somewhat
uneasy under the cataleptic stare of the poor man's eyes--for he still
stood petrified with horror--it walked slowly round him, putting its
cold nose on his cheek, as if to tempt him to move. But the five
minutes of bewilderment that always preceded Bryan's recovery from a
sudden fright had not yet expired. He still remained perfectly
motionless, so that the bear, disdaining, apparently, to attack an
unresisting foe, dropped on his forelegs again. It is difficult to say
whether there is any truth in the well-known opinion that the calm,
steady gaze of a human eye can quell any animal. Doubtless there are
many stories, more or less authentic, corroborative of the fact; but
whether this be true or not, we are ready to vouch for the truth of
_this_ fact--namely, that under the influence of the blacksmith's gaze,
or his silence it may be, the bear was absolutely discomfited. It
retreated a step or two, and walked slowly away, looking over its
shoulder now and then as it went, as if it half anticipated an onslaught
in the rear.

We have already said that Bryan was no craven, and that when his
faculties were collected he usually displayed a good deal of reckless
valour on occasions of danger. Accordingly, no sooner did he see his
shaggy adversary in full retreat, than the truant blood returned to his
face with a degree of violence that caused it to blaze with fiery red,
and swelled the large veins of his neck and forehead almost to bursting.
Uttering a truly Irish halloo, he bounded forward like a tiger, tore
the cap off his head and flung it violently before him, drew the axe
which always hung at his belt, and in another moment stood face to face
with the white monster, which had instantly accepted the challenge, and
rose on its hind legs to receive him. Raising the axe with both hands,
the man aimed a blow at the bear's head; but with a rapid movement of
its paw it turned the weapon aside and dashed it into the air. Another
such blow, and the reckless blacksmith's career would have been brought
to an abrupt conclusion, when the crack of a rifle was heard. Its echo
reverberated along the cliffs and floated over the calm water as the
polar bear fell dead at Bryan's feet.

"Hurrah!" shouted Frank Morton, as he sprang from the bushes, knife in
hand, ready to finish the work which his rifle had so well begun. But
it needed not. Frank had hit the exact spot behind the ear which
renders a second ball unnecess