cept their retreat, and probably secure at least one victim before they could get back to their refuge in the water.
The bear had lain there in tense expectancy for perhaps a dozen minutes when suddenly, just beneath his nose, the grey-green sea surged heavily. A huge, glistening, rusty black head shot upward, almost in the watcher's face; and he found himself confronted by the hideous, tusked and whiskered mask of a gigantic bull-walrus.
The two massive yellow tusks growing downward from the mighty upper jaw of the walrus were over two feet in length, straight, gleaming, and tapered to a fine point. The long, stiff whiskers standing out on each side of the muzzle were thick as porcupine quills. The small, steady eyes, set deep in the low-crowned skull, flamed into sudden rage as they found themselves staring into the fierce eyes of the bear.
For some seconds the two great beasts, thus brought so startlingly face to face, eyed each other unwaveringly without a movement on either side. The bear, in the first wrath of his disappointment, itched to slash across that grotesque and defiant mask with his rending paws. But his sagacity, well trained in the harsh struggle of arctic life, restrained him. Presently he shifted his gaze for a swift instant, and noted that the surface of the sea all about the edge of the floe was dotted with
