“I see him!” exclaimed Joel Runnell, as the bear came into view, a shaggy black fellow, weighing several hundred pounds. The animal was among the trees, and to get a fair shot at the creature was next to impossible. Boy and beast had come up to Snow Lodge on the side upon which the partly barred window was located, so it was easy for Hiram Skeetles and Dan Marcy to note what was taking place without exposing themselves to danger. “Is it really a bear?” questioned the real estate dealer, in a nervous voice. “It is,” announced Marcy. “And a right big fellow, too. Like as not he’ll give ’em a stiff fight. He looks hungry enough to tackle most anything.” “Do you—er—think he can get in here?” “Not unless he comes in by this window, and we can shoot him if he tries that.” “Let us try to close up the opening,” came from Hiram Skeetles, and he hurried to the pile of wood to get a stick for that purpose. In the meantime the bear had reached the edge of the clearing, and there he stood, upright, viewing the situation. The smell of fish was tantalizing to his empty stomach, but the sight of two human beings instead of one made him hold back. Bringing up his rifle, Joel Runnell took the best aim possible and fired. When the smoke cleared away, it was seen that the bear had been hit in the front leg, but not seriously wounded. With a growl of pain and rage, the disappointed beast dropped on all fours, turned, and sped into the woods with all the speed at his command. “Whe—where is he? Did you kill him?” gasped Fred, as he scrambled to his feet. “No; I only wounded him,” was the answer, as the old hunter reloaded the rifle with all speed. “Wait here until I see if I can’t lay him low.” “But supposing he comes back here?” “I’ll be on his heels. You can take your shotgun and climb into a tree if you wish.” Without another word Joel Runnell ran off in the direction the bear had taken, and soon the trees, bushes and deep snow hid him completely from view. “It’s funny he told me to climb a tree,” mused Fred. “It’s a good deal safer in the lodge than anywhere else, and a heap sight warmer, too,” and picking up his fish, he started to go forward, when he stopped short and gazed at the traps and stores in astonishment. “What on earth made Runnell throw these things out?” he mused. “Keep back there, Fred Rush!” came in Dan Marcy’s voice from the lodge window. “You can’t come in here, nohow!” “Hello!” ejaculated Fred. “So you are back. Did you throw out our things in this fashion?” “We did,” put in Hiram Skeetles. “And what is more, they are going to stay out. We’ve given you warning, and now I want the whole crowd of ye to clear out.” “Well, I never!” gasped the stout youth. “Of all the cheeky things to do——” “It wasn’t cheeky at all,” interrupted the real estate dealer. “As I told Runnell, this is my land, and I won’t have none o’ ye on it.” “Won’t you let me in to warm myself?” “No.”