lads dashed forward, excited and fearful they would be too late.

The voice of the imperiled hunter rang out again.

“Quick! quick! the bear has got me sure!  Hurry boys, hurry, for pity’s sake!”

The next instant Sam and Nick came upon an extraordinary scene.

CHAPTER XXX.

A FRIEND IN NEED.

Herbert Watrous had been set upon by a huge bear, and, throwing aside his Creedmoor, had run with might and main for a large stump, behind which he took refuge.  Had he climbed a sapling, he would have been safe, but he was too flustered to think of that.

Dodging behind this shelter he squatted down, hoping that his enemy did not notice where he had gone; but, when he heard the brute lumbering after him, he hastily shifted his quarters to the other side of the stump.  While doing so, he emitted the ringing cries for help which brought his friends in such haste to his rescue.