e,
fingers, and teeth, he partly skinned the bear--often compelled to pause
to save himself from fainting with pain--and cut from the warm but not
very thick layer of fat a broad slab, which, after bathing the wounds at
a near-by pool, he bound firmly to the little one's back, using the torn
night-gown for a bandage.

He cut the flannel lining from his coat, and from that of the sleeves
made nether garments for the little limbs, doubling the surplus length
over the ankles and tying in place with rope-yarns from a boat-lacing.
The body lining he wrapped around her waist, inclosing the arms, and
around the whole he passed turn upon turn of canvas in strips, marling
the mummy-like bundle with yarns, much as a sailor secures chafing-gear
to the doubled parts of a hawser--a process when complete, that would
have aroused the indignation of any mother who saw it. But he was only a
man, and suffering mental and physical anguish.

By the time he had finished, the child had recovered consciousness, and
was protesting its misery in a feeble, wailing cry. But he dared not
stop--to become stiffened with cold and pain. There was plenty of fresh
water from melting ice, scattered in pools. The bear would furnish food;
but they needed fire, to cook this food, keep them warm, and the
dangerous inflammation from their hurts, and to raise a smoke to be seen
by passing craft.

He recklessly drank from the bottle, needing the stimulant, and
reasoning, perhaps rightly, that no ordinary drug could affect him in
his present condition; then he examined the wreckage--most of it good
kindling wood. Partly above, partly below the pile, was a steel
lifeboat, decked over air-tight ends, now doubled to more than a right
angle and resting on its side. With canvas hung over one half, and a
small fire in the other, it promised, by its conducting property, a
warmer and better shelter than the bridge. A sailor without matches is
an anomaly. He whittled shavings, kindled the fire, hung the canvas and
brought the child, who begged piteously for a drink of water.

He found a tin can--possibly left in a leaky boat before its final hoist
to the davits--and gave her a drink, to which he had added a few drops
of the whisky. Then he thought of breakfast. Cutting a steak from the
hindquarters of the bear, he toasted it on the end of a splinter and
found it sweet and satisfying; but when he attempted to feed the child,
he understood the necessity of freeing its