Balser also started to run, but thought better of it, and turned to give battle to the bear, fully determined to act slowly and deliberately, and to make no mistake about his aim. [Illustration: “’Lordy, Balser! It’s the one-eared bear.’”] He knew that a false aim would end his own days, and would add one more victim to the already long list of the one-eared bear. The dogs barked furiously at the bear, and did not give Balser an opportunity to shoot. The bear and dogs were gradually moving farther away from Balser, and almost before he knew it the three had disappeared in the thicket. Balser was loath to follow until Tom should return, so he called in an undertone:— “Tom! Limpy!” Soon Tom cautiously came back, peering fearfully about him, hatchet in hand, ready to do great execution upon the bear—he afterward said. “You’re a pretty hunter, you are. You’d better go home and get an ax. The bear has got away just because I had to wait for you,” said Balser, only too glad to have some one to blame for the bear’s escape. The boys still heard the dogs barking, and hurried on after them as rapidly as the tangle of undergrowth would permit. Now and then they caught a glimpse of the bear, only to lose it again as he ran down a ravine or through a dense thicket. The dogs, however, kept in close pursuit, and loudly called to their master to notify him of their whereabouts. The boys and bears played at this exciting game of hide-and-seek for two or three hours, but Balser had no opportunity for a good shot, and Tom found no chance to use his deadly hatchet. When the bear showed a disposition to run away rather than to fight, Limpy grew brave, and talked himself into a high state of heroism. It was an hour past noon and the boys were laboriously climbing a steep ascent in pursuit of the bear and dogs, which they could distinctly see a few yards ahead of them, at the top of a hill. The underbrush had become thinner, although the shadow of the trees was deep and dark, and Balser thought that at last the bear was his. He repeated over and over to himself his father’s advice: “When you attack a bear, be slow and deliberate. Do nothing in a hurry. Don’t shoot until you’re sure of your aim.” He remembered vividly his hasty shot when he wounded the bear on Conn’s Creek, and his narrow escape from death at that time had so impressed upon him the soundness of his father’s advice, that he repeated it night and morning with his prayers. When he saw the bear at the top of the hill, so close to him, he raised his gun to his shoulder and held it there for a moment, awaiting a chance for a sure shot. But disappointment, instead of the bear, was his, for while he held his gun ready to fire, the bear suddenly disappeared, as if the earth had opened and swallowed him. It all happened so quickly that even the dogs looked astonished. Surely, this _was_ a demon bear.