this. Sam clutched the shotgun tightly, while Tom ran to the fire and picked up the biggest brand he could hold.
The bear advanced to the center of the gully and looked up and down suspiciously. Then he sniffed the air.
"He smells the carcass of the fox that lies outside," whispered Tom.
"Well, he must smell us, too, Tom. It's a wonder he doesn't run. Mr. Barrow said bears up here were generally shy."
"I reckon he is pretty hungry. Here he comes for the fox meat now."
Tom was right. The bear was advancing with great care, sniffing the snow-covered ground at every step. Once or twice he raised his head, as if preparing to run at the first sign of alarm.
"I'd like to bring him down!" whispered Sam.
"You can't do it with the shotgun, Sam. Be quiet! We can be thankful if he takes the fox meat and leaves us alone."
At last the bear reached the carcass. The two boys expected he would snatch it up instantly and run away, but they were mistaken. The bear sniffed it from end to end, and walked all around it.
"He's afraid of a trap, or something like that," whispered Tom. "They are pretty cute."
