"'Run, boys, run!' she screams. 'Never mind the water! Drop it and run! There's a b'ar in the yard! Run! Run!'

"And them boys _did_ run, but they held fast to their bucket and brought most of the water inter the house with 'em. Then Miss Sally barred that door, too, and they all went to the winder and peeped out. There was Mister B'ar snoopin' about the yard, and lookin' almost as big as one of the steers.

"He went a-sniffin' about the yard, smellin' of everything like b'ars do when they're forragin', s'archin' for somethin' ter tempt his appet.i.te. Suddenly he stood stock still, raised his big head, and sniffed the air keen-like. Then he growled and went straight for the pig-pen.

"'Oh, the pigs! the pigs!' squealed one of the boys. 'The nice pigs!

He'll eat 'em all up!'

"And there was a good reason for their takin' on," said Jerry, "for their next winter's meat was in that pen--a sow and five plump little porkers.

"'Oh, Aunty Sally,' cries one of the bigger boys, 'What shall we do?

What'll father say when he comes back and finds the pigs killed?'

"Ye see," continued Long Jerry, shaking his head, "it was a tragedy to them. You folks livin' in town don't understand what it means for a farmer to lose his pigs. Old Bennett warn't no hunter, and wild meat ain't like hog-meat, anyway. If the b'ar got those porkers them young 'uns would go mighty hungry the next winter.

"Miss Sally, she knew that, all right, and when the boy says: 'What shall we do?' she made up her mind pretty quick that she'd got to _try_ ter do sumpin'--yes, sir-ree! She run for her brother's rifle that hung over the other door.

"'I'm goin' to try and shoot that b'ar, boys,' says she, jest as firm as she could speak.

"'Oh, Aunt Sally! you can't,' says Tom, the oldest.

"'I don't know whether I can or not till I try,' says she. She felt like Miss Ruthie did--eh?" and the long guide chuckled. "No tellin'

whether you kin do a thing, or not, till you have a whack at it.

"'Don't you try it, Aunt Sally,' says Charlie. 'He might kill you.'

"'I won't give him a chance at me,' says she. 'Now boys, let me out and mind jest what I say. If anything _does_ happen to me, don't you dars't come out, but go in and bar the door again, and stay till your father comes back. Now, promise me!'

"She made 'em promise before she ventured out of the door, and then she left 'em at the open door, jest about breathless with suspense and terror, while Miss Sally sped across the yard toward the pig-pen.

Mister Ba'r, he'd torn down some of the pine slabs at one corner and got into the pen. The old sow was singin' out like all Kildee, and the little fellers was a-squealin' to the top o' their bent. The b'ar smacked one o' the juicy little fellers and begun to lunch off'n him jest as Miss Sally come to the other end o' the pen.

"His back was towards her and he didn't notice nothin' but his pork vittles," pursued Long Jerry. "She crept up beside him, poked the barrel of the Winchester through the bars of the pen, rested it on one bar, and pulled the trigger. The ball went clear through the old feller's head!

"But it takes more'n one lucky shot to kill a full grown brown b'ar," Jerry said, shaking his head. "He turned like a flash, and with a horrid roar, made at her, dropping the pig. His huge carca.s.s smashing against the pen fence, snapped a white-oak post right off at the ground, and felled two lengths of the fence.

"But Miss Sally didn't give up. She backed away, but she kept shootin' until she had put three more b.a.l.l.s into his big carca.s.s. He sprung through the broke-down fence to get at her; but jest as he got outside, the blood spouted out of his mouth, and he fell down, coughing and dying. 'Twas all over in ten seconds, then."

"My goodness!" gasped Jennie Stone. "How dreadful."

"But wasn't she a brave girl?" cried Helen.

"Not a bit braver than Ruthie," said her twin, stoutly.

"I could almost forgive you for spoiling our taffy after that, Master Tom," declared Helen. "Is that all the story, Mr. Todd?" she added, as the long guide rose up to go.

"Pretty near all, I reckon, Missy," he returned. "n.o.body didn't never say Sally Bennett was afraid, after she'd saved Bill's meat for him. And that ol' b'ar pelt was a coverin' on her bed till she was married, I reckon. But things like that don't happen around here now-a-days. B'ars ain't so common--and mebbe gals ain't so brave,"

and he went away, chuckling.

CHAPTER XVIII

"THE AMAZON MARCH"

There had been no open battle between the girls and the boys over the spoiled taffy; but that night, when the six friends from Briarwood Hall retired to their big sleeping room, they seriously discussed what course they should take with the three scamps who had played them so mean a trick; for even Helen admitted that one boy was probably as guilty as another.

"And that Isadore Phelps had the cheek to ask me how I liked the taffy!" exclaimed Heavy. "I could have shaken him!"

"The panther scare spoiled their 'gloat' over us, that's a fact,"

said Madge Steele. "But I intimated to that brother of mine that I proposed to see the matter squared up before we left Snow Camp."

"I'd like to know how we'll get the best of them?" complained Lluella.

"That's so! Mrs. Murchiston won't let us have any freedom," said Belle. "She's on the watch."

"I expect she would object if we tried anything very 'brash,'" said Heavy. "We have got to be sly about it."

"I do not know how much at fault Tom and Mr. Steele are," said Ruth, quietly. "But so much has happened since they spoiled the candy, that I had all but forgotten the trick."

"There now! Ruth will forgive, of course," said Helen, sharply. "But I won't. They ought to be paid back."

"Wouldn't it be best to just cut them right out of our good times?"

suggested Belle.

"But won't that cut us out of their good times?" urged Heavy. "And boys always do think up better fun than girls."

"I never would admit it!" cried Madge.

"You always have been a regular Tom-boy, Jennie," said Lluella.

"You ought to be ashamed to say such a thing, Miss Stone," added Belle.

"Well, don't they?" demanded the unabashed stout girl.

"Then it's because we girls don't put ourselves out to think up new and nice things to do," proclaimed Madge Steele.

"Perhaps girls are not as naturally inventive as boys," suggested Ruth, timidly.

"I won't admit it!" cried Madge.

"At least," said the girl from the Red Mill,

"We don't want to do anything mean to them just because they were mean to us."

"Why not?" demanded Belle, in wonder.

"That wouldn't be nice--nor any fun," declared Ruth, firmly. "A joke--yes."