"Mary," he called in a whisper, "are you here?" But there was only the ticking of the clock and the hum of the kettle.
With an unspeakable fear he sprang to his feet, throwing off all caution and cried, "Mary," in a loud voice, but with no better results.
Then with a trembling hand he struck a match and by its feeble light saw his wife lying on the floor like one dead. Kneeling beside her he felt her pulse. It fluttered feebly and he knew she had only swooned. A dash of cold water soon revived her and she sat up and looked bewilderingly about.
There upon the floor lay the door with the shattered jamb beside it and in front of the stove was a bright pool of blood, but no bear was visible. Then the match went out and they were again in darkness.
Suddenly, with a paroxysm of fear, the woman sprang forward and clutched in the darkness for the cradle; then with a wild, pitiful, heartbroken cry, she fell to the floor.
"Mary, Mary, what is the matter?" cried the bewildered husband, trying with trembling fingers to strike another match.
A moment it sputtered and then burned bright, and by the fitful light the man beheld that which turned his blood to ice and his heart to stone. The cradle was empty, and the baby was gone.