But he
neither intended to run away himself nor to allow the bear to do so;
he intended to kill it, so he raised his rifle quickly, "drew a bead,"
as the hunters express it, on the bear's heart, and fired.
It immediately dropped on its fore legs and rushed at him. "Back,
Crusoe! out of the way, pup!" shouted Dick, as his favourite was about
to spring forward.
The dog retired, and Dick leaped behind a tree. As the bear passed he
gave it the contents of the second barrel behind the shoulder, which
brought it down; but in another moment it rose and again rushed at
him. Dick had no time to load, neither had he time to spring up the
thick tree beside which he stood, and the rocky nature of the ground
out of which it grew rendered it impossible to dodge round it. His
only resource was flight; but where was he to fly to? If he ran along
the open track, the bear would overtake him in a few seconds. On the
right was a sheer precipice one hundred feet high; on the left was an
impenetrable thicket. In despair he thought for an instant of clubbing
his rifle and meeting the monster in close conflict; but the utter
hopelessness of such an effort was too apparent to be entertained for
a moment.
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