o woofs he was limping forward toward the crest of
the hill and back again. There was a strange note in the sound.
Presently he stood still, his long nose raised, wolf-like, as if to
catch a scent.

At this point Boreland stopped in the trail.

"El," he said hurriedly, "you and Jean stay right here. I'm going to
make a short-cut to the hummock. I'll bring Loll back. Mind what I
tell you, _stay_ here!"

He started swiftly across the deceptively smooth-looking tundra, his
face drawn and ashen. While Jean watched him, he slipped his rifle to
the hollow of his arm. The movement brought the thought of the bear to
the girl. Her heart thumped against her side. She glanced at Ellen,
but her sister was standing with hand-shaded eyes following the
progress of Shane who had covered nearly half the distance to the
mound. Jean turned again to the crest of the hill where Kobuk had
been. He was hobbling toward her. Even as she looked the dog stopped,
glanced behind him, then stiffened, every hair along his neck
bristling. He stood as if sniffing the wind which was blowing toward
her. Then he came on.

"Kobuk, what's the matter, Kobuk----"

The girl broke off with a gasp of terror. In a fascination of fright
her gaze became fastened on a spot beyond the advancing Kobuk.

Out of the bushes that crowned the edge of the hill a great, hairy head
was slowly rising. Followed the massive arches of shoulders, the whole
powerful body. An instant later the vast bulk of a Kodiak bear, with
low-hung swinging head, was outlined against the growth behind. A
moment it stood, looming huge, brown, fearful--the most dangerous beast
that roams the Alaskan wilderness. Then deliberately it came to its
haunches, its immense paws dangling in front, its monstrous head and
neck turning from side to side. . . . Dropping to earth again it
slouched heavily in the direction of the hummock where Lollie had
disappeared.

Jean turned swiftly to see if Boreland were aware of the proximity of
the creature, now making for the opening to its den on the other side
of the mound--a den which Loll no doubt was at that moment exploring.
Her brother-in-law was preparing to spring across one of the little
brown pools. . . . Then, to her despair, he stumbled, and one leg went
down in the soft muck of the farther edge. As he fell, he tried to
throw his rifle to the bank, but the heavy, metal-stayed butt jammed
against his hand.

Jean held her breat