But, all the same, as the smoke rose he stood ready to send another shot at the monster if it should prove only to be stunned.
“Here, doctor,” he said, “give him the other barrel, so as to make sure. I don’t want any one to be clawed.”
The doctor, nothing loth, took aim again, and fired his second cartridge, this bullet also taking effect; but the bear did not move.
“Dead enough,” said the captain. “Give way, my lads.”
The men pulled, and the boat was rowed right up to a tiny valley in the ice, which just gave them room to land and group round the monstrous bear, the gentlemen with their guns ready for a shot, the two Norwegians with their spears over their shoulders.
The doctor’s eyes sparkled with delight, for this bear also was a magnificent specimen, with enormously long, fine hair, decidedly whiter than the coat of the brute they had destroyed at Jan Mayen.
“I did not know that you were such a shot, Handscombe,” said the captain.
“Oh, a mere accident,” said the doctor modestly. “Wasn’t it a pity you let your chance go, Steve?”
“Oh, I don’t mind,” said the lad, planting his foot on the bear’s shoulder, and stooping to look for the wound. Then he started, and glanced at Johannes, who, like Jakobsen, stood leaning on his spear.
He read confirmation in the man’s quiet eyes, and he turned round excitedly to his companions.