David stopped tugging at the oars and looked over his shoulder; Bert caught up his father's double-barrel and hastily loaded it with two cartridges containing buckshot; while Don, after bringing the canoe broadside to the island, dropped the paddle with which he was steering, and picked up his rifle.
"He's there yet," said Bert.

"The hounds have scented him already." "It looks like it," replied Don.

"Well, we came here to find him, and if he drives us away to-day he'll have to fight to do it.

Dave, you'd better load up--Bert has plenty of loose buckshot in his pocket--and mind you now, fellows, don't get excited and shoot the dogs.

I'd rather let the bear go than have one of them hurt." While David was loading his single-barrel--his hands trembled a little, and it took him longer than usual to do it--Don and Bert sat with their guns across their knees, closely watching the island, while the hounds stood in the bow snuffing the air.