e feet, ten
feet. She saw him battered, bleeding, panting, struggling to his feet
again and again to renew his losing fight. Backward and forward over
the tundra they fought, swiftly, savagely, yet despite it all ever
nearing the mound. Then all in a moment--they disappeared around the
edge of the hummock. To the girl it was as if the earth had swallowed
them. She stood for a moment bewildered. But remembering, she turned
to where she had last seen Ellen and Shane. Her sister was not in
sight, but Boreland was limping around the opposite end of the mound.
He carried no gun. Then he, too, disappeared. . . . A second later a
shot rang out--then another. After that was silence.

The sound of the rifle galvanized the girl into action. With wildly
thumping heart she sped toward the scene of the shooting, dreading what
she might find there. Rounding the hummock she stopped, staring at the
scene before her.

A few feet from the cave-like opening in the hillock, lay the great
bear dead, but with limbs still twitching. It had been shot fairly
through the shoulder and into the heart. Ellen, the rifle at her feet,
stood sobbing against her husband's breast. His sound hand patted her
back mechanically, but his eyes were fixed on something beyond.

Jean's followed them.

Loll was sitting flat on the ground beside the prostrate body of Kobuk,
holding the dog's head on his knees. Kobuk's great dark eyes, swimming
in tears of pain, were raised to the child's face, in a look so sad,
and withal so full of love that Jean started forward, a cry breaking
from her heart. From shoulder to thigh the dog was a bleeding horror
where one whole side of his faithful body had been raked by the iron
claws of the bear.

"Oh, my Kobuk! My dear doggie!" The little boy sobbed and laid his
cheek against Kobuk's head.

The dog moved slightly, and his pink tongue went out weakly to lick his
small comrade's face.

"I won't let him hurt you no more now, Kobuk," crooned Lollie,
protectingly.

Jean sank on her knees beside him.

"Kobuk--dear old--Kobuk--" she murmured brokenly, stroking a limp, hot
paw.

The dog's dimming senses must have caught the sound of his name, for
his tail moved feebly as if, with the last beat of his brave heart he
was trying to wag goodbye. . . . He lifted his head, . . . a shudder
passed through him. Then he lay still, his wide, glazing eyes fixed on
the little boy's face.

Jean buried her head in