In front of him was a huge fallen
spruce tree, with its roots projecting outward, like spokes in a great
wheel. This tree had been lying there for years, and across it had
fallen numerous small saplings and dead branches, until from a distance
it assumed the appearance of a native African hut.
The roots of this tree were only a few feet from the edge of the steep
gravelly bank, and this, together with a furious gale, had been the
cause of the spruce's fall. Between two of the perpendicular roots,
which were partly embedded in the ground, was a large hole, before
which Gyp was making all the fuss. The stiff hairs on his back stood
straight on end, and he kept leaping constantly forward and backward,
wild with excitement.
With considerable difficulty the captain thrust the dog aside, and with
the rifle firmly clutched in his hands, he stooped in order to obtain a
view of what was within. Scarcely had he done so, ere a deep growl and
roar startled him, while at the same time a large black bear hurled
itself like a catapult from among the roots.
Taken by complete surprise, the captain reeled backward, dropping the
rifle as he did so in an effort to maintain his balance. Before he
could do this, however, he had gone over the edge of the bank, and
after him went the bear.
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