Gulf and Glacier; or, The Percivals in Alaska. Willis Boyd Allen

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СКАЧАТЬ there!” cried Tom; “that’ll do, old fellow. You’re too heavy for me. Get down!”

      A low growl from a shaggy throat within three inches of Tom’s ear, was the only reply.

      Tom held up his last lump of sugar, and while his unwelcome comrade-in-arms was crunching it, strove to wriggle himself from the bear’s embrace.

      It was of no use. The big, furry necklace only clasped the more tightly, and the menacing growl came again deeper than before.

      The boy’s courage began to fail him. He looked down at the two great paws on his chest, armed with long, sharp claws. The bear’s breath came hot and fast on the back of his neck.

      “Halloo! help!” shouted Tom desperately.

      A savage snarl from the rear told him that a repetition of the cry might be fatal to him. The bear’s patience began to give out. The growls came nearer together, and more angrily. Every moment Tom expected to feel those long, white teeth in his scalp. To make matters worse, he now seemed to remember the words the hotel man had shouted after him, though he had paid no attention to them at the time.

      If Randolph and the rest would only come! It was not like a fight with a wild bear. That would be bad enough. But to be killed by a chained beast, as a result of his own folly!

      Both hope and courage were at the lowest ebb, and the danger really very great, when Tom’s hand felt in the lining of his coat a hard bunch.

      Cautiously, with trembling hands, he ripped out the lining and extracted – a solitary lump of sugar which had slipped down through a hole in his pocket.

      He held it out at arms-length. After a fruitless attempt to support himself with one paw and reach the sugar with the other, the bear relaxed his hold and dropped upon all fours.

      To fling down the sugar and dart out of the radius of that hard-trodden circle was the work of a moment. Tom was safe!

      The bear sprang after him, his little eyes twinkling with rage; but the chain held fast, and his late captive left him sprawling among the stumps.

      I am not sure that Tom would have told this story at all, had not Randolph, one or two nights later, caught sight of ten red marks on his room-mate’s breast. Then it all came out, as you have it.

      During the struggle with Bruin the sky had darkened, and it now began to rain heavily.

      CHAPTER V.

      A KING’S DAUGHTER IN A FREIGHT CAR

      When Randolph and his party came rushing with shouts of laughter from the woods, they were joined by Tom, who was in an unusually meek mood. Fred looked at him suspiciously, but forbore to ask any questions.

      The rain was coming down smartly, and all hands gathered, panting and laughing, around the generous fire in the little hotel office. “Where’s Bessie?” asked Mr. Percival, as soon as he could make his voice heard above the merry clamor.

      “Oh! she’s just behind, with Mr. Selborne,” said Kittie. “Randolph, look out of the door to see if they are in sight.”

      “They’ll get dreadfully wet,” remarked Pet. “Why didn’t they keep up?”

      “Oh! Bess wanted to go up the glacier a little farther. I saw her pointing to a big rock” —

      “And of course he went,” added Fred demurely.

      Mr. Percival looked worried. His nephew reported that the missing couple were not in sight.

      “It’s growing darker every moment,” he remarked anxiously. “I must go and look for them.”

      Two strong young fellows who were employed about the hotel went with him. Leaving the jolly group around the fire, we will accompany the relief party. Those who prefer cosiness and warmth may stay behind!

      The contrast was sharp, indeed, as Mr. Percival stepped out-of-doors with his two companions.

      The sky was filled with black clouds, that rolled down the valley or hung in threatening masses along the lofty mountain slopes.

      As they entered the forest they had to step carefully, lest they should stumble on some root or stone, half-hidden in the darkness. Through the boughs of the trees the rain dripped drearily.

      They plodded on for over a mile, when they caught sight of a flickering light, appearing and vanishing, like a will-o’-the-wisp.

      The two men from the hotel did not know what to make of it, but Mr. Percival guessed the source of the strange flame in a moment.

      “They’ve built a fire,” he said quietly. “Or, at least, Bess has. I don’t believe the minister could do it, this wet night, if he tried!”

      He could, though, as Captain Bess soon found out, when he had stopped to rest in the edge of the forest. About fifty feet from the path was a huge bowlder draped with ferns, with the top slightly overhanging its base.

      To the shelter of this great rock the young clergyman had borne his charge, placing her on a dry cushion of moss and fir needles, where the faintness soon left her, though the pain did not. He had then busied himself in a wonderfully handy way, collecting dry stuff from beneath the bowlder, and in five minutes had a glorious fire snapping and crackling, right in the midst of the rain.

      “That will be a comfort to us,” he remarked, eying the blaze with great satisfaction, “and will signal the party they are sure to send out for us.”

      “O, yes!” cried Bess. And then, of course, she had to tell him, often pausing as the sharp twinges of pain shot more and more fiercely through her ankle, all about the lost party in Maine, and the exploit which had earned for her the title of Captain.

      She had hardly finished her story when a shout was heard, and presently the relief party came hurrying into the firelit space.

      “What is it, dear? Are you hurt?” asked Mr. Percival, hastily kneeling down beside his daughter and throwing his arms around her. He had not realized until that moment how deeply anxious he had been during that dismal walk.

      “Only a little, father. It’s just my ankle. I turned it on the rocks.”

      “How did you get here?”

      “Mr. Selborne – carried me.”

      Her father turned and clasped the young man’s hand, saying simply, “I thank you.” But each of the men knew the already strong friendship between them was deepened.

      “Now for getting home,” called out Rossiter. “Too bad to leave the fire, though, isn’t it?”

      “You can spend the night here if you like,” laughed Bess, rising painfully and clinging to her father’s arm.

      It was clear that she could not walk a step.

      The fire was cared for; then the two sturdy young backwoodsmen made an arm-chair with their hands and wrists, and tramped off with Bess between them as easily as if she were a kitten.

      Very slowly though, and with great skill and care, feeling the ground carefully with their feet at every step. So they made their way back to the hotel, where there was a general jubilee over their return.

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