We've promised Mrs. Melton a big mess of
fish for supper, and we've got to get busy, or she'll think we're a lot
of four-flushers."
They picked up their traps that they had laid aside while they were
studying the bark. Tom and Dick kept up a steady fire of jokes, their
spirits lightened by the evidence that the "ghost" of the grizzly had
been "laid." But Bert answered only in monosyllables. He would have been
as relieved as they had he been able to convince himself that he was
wrong. He "hadn't lost any bear," and was not particularly anxious to
"meet up" with one, especially a monster of the size indicated. Suddenly
he dropped the basket.
"I've got it," he exclaimed eagerly.
"No, you haven't," contradicted Dick. "You've just dropped it."
"What have you got?" mocked Tom. "A fit?"
"The answer," said Bert.
"Prove it," challenged Dick.
"I'm from Missouri," said Tom skeptically.
"Why, it's this way," hurried on Bert, too engrossed in his solution to
retort in kind. "Sandy was telling me a little while ago about the habits
of grizzlies, and he mentioned especially the trick they have of standing
on their hind legs and clawing at trees as high as they could reach.
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