If it was another miss--every second counted.

The cut in the mountain was clear.

Breathlessly he dashed through it and stopped on the opposite side, his eyes eagerly scanning the rock-strewn ridge.
He made no attempt to suppress the exclamation of joy that came to his lips when, fully eight hundred yards away, he discerned the bear coming down the side of the mountain, and in his direction.

Crouching behind a huge boulder Rod waited.

Seven hundred yards, six hundred, five hundred, and the bear turned, this time striking into the edge of the plain.