When he came out he was himself again, if a bit sober in
expression.
He finished his packing without further words. Not till the pack
horses were ready, and Silk saddled for her, did he speak again. Then
he cast a glance at the dead bear.
"By Jove!" he remarked. "I'm about to forget my tomahawk."
He poked tentatively at the furry carcass with his toe. Hazel came up
and took a curious survey of fallen Bruin. Bill laid hold of the
hatchet and wrenched it loose.
"I've hunted more or less all my life," he observed, "and I've seen
bear under many different conditions. But this is the first time I
ever saw a bear tackle anybody without cause or warning. I guess this
beggar was strictly on the warpath, looking for trouble on general
principles."
"Was he after me?" Hazel asked.
"Well, I don't know whether he had a grudge against you," Bill smiled.
"But he was sure coming with his mouth open and his arms spread wide.
You notice I didn't take time to go after my rifle, and I'm not a
foolhardy person as a rule. I don't tackle a grizzly with a hatchet
unless I'm cornered, believe me. It was lucky he wasn't overly big.
At that, I can feel my hair stand up when I think how he would have
mussed us up if I'd missed that first swing at his head.
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