Читать книгу Trail and Trading Post; or, The Young Hunters of the Ohio онлайн

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“No, but I—I hurt my ankle,” panted Henry. He gave his leg a pull. “Oh! But that hurts!”

“The bear is out of it,” said Dave. He came closer. “Hullo, your foot is caught. Let me help you. I reckon we have seen the last of that buffalo.”

“I don’t know about that, Dave. We both hit him, and the bear gave him something to remember her by.”

“Poor beast! She certainly did what she could for her cubs. Just look at them now!”

It was an affecting sight. The mother bear had passed away and both of the cubs had crawled forth from the den and were licking her face and pushing her form with their little noses. Then both began to whine once more. Neither seemed to think of running away.

Dave set down his gun and helped Henry to release his caught foot. Then they took off the legging and the shoe. The ankle had begun to swell and there was a deep scratch on one side.

“Can you step on it?” asked Dave, and his cousin tried to do so. He caught his breath and gave a gasp.

“Like pins and needles going through my leg!” he announced. “Oh, what luck! And we didn’t get the buffalo after all!” he added, ruefully.