By this time, and, indeed, a minute before, Rob had reached the spot where the two guns lay, and with both in his grasp he set off in hot haste to overtake the brute. He meant to get so near that when he fired there could be no miss.
To his exasperation, he stumbled and came within a hair of going into the very hole from which he had extricated himself with so much difficulty. But he escaped, and finding neither weapon injured, he resumed his pursuit, cheered by the apparent fact that the bear was no longer able to gain upon the fugitive.
Jack had run as close to the edge of the iceberg as possible, and to venture nearer would be at the imminent risk of going into the icy sea. He perforce turned, and sped in the direction of the lad, who was hastening to his help.
This suited Rob, for there was no call for him to continue his pursuit, since the bear was approaching "head on." The youth stopped as soon as he saw the change, and prepared to close matters.
The opening could not have been better, and, dropping one rifle at his feet, Rob steadied himself and took careful aim at the beast. He pointed the gun not at his head, but at a point just below, hoping to reach his heart.
He saw the snowy coat stained crimson from the wound made by Jack's knife, and he limped heavily.
"Look out you don't hit me!" called the panting sailor, whose grim humor showed itself at the most inopportune times.
"Get out of the way, then!" called Rob, in turn; "you're right in front of me."
Jack dodged to one side, being at the moment about midway between his friend and pursuer, and less than twenty feet from either.
The next instant the lad pulled trigger.