Tighter and tighter the mighty arm gripped him while Eiseeyou struggled with all his might to free himself. If the bear had possessed both arms, he could have crushed the hunter in a very few seconds.
But even as it was Eiseeyou felt his ribs cracking. His eyes fairly bulged from his head. His breath was entirely squeezed out of him and with a snap like the report of a pistol, his right arm with which he was holding his own body away from that of the bear snapped.
Finally it grew dark about Eiseeyou. He had a queer faint feeling and his ears rang strangely.
But just as he reached the point of his last ounce of resistance the strength of the Czar gave out and they collapsed together and rolled on the snow beside the dead musk ox.
Five minutes later Eiseeyou raised himself painfully on his elbow and looked about him. He had fainted with the pain from his broken arm, but the bear was motionless and apparently dead. Eiseeyou reached over cautiously and touched his nose. It was already growing cold.
Yes, he had won the fight, but at a terrible price. One of his ribs was broken and he was so sore that he could scarcely draw a long breath. His right arm was broken. It was thirty below zero and night was coming on in a few hours. He was so weak he could not stand and his companions and the three komatiks were hourly going further from him. They would not expect him to overtake them until towards night. Then it would be too late for them to turn back and look for him. Besides, they could not find him in a day's search unless they should be very successful in tracking him. In the meantime he must keep from freezing.
Eiseeyou's plight looked desperate, but he was not discouraged.
A white man under those circumstances would have frozen, but not so the hardy Eskimo. For several minutes he sat upon the body of the dead bear whose white coat had cost him such a price. Then a grin overspread his pleasant countenance. No, he was not beaten.