ject passed over my face, scorching the skin; there
was a smell as of singeing hair; I could hear voices, mixed with the
roars of my adversary; and all at once the claws were drawn out of my
flesh, the weight was lifted from my breast, and I was alone!

"I rose to my feet, and, rubbing the snow out of my eyes, looked around.
I could see no one. I was in a deep hollow made by our struggles, but
I was alone!

"The snow all around me was dyed to a crimson; but what had become of my
terrible antagonist? Who had rescued me from his deadly embrace?

"I staggered forward to the open ground. Here a new scene met my gaze:
a strange-looking man was running across the platform, with a huge
firebrand,--the bole of a burning pine-tree,--which he waved in the air.
He was chasing one of the hears, that, growling with rage and pain, was
making every effort to reach the cliffs. Two others were already
half-way up, and evidently clambering with great difficulty, as the
blood dripped back from their wounded flanks.

"The bear that was pursued soon took to the rocks, and, urged by the red
brand scorching his shaggy hams, was soon beyond the reach of his
pursuer. The latter now made towards a fourth, that was still battling
with two or three weak antagonists. This one was `routed' in a
twinkling, and with yells of terror followed his comrades up the bluff.
The strange man looked around for the fifth. It had disappeared.
Prostrate, wounded men were strewed over the ground, but the bear was
nowhere to be seen. He had doubtless escaped through the snow.

"I was still wondering who was the hero of the firebrand, and where he
had come from. I have said he was a strange-looking man. He was so--
and like no one of our party that I could think of. His head was
bald,--no, not bald, but naked,--there was not a hair upon it, crown or
sides, and it glistened in the clear light like polished ivory. I was
puzzled beyond expression, when a man--Garey--who had been felled upon
the platform by a blow from one of the bears, suddenly sprang to his
feet, exclaiming,--

"`Go it, Doc! Three chyars for the doctor!'

"To my astonishment, I now recognised the features of that individual,
the absence of whose brown locks had produced such a metamorphosis as, I
believe, was never effected by means of borrowed hair.

"`Here's your scalp, Doc,' cried Garey, running up with the wig, `by the
livin' thunder! yer saved us all;' and the hunter seized th