ling and fighting together behind the hummock back of which the bear had slid. The hunters ran closer and saw the dogs. They were not tearing the animal that had been shot. Two of the beasts seemed giving battle to the other three to keep them away from the still heap on the ice; the two large dogs fought off the three and themselves made no effort to tear the bear, but circled, uglily snarling and watching the other brutes.
Brunton bawled to these to call them off; the dogs came a little away and then ran back. The bear now seemed not so huge as when it stood on the ridge. It was much smaller, and as the hunters came closer and the moonlight showed it against the snow it was not so white.
Indeed, it was dark and with one paw—which was not a paw at all but a skin-clothed arm—stretching away from the body.
"Man!" Geoff cried hoarsely, and stumbled forward. "A man! We shot a man!"
"Man!" Brunton roared as he ran up.
The dogs now were about him and obeyed.
"Man?" Latham cried.
They all now saw a rifle, which had been
