Balser held his ground, much frightened at Tom’s reckless bravery, but did not dare to speak. When Tom fired, the bear gave forth a fearful growl, and sprang like a wildcat right upon the boy. Tom fell to the ground upon his back, and the bear stood over him. The dogs quickly made an attack, and Balser hesitated to fire, fearing that he might kill Tom or one of the dogs. Then came Jim, who rushed past Balser toward Tom and the bear, and if Jim’s courage had ever before been doubted, all such doubts were upon that night removed forever. The little fellow carried in his hand Tom’s hatchet, and without fear or hesitancy he ran to the bear and began to strike him with all his little might. Meantime poor, prostrate Tom was crying piteously for help, and, now that Jim was added to the group, it seemed impossible for Balser to fire at the bear. But no time was to be lost. If Balser did not shoot, Tom certainly would be killed in less than ten seconds. So, without stopping to take thought, and upon the impulse of one of those rare intuitions under the influence of which persons move so accurately, Balser lifted his gun to his shoulder. He could see the bear’s head plainly as it swayed from side to side, just over Tom’s throat, and it seemed that he could not miss his aim. Almost without looking, he pulled the trigger. He felt the rebound of the gun and heard the report breaking the heavy silence of the night. Then he dropped the gun upon the snow and covered his face with his hands, fearing to see the result of his shot. He stood for a moment trembling. The dogs had stopped barking; the bear had stopped growling; Jim had ceased to cry out; Tom had ceased his call for help, and the deep silence rested upon Balser’s heart like a load of lead. He could not take his hands from his face. After a moment he felt Jim’s little hand upon his arm, and Tom said, as he drew himself from beneath the bear, “Balser, there’s no man or boy living but you that could have made that shot in the moonlight.” Then Balser knew that he had killed the bear, and he sank upon the snow and wept as if his heart would break. Notwithstanding the intense cold, the excitement of battle had made the boys unconscious of it, and Tom and Jim stood by Balser’s side as he sat upon the snow, and they did not feel the sting of the night. Poor little Jim, who was so given to grumbling, much to the surprise of his companions fell upon his knees, and said, “Don’t cry, Balser, don’t cry,” although the tears were falling over the little fellow’s own cheeks. “Don’t cry any more, Balser, the bear is dead all over. I heard the bullet whiz past my ears, and I heard it strike the bear’s head just as plain as you can hear that owl hoot; and then I knew that you had saved Tom and me, because nobody can shoot as well as you can.” The little fellow’s tenderness and his pride in Balser seemed all the sweeter, because it sprang from his childish gruffness.