"S-s-say, you a hunter, and never heard about the s-s-spring-gun trap?" exclaimed Toby, scornfully. "Well, I'll try to explain, if you give me a little t-t-time, and don't r-r-rush me too much. You see, a gun is f-f-fastened to the ground, and aiming along a certain avenue that the intended thief has just g-g-got to use in c-c-coming up to the b-b-bait.
"I g-g-guess he's eat up all my s-s-string; and now he's hunting f-f-f or the can of b-b-bait." He led them into a thick part of the wood. "L-l-look!" whispered Toby, pointing. "It is a bear, as sure as you live!" exclaimed Max. "C-c-course it is," Toby went on; "w-w-what'd you think m-m-made me run? G-g-guess I know a s-s-stump when I see one." Max held the impetuous Steve back.
"Wait," he said, "and let's all fire together. This bear isn't held by a trap, and if you only wound him there'd be a pretty kettle of fish." "Ain't no f-f-fish left; he's d-d-devoured even my b-b-bait, the old glutton!" bellowed Toby, shaking his fist toward the bear. Bruin evidently had enjoyed his unexpected meal immensely.