Part 6 (2/2)

CHAPTER V.

WHAT CAME DOWN THE CHIMNEY.

”It's a bear!” whooped Steve, as he made a headlong dash for the corner where his double barrel stood.

Forgotten just then was the injunction of the old trapper that they should not shoot any thing that wore fur, as it would cheat him out of all his expected profits.

If a bear became so bold as to enter the cabin by way of the chimney he must surely be treated, with scant ceremony. Buckshot or birdshot, it mattered little which the gun contained, since at close quarters the load would carry like a large bullet.

But Steve had not even managed to lay a hand on his gun, when he was amazed to hear above the barking of the two dogs, loud shrieks of laughter from Max, Owen, and Toby.

Even the hoa.r.s.er notes of the trapper seemed to join in. And when there chanced to be a little break in all this racket, Steve caught a wailing voice crying aloud:

”Put me out! Somebody throw a bucket of water over me, and put me out!

I'm all a-fire! Why can't you help a feller?”

A figure was dancing around like mad, now slapping at his trousers leg, and then trying to reach the middle of his back, where his coat seemed to be smoldering.

It was Bandy-legs.

Steve instantly recognized his chum, and this fact, taken with the noise in the chimney, gave the thing away.

Bandy-legs had tried to play a prank on them, and, as usual, made a sorry mess of it.

While sitting there and looking at the wide-throated chimney, perhaps his mind went out to what Jim had told about the curious bear which, hunting around on the roof of a cabin to ascertain where that fine odor of hams came from, fell down the chimney.

He would climb upon the roof and lower a make-believe wildcat, fas.h.i.+oned out of an old moth-eaten skin Jim had thrown away.

That accounted for Bandy-legs' astonis.h.i.+ng announcement that he would go out and gather some of the wood for the night.

It also explained to Max just why he had been stout string that lay upon the trapper's table. This would be needed in the carrying out of his trick.

But, like the incautious bear, Bandy-legs had also leaned too far over the top of the chimney. Perhaps he wanted, not to sniff the smoked hams below, as in the case of Bruin, but to hear the shouts of consternation when his make-believe bobcat landed in the fireplace, apparently jumping up and down as Bandy-legs jerked the string.

The consequence had been that he fell into the opening, and, landing on all fours, scattered the little fire in every direction.

But seeing that the boy's clothes were really on fire in several places, Max grabbed up the first thing he could think of that might be depended on to extinguish the smoldering cloth.

”Hold on, that's my supper!” shouted Trapper Jim, clutching the hand of Max before he could empty the kettle. ”Here's the water-bucket; use that.”

And Max did so, drenching poor dancing Bandy-legs from head to foot with the contents of the pail.

”That's the time Bandy-legs came near getting more than his share of the grub,” declared Owen, who was busily engaged stamping out some of the smoldering brands that had been scattered around so promiscuously when the sprawling figure of the boy landed in their midst.

”Somebody carry that old skin outside,” said Trapper Jim. ”It's burning more or less, and we'll have the cabin so full of smell we won't be able to stay in it much longer.”

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