tal
strength could not have sent home one blow. As it was they found
themselves facing each other over the embers of the fire, well-matched
contestants whose stake was life and whose penalty was death. The
grizzly turned his head, caught sight of Ben, identified him as the
agent of his agony, and lurched forward.

Just in time Ben sprang aside, out of the reach of those terrible
forearms; and his axe swung mightly in the air. Its blade gleamed and
descended--a blow that might have easily broken the bear's back if it
had gone true but which now seemed only to infuriate him the more. The
bear reared up, reeled, and lashed down; and dying though he was, he
struck with incredible power. One slashing stroke of that vast forepaw,
one slow closing of those cruel fangs upon skull or breast, and life
would have gone out like a light. But Ben leaped aside again, and again
swung down his axe.

These were but the first blows of a terrific battle that carried like a
storm through the still reaches of the forest. Far in the distant tree
aisles the woods people paused in their night's occupation to listen,
stirred and terrified by the throb and thrill in the air; the grazing
caribou lifted his growing horns and snorted in terror; the beasts of
prey paused in the chase, growling uneasily, gazing with fierce,
luminous eyes in the direction of the battle.

It is beyond the ken of man whether or not, in their wild hearts, these
forest folk sensed what was taking place,--that their gray monarch, the
sovereign grizzly, was at the death-fight with some dreadful invader
from the South. They heard the bear's fierce bawls, unimitatable by any
other voice as he lashed down blow after blow; and they heard the thud
and crunch of the axe against his body. Had this monarch of the trails
found his master at last?

Gazing out through the aperture of the cave Beatrice beheld the whole
picture: the ring of spruce trees, the glade so strange and ensilvered
in the moonlight, and these two fighting beasts, magnificent in fury
over the embers of the dying fire. And Ben's powers increased, rather
than lessened. Ever he swung his terrible axe with greater power.

He fought like the wolf that was his blood brother,--lunging, striking
down, recoiling out of harm's way, and springing forward to strike
again. This man was Wolf Darby, a forester known in many provinces for
his woods prowess, but even those who had seen his most spectacular
feats, in past day