Toby dropped his gun and ran, but he knew he could not outdistance the furious animal at his heels. At that moment Charley's rifle rang out. The tip of the bear's great paw reached Toby and sent him sprawling, and as he fell the bear suddenly sank with a grunt like the dying exhaust of an engine.
"You got un! You got un!" exclaimed Toby, springing to his feet.
"I thought he was going to get you!" said Charley, all atremble.
"He just touched me!" Toby boasted. "'Tis the first white bear killed in these parts in two years, whatever!"
Toby and Charley gloated over their prize, and when they had examined the carcass, Toby declared that it was Charley's last shot, just behind the shoulder, that had killed it.
"My shots takes un too far for'ard, and all your shots hits un too far back, except one," Toby declared.
Nearly an hour was occupied in skinning the bear, and in packing and lashing the meat upon the komatik. While they packed the meat, the dogs were permitted to feast upon the offal, as their reward, and when all was ready they turned their faces again toward Pinch-In Tickle, quite elated with their success.
Travel now, with the heavily laden komatik, was slow, and the overfed dogs required constant urging. Completely engrossed with the capture and skinning of the bear, both Toby and Charley had quite forgotten about the unstable condition of the ice. Now they were aware that the wind was blowing considerably harder than when they had started. Charley was the first to speak of it.
"The wind has stiffened," said he with some concern. "The bear made us forget about the ice. Do you think it's all right?"
"That's what I'm thinkin' about." Toby looked worried. "We'll soon be knowin'. If the ice has gone abroad from the shore, we're in a worse fix than the bear had us in."