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Jack now deemed it prudent to bring the scene to a close, so, calming himself as well as he could, he took a steady aim, and, watching his opportunity, fired.

The bear did not fall. It faced round in a moment, and, uttering a fierce growl, very unlike to its previous tones, rushed upon its enemy, who fired his second barrel at the creature’s breast. Whether it was that Jack’s fit of laughter had shaken his nerves so as to render him incapable of taking a good aim, is a matter of uncertainty, but although both shots took effect, the bear was not checked in his career. On it came. Jack had no time to load. He turned to run, when his quick eye observed a branch of a tree over his head within reach. Dropping his gun he bounded upwards and caught it, and, being unusually powerful in the arms, drew himself up and got astride of it just as the bear reached the spot. But bruin was not to be baulked so easily. He was a black bear and a good climber. Finding that he could not at his utmost stretch obtain a nibble at Jack’s toes, he rushed at the trunk of the tree and began to ascend rapidly. Jack at once moved towards the end of the branch, intending to drop to the ground, recover his gun and run for it; but the movement broke the branch off suddenly, and he came down with such a crash, that the bear stopped, looked round, and, seeing his enemy on the ground, began to descend.

Although somewhat stunned by the fall, our hero was able to spring up and run in the direction of the hut. The bear was so close on his heels, however, that he had no chance of his reaching it. He felt this, and, as a last resource, doubled on his track like a hare and made for the banks of the river, which were twenty feet high at the place, intending to leap into the rapid and take his chance.

In this, too, he was foiled. His fall from the tree had partially disabled him, and he could not run with his wonted agility. About ten yards from the edge of the bank the bear overtook him, and it seemed as if poor Jack Robinson’s troubles were at last about to be brought to an abrupt close. But Jack was self-possessed and brave as steel. On feeling the bear’s claws in his back, he drew his knife, wheeled round, fell into its embrace, and plunged the knife three or four times in its side. The thing was done in a moment, and the two, falling together, rolled over the edge of the steep bank, and went crashing down through the bushes amid a cloud of dust and stones into the raging flood below. At the foot of the rapid, Marteau and one of the men happened to be rowing ashore with a load of fish.

“Hallo! what’s that?” cried Marteau.

“Eh!” exclaimed his comrade.

“A bear!” shouted Marteau, backing his oar.

“And a man! What! I say!”

“Pull! pull!”

Next moment the boat was dancing on the foam, and Marteau had hold of the bear’s neck with one hand, and Jack’s hair with the other.

They were soon hauled to land, the bear in its dying agonies and Jack in a state of insensibility; but it took the united strength of the two men to tear him from the tremendous grasp that he had fastened on the brute, and his knife was found buried to the handle close alongside of bruin’s heart!

CHAPTER SEVEN.

SOLITUDE.

On the day of his encounter with the bear, Jack Robinson sent Rollo up to the fort to fetch down all the men except O’Donel, in order that the fishery might be carried on with vigour.