The bluff sufficed. Even as Lad jumped back from close quarters
and whirled about, at sound of the voice and the shot,--the bear
dropped to all fours, with ridiculous haste; and shambled off at
very creditable speed into the tangle of undergrowth.
Not so far gone in the battle-lust had Bruin been that he cared
to risk conflict with an armed man. Twice, before, in his
somewhat long life, had he heard at close quarters the snap of a
rifle, in the forest stillness, and the whine of a bullet. Once,
such a bullet had found its mark by scoring a gouge on his scalp;
a gouge which gnats and mayflies and "no-see-'ems" and less
cleanly pests had made a torment for him, for weeks thereafter.
Bruin had a good memory. Just now, he had nothing to defend. He
was not at bay. Nor had the fight-fury possessed him to the
exclusion of sanity. Thus, he fled. And, eagerly, Lad gave chase.
But, at the very edge of the bush-rampart, the Master's call
brought the collie back, to heel, exceeding glum and reluctant.
Reproachfully, Lad gazed up at the man who had spoiled his
morning of enthralling sport.
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