Then he grinned down into Rod's dripping, unhappy face.
"By George, that last shot was a dandy for a tenderfoot! You got your bear!" Despite his uncomfortable position, Rod gave a whoop of joy, and no sooner did his feet touch solid bottom than he loosened himself from Wabi's grip and plunged toward the driftwood.

On its very top he found the bear, as dead as a bullet through its side and another through its head could make it.

Standing there beside his first big game, dripping and shivering, he looked down upon the two who were pulling their canoe ashore and gave, a series of triumphant whoops that could have been heard half a mile away.
"It's camp and a fire for you," laughed Wabi, hurrying up to him.

"This is better luck than I thought you'd have, Rod.

We'll have a glorious feast to-night, and a fire of this driftwood that will show you what makes life worth the living up here in the North.