There! he has fired
again, and that time he missed, for the range was too close."
Frank, as he was speaking, commenced to advance into the open.
"Looky out, Marse Frank, he chaw yuh up, clean suah!" bawled Uncle
Toby, from the crotch in the tree where his ladder had allowed him to
reach. "Git up heah, honey, whah he can't reach yuh. Dat b'ar am ma-ad
clar t'rough!"
"Four times he's shot--didn't I say he couldn't hit the side of a barn.
Think of him carrying a Gatling gun," said Jerry.
"But he _has_ hit him more than once. Look how the brute is bleeding, and
just to think, Jerry, he's got two more chances. Those pump-guns don't
seem so very bad in an emergency," laughed Frank, who seemed to be
enjoying the little affair very much indeed.
"There goes one more; and the bear still lives. Talk to me about that,
will you, if he didn't shoot its stub of a tail off that time! What next,
I wonder? Why not execute the poor beast scientifically, and not murder
him by inches?"
He moved his gun forward again as though bent on shooting. Frank,
however, would not let him raise the weapon.
"Wait, I say; give Bluff one more chance. Make allowance for his
excitement and his position while the bear is shaking that tree so.
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