And yet it was strange, for just then the embers fell together, a soft, lambent, bluish flame flickered up, making the interior of the hut light, and he saw that the dog still lay in its old place, fast asleep. What was it then—bear, wolf—which had torn a way through or half under the wall of the place?
A bear, for it suddenly raised itself up on its hind-legs, and as he lay stupefied with horror, Abel could make out its shaggy hide.
Still, he could not move to reach for the rifle which stood ready loaded in the corner close by, but lay half paralysed in the strange dazed state into which he had fallen, till the object which reared up, looking huge, moved a little, and seemed listening.
Just then there was a bright gleam.
Eyes—teeth? Impossible, for it was low down, and Abel shook off his lethargy and uttered a low, hoarse cry, as he made an effort to spring up and reach a weapon.
But he was tight in the skin-lined sleeping-bag, and this fettered him so that he fell back, and the next moment his nocturnal visitant sprang forward, coming down heavily upon him, at the same moment making a deadly blow at him.
The strange feeling of helplessness was gone. Something to call forth the young man’s flagging energies had been needed, and it had come. He had lain down as one who had given up all hope, who had lost all that bound him to life; but that was but the dream of weakness, the stagnation of his nature, brought on by suffering, loneliness, and despair.
Face to face now with this danger, confronted by a cowardly ruffian, Nature made her call, and it was answered. The strong desire for life returned, and with another hoarse cry he flung himself aside, and thus avoided the blow aimed at him.
The next moment he had thrown himself upon his assailant. In an instant his hands were upon his throat. And now a terrible struggle ensued, in which a strange sense of strength came back to Abel; and he kept his hold, as, failing to extricate himself, his assailant retaliated by seizing him in the same way, and kept on raising and beating the fettered man’s head against the floor.
For in their struggle they had writhed and twisted till they were approaching the fire; and as they strove on in their fight for the mastery, Abel was conscious of hearing a loud yelp. Then his breath grew shorter, there was a horrible sensation of the blood rushing to his eyes, as he gasped for breath—a terrible swimming of the brain—lights bright as flashes of lightning danced before his eyes, and then with his senses reeling he was conscious of a tremendous weight, and then all was black—all was silent as the grave.