Bluff came scrambling down from his uncertain perch, looking wild.
"Is he really dead, fellows? Just to think that after all I did it with
my new repeating shotgun! Ain't it a dandy, though? If Jerry hadn't gone
to work and hid it away, I might have downed all the game that's come
into this camp," he said, looking upon the black, hairy beast with a
shudder, for he had had quite a severe fright while swaying to and fro
with an angry bear beneath waiting for him to drop, like a ripe
persimmon, as Jerry afterwards described it.
"Jerry?" shouted Will, in blank amazement.
"Yes, he stuck the gun in that long box over there. You remember his
falling over it and bruising his shins. That was what gave him the
miserable idea, I suppose. Anyway, he did it while the rest of us were
out in the brush hunting for the fellow who threw those rocks into our
camp," declared Bluff, scowling at the author of his woes.
Jerry laughed, a little forcedly it is true.
"I suppose I might as well own up, Bluff. I'm the guilty wretch, all
right. The temptation came to me, and I did the job without thinking what
it would mean to you. Honestly I've felt sore about it more than once
since, and had just about made up my mind to confess, when by some
accident, it seems, you found it.
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