lost prize, approached the edge of the
forest at the other side of Ringwaak,--and saw the figure of the ram
against the sky. Then, seeing also the ewe with the lamb beside her,
he knew that the game was his.

Below the top of the hill there was not a scrap of cover for a
distance of perhaps twenty paces. The bear crept to the very last
bush, the ram being occupied with the world at a distance, and the ewe
busy at her pasturing. Behind the bush--a thick, spreading
juniper--the bear crouched motionless for some seconds, his little red
eyes aglow, and his jaws beginning to slaver with eagerness. Then
selecting the unconscious ewe, because he knew she was not likely to
desert the lamb, he rushed upon his intended victim.

The ewe, as it chanced, was about thirty-five or forty feet distant
from the enemy, as he lunged out, black and appalling, from behind the
juniper. At the same time the ram was not more than twenty or
twenty-five feet distant, straight above the lamb, in a direction at
right angles to the path of the bear. The ewe looked up with a
startled bleat, wheeled, sprang nimbly before the lamb, and faced her
doom dauntlessly, with lowered head.

[Illustration: "HE CREPT UP THE HILL."]

The ram's mild gaze changed in a flash to one of cold, yellow savagery
at the sight of the great black beast invading his kingdom. Down went
his conquering head. For just a fraction of a second his sturdy body
sagged back, as if he were about to sit down. This, so to speak, was
the bending of the bow. Then he launched himself straight down the
slope, all his strength, his weight, and the force of gravity
combining to drive home that mighty stroke.

The bear had never, in all his experience with sheep, encountered one
whose resistance was worth taking into account. The defiance of the
ewe was less than nothing to him. But as he saw, from the corner of
his eye, the huge bulk plunging down upon him, he hesitated, and half
turned, with great paw upraised for a finishing blow.

He turned not quite in time, however, and his defence was not quite
strenuous enough for the emergency. He struck like lightning, as a
bear always can, but just before the stroke could find its mark the
ram's armed forehead crashed into his ribs. The blow, catching him as
it did, was irresistible. His claws tore off a patch of wool and skin,
and ploughed red furrows across the ram's shoulder,--but the next
instant he was sprawling, his breath jarred from his