"Don't take them, sir," said Mrs. Murchiston. "I shan't feel safe
for them again until we get out of these woods."

"Why, Mis' Murchiston," drawled Long Jerry, who had come into the
hall with a great armful of wood, "there ain't a mite of danger now.
That panther's killed--deader'n last Thanksgivin's turkey. There may
not be another around here for half a score of years."

"But they say there are bears in the woods," cried the governess.

"Aw, shucks!" returned the woodsman. "What's a b'ar? B'ar's is
us'ally as skeery as rabbits, unless they are mighty hungry. And ye
don't often meet a hungry bear this time o' year. They are mostly
housed up for the winter in some warm hole."

"But what would these girls do if they met a bear, Mr. Todd?" asked
Mr. Cameron, laughing.

"Why, this here leetle Ruth Fielding gal, _she'd_ have pluck
enough to shoot him, I reckon," chuckled Long Jerry. "And she
wouldn't be the first girl that's shot a full growed b'ar right in
this neighborhood."

"I thought you said there wasn't any around here, Jerry?" cried Helen.

"This happened some time ago, Miss," returned the woodsman. "And it
happened right over yon at Bill Bennett's farm--not four mile from
here. Sally Bennett was a plucky one, now I tell ye. And pretty--wal,
I was a jedge of female loveliness in them days," went on Long Jerry,