"Well, now," he roared, "'twere as fine a race as I ever see--as I
_ever_ see--an' ye were handy t' winnin' but for th' tumble. A rare
fine race."

Bob was rather shamefaced, for an old hunter would scarcely have
forgotten himself to such an extent as to go bear hunting with a
partridge load in his gun, and he did not like to be laughed at.

"Anyhow," said he, "I let un have un first. An' I led un down where
you could shoot un. An' he's a good fat un," he commented kicking the
carcass.

Ed and Bill had arrived now and all hands went to work at once
skinning the bear.

"Speakin' o' bein' chased by bears," remarked Ed as they worked, "onct
I were chased pretty hard myself an' that time I come handy t' bein'
done for sure enough."

"An' how were that?" asked Bob.

"'Twere one winter an' I were tendin' my trail. I stops at noon t'
boil th' kettle, an' just has th' fire goin' fine an' th' water over
when all t' a sudden I hears a noise behind me and turnin' sees a
black bear right handy t' me--th' biggest black bear I ever seen--an'
makin' fer me. I jumps up an' grabs my gun an' lets un have it, but
wi' th' suddenness on it I misses, an' away I starts an' 'twere lucky
I has my racquets on."

"Were this in _winter_?" asked Dick.