Part 17 (1/2)

”Thanks! I guess I'll do the job myself!” he remarked.

”With that pop gun of yours?” asked the incredulous Steve.

”No, I'm going to ask Max to lend me his rifle,” replied Bandy-legs.

”Much you know about a repeating rifle!” continued his tormentor.

”Well, I did fire it a few times at a target, didn't I, Max?” protested the chosen one.

”You sure did, and really hit the target once,” Max hastened to answer, as he exchanged guns with Bandy-legs.

”Huh, that ain't sayin' much, when like as not the target was a _barn_!”

Ignoring this last thrust from Steve as something beneath his notice, Bandy-legs saw to it that the hammer of the repeating rifle was drawn back.

”Where'll I stand, Uncle Jim?” he demanded, trying to appear quite cool; but the experienced old trapper knew very well how he was secretly quivering all over.

”Here, drop down behind this rock and rest your rifle on it,” he said.

”Now, wait till I say the word, and then press the trigger. Aim just back of the foreleg, because you're more apt to reach his heart there.”

”What if I don't kill him?” asked Bandy-legs, with a big sigh.

”Clap another sh.e.l.l in and give it to him. Reckon you know how to work the trombone action, don't you?” the trapper went on to say.

”Sure I do,” answered the Nimrod, lowering his cheek to the stock of the gun.

”Remember, now, and don't shut your eyes, Bandy-legs!” advised Steve.

”Let up on that, Steve,” remarked Max, who was greatly interested in seeing the novice get a square deal.

Half a minute of waiting followed. The dogs continued to jump and bark, and the bear, made savage by his pain, tugged at his chain and growled.

”Shoot!” said Trapper Jim, suddenly.

Almost with the word came the clear report of the rifle, showing that at least Steve's jibes had had the effect of putting Bandy-legs on his mettle.

With a fearful roar the bear fell over and began struggling. The dogs seemed almost frantic now in their desire to break loose.

”Quick, work the pump action and get ready!” called out Trapper Jim.

Bandy-legs managed to do as he was told, though he was shaking so by this time that he almost let the gun drop.

”Hold on, no use wasting another shot. I reckon he's done for,” was what he heard Trapper Jim say.

”And you've been and gone and killed a real live bear, Bandy-legs!” said Max.

The boy heaved a sigh as he gave back the rifle.

”But he was held fast in a trap, Max,” he said, moodily; ”guess that ain't so much to crow over.”