. . . Say, youngster, now you've got him, what in
thunder will you do with him?"
I looked at my torn trousers, at the blood on my skinned and burning hands,
and I felt of the bruise on my head, as I said, grimly: "I'll hang to him
as long as I can."
XIII. THE CABIN IN THE FOREST
Hiram Bent packed the cub down the canyon as he would have handled a sack
of oats. When we reached the cabin he fastened a heavy dog-collar round
Cubby's neck and snapped a chain to it. Doubling the halter, he tied one
end to the chain and the other to a sturdy branch of a tree. This done, he
slipped the thongs off the bear.
"Thar! He'll let you pet him in a few days mebbe," he said.
Our captive did not yet show any signs of becoming tame. No sooner was he
free of the buckskin thongs than he leaped away, only to be pulled up by the
halter. Then he rolled over and over, clawing at the chain, and squirming
to get his head out of the collar.
"He might choke hisself," said Hiram, "but mebbe he'll ease up if we stay
away from him. Now we've got to rustle to skin them two bears."
So, after giving me a hunting-knife, and telling me to fetch my rifle, he
set off up the canyon. As I trudged along behind him I spoke of Dick
Leslie, and asked if there were not some way to get him out of the clutches
of the lumber thieves.
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