"Hat she petter leave tat?" he sighed, as he looked at it longingly and passed his tongue over his lips. "Nay, if she toes, they'll expeckit mair; put if there's nane they winna say a word. She'll hae to eat tat, too." The piece was half done, and he turned it, inhaling its delicious odour as he gloated over the brown side, and then took out his biscuits and had them ready. "Chust to fanish off," he said, smiling faintly. "She'll chust pit it atween twa biscuit, an' mak' a santwich of it, an' then--Yah!" Watty uttered an unearthly yell, for a great shadow fell across the fire at that moment, and he was thrust sidewise, to fall just clear of the fire upon his face. "The pears--the pears!" he groaned. "What shall she to?" But he did not stir, neither did he see that the piece of hot meat had been literally snatched off the fire, and a crunching sound told him that a pair of strong jaws, with great, white teeth that in imagination he could see gleaming, were grinding up the biscuits that were to form the _finale_ of his meal. "The pear always hugs her pefore she eats her oop," thought Watty, as he lay there shivering with dread, this being the only movement he could contrive, feeling as he did that if he attempted to escape the great animal would seize him. Then he recollected reading about a traveller pretending to be dead, and lying face downward till a bear in pursuit overtook him, smelled him over, and then went away. "She lie as tet as a toornail," thought Watty; and he tried to hold his breath as he waited for the bear to come. But it was evidently too busy with the food, crunching up the biscuits and finishing the meat. "Oh, if she could only lie still an' not preathe a pit!" said the lad to himself. "She can't, an' it makes a noise. She wishes the pear would come an' smell her an' go." But the new arrival was too busy, and made Watty, as he lay there on his face, moist with perspiration, wonder how so big a beast could be so long eating so small a quantity of food. At last the boy felt as if he could endure no more, and that he must make a leap to his feet and run for his life. He knew that the thing to do would be to draw a very deep breath, make a sudden effort, and run, for the suffering from lying there those brief minutes, which seemed to be like hours, was more than he could endure. He had made up his mind to try, but his heart sank, and he lay a little longer. A second time he tried to screw himself up to the sticking-point, but failed, and lay panting, till all at once, just as he was saying to himself, "She must to it ta third time," the bear uttered a low "Ah-ah-ah!" and the lad sprang to his feet. "That's right, Watty; get me a drink of water."