"We've got him!" yelled Hiram. "Don't move--step on his nose if he gets too
close."
Then I saw the halter had come off the bear and had fallen to the ground.
Hiram picked it up, arranged the noose, and, holding it in his teeth began
to limb after the bear. Cubby was now only a few feet under me, working
steadily up, growling, and his little eyes were like points of green fire.
"Stop him! Stand on his head!" mumbled Hiram, with the rope in his teeth.
"What!--not on your life!"
But, reaching up, I grasped a branch, and, swinging clear of the lower one,
I began to kick at the bear. This stopped him. Then he squealed, and began
to kick on his own account. Hiram was trying to get the noose over a bind
foot. After several attempts he succeeded, and then threw the rope over the
lowest branch. I gave a wild Indian yell of triumph. The next instant,
before I could find a foothold, the branch to which I was hanging snapped
like a pistol-shot, and I plunged down with a crash. I struck the bear and
the lower branch, and then the ground. The fall half stunned me. I thought
every bone in my body was broken. I rose unsteadily, and for a moment
everything whirled before my eyes. Then I discovered that the roar in my
ears was the old hunter's yell. I saw him hauling on the rope.
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