He had just time to dodge the surviving bear around the ice pinnacle.
Round and round he went, the bear at his heels. The predicament was a comical as well as a serious one.
“Golly! wha’ am I gwine to do?” reflected the darky. “I kain’t keep dis sort of fing up fo’ebber.”
The bear was enraged at his futile effort to capture his prey. Pomp eluded him every time.
Then a daring idea occurred to the darky. He broke away and made a dash for the airship.
If he could reach it and gain an entrance to the cabin he would be saved. Unarmed as he was it was certain death to face the bear.
Swift as he could, Pomp ran toward the Dart. The bear was howling close at his heels.
Indeed, when the Dart’s rail was reached the monster was hardly three yards behind. A dozen yards more and Pomp would certainly have been captured.
Over the rail at a leap went the darky. The next moment he reached the cabin door.
He threw his weight against it and it gave way. Into the cabin he sprang. The bear paused at the door.