42 THE HIVE OF THE BEE-HUNTER. 
tongue covered with dust and hanging a foot from his 
mouth; his jaws covered with foam and blood, and his 
eyes almost protruding from their sockets, while his 
ears were so closely pressed to the back of his head, 
that he seemed destitute of those appendages ; the whole, 
indicative of unbounded rage and terror. These 
glimpses of the bear were only momentary, his perse- 
cutors rested but for a breath, and then closed in, re- 
gardless of their own lives; for you could discover, min- 
gled with the sharp bark of defiance, the yell that told 
of death. 
It was only while the bear was crushing some luckless 
dog, that they could cover his back, and lacerate it with 
their teeth. Bob Herring, and one of the hunters, in 
spite of the danger, crept upon their knees, so near, 
that it seemed as if another foot advanced would bring 
them within the circle of the fight. 
Bob Herring was first, within safe shooting distance 
to save the dogs, and, waving his hand to those behind 
him, he raised his rifle and sighted; but his favorite dog, 
impatient for the report, anticipated it by jumping on 
the bear, which, throwing up his head at the same in- 
stant, received the ball in his nose; at the crack of the 
rifle—the well trained dogs, thinking less caution than 
otherwise necessary, jumped pell-mell on the bear’s 
back, and the hardest fight ever witnessed in Summer 
Retreat ensued; the hunter with Bob, placed his gun 
almost against the bear’s side, and the cap snapped—no 
