Sunset Ranch: A Story of a Boy's Adventures in the West — page 249: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

The Stampede. 237 like a prize fighter who has been somewhat dazed by a hard blow. “All up. Me finish um!” cried the Indian. “Spoils for me. Heno harm now. Watch.” “Look out!” yelled Karl. “The feller’s not dead by a long way, and if you get within reach of him he’ll Ah! you'll be careful next time!” Little Buckshot made the mistake of believing the monster had received his death wound, and, filled with the desire to have a hand in the game, so that he might wear the honors in the shape of a bear’s claws necklace, he swooped down upon Bruin, knife in hand. Once, twice, thrice, did he thrust his steel blade into the hairy side of the grizzly, and then received a blow that sent him spinning like a teetotum or a Dancing Dervish to the other side of the cavern. “Now, it’s my turn again, I suppose,” said Karl. Two shots more and he would be done. . If they failed to finish the game, it threatened to be a most serious business indeed. The bear was once more advancing. Not so rap- idly as at first, since these various wounds appeared to have weakened him considerably. Once, twice, the gun was discharged. At the same time, Little Buckshot, recovering from the shock and astonishment caused by his sud- den, dizzy fling, rushed forward once more to the attack, burning to give old Bruin as good as he sent. As luck would have it the bear, in making his groggy advance, floundered through the midst of the cheery little fire, sending its elements in every direction, and a state of semi-darkness added its horrors to the situation. Karl had dropped his now useless gun and fallen back upon that last defense of the prairie man at bay—his hunting knife. He knew the bear was upon him, with terrible Comiclbooolkks CO