The tree swayed and bent till the top almost touched the ground.

But Hughie, with his legs wreathed round the trunk, brought his gun to his shoulder, and with its muzzle almost touching the breast of the hanging brute, pulled the trigger.
There was a terrific report, the bear dropped in a heap from the tree, and Hughie was hurled violently to the ground some distance away, partially stunned.

He raised himself to see the bear struggle up to a sitting position, and gnashing his teeth, and flinging blood and foam from his mouth, begin to drag himself toward him.

He was conscious of a languid indifference, and found himself wondering how long the bear would take to cover the distance.
But while he was thus cogitating there was a sharp, quick bark, and a great black form hurled itself at the bear's throat and bore the fierce brute to the ground.
Drawing a long sigh, Hughie sank back to the ground, with the sound of a far-away shot in his ears, and darkness veiling his eyes.
He was awakened by Don's voice anxiously calling him.
"Are you hurt much, Hughie?
Did he squeeze you ?" Hughie sat up, blinking stupidly.
"What ?" he asked.

"Who ?" "Why, the bear, of course." "The bear?
No.