All this Frank Haywood saw in that one glance he shot toward the scene
of action. The boy was apparently directly in the path of the hungry
bear. And when his pony had fled in such a panic he must have also
carried off the rifle, if the boy possessed so valuable a weapon.
Thus the little fellow was at the mercy of the most feared wild beast
to be found in all the territory between the Atlantic and the Pacific.
A wild inclination to hurl himself between that brute and his
prospective victim surged over Frank. With but a knife, or even a
revolver to back him up, such a rash act would have been little short
of madness. Fortunately it was not needed.
"Let me try for him, Frank!" said a trembling voice at his side.
And then, all at once, Frank Haywood discovered his chum was crouching
close by, and that he was clutching a rifle in his shaking hands. How
he had managed to get hold of the weapon Frank could not even guess,
because his own was a dozen feet away just then.
Now Bob Archer had certainly never before set eyes on a ferocious bear
outside of the circus or museum. And doubtless that brownish-colored
beast looked as big as a house to him, for he was very much excited.
But he had true Kentucky pluck, and even that circumstance did not make
him quail. If the monster had seemed to equal two houses, still would
Bob have tried to do his duty. And just then it was to save that poor
little Mexican boy.
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