ide, sun-flooded expanse of ice, with the dark woods beyond
and soft blue sky above, the threat of imminent death seemed to the
woodsman curiously out of place. Yet there death was, panting savagely
at his heels, ready for the first mis-step. And there, too, a mile
below, was death in another form, roaring heavily from the swollen
Falls. And hidden under a face of peace, he knew that death lurked all
about his feet, liable to rise in mad fury at any instant with the
breaking of the ice. As he thought of all this besetting menace, the
woodsman's nerves drew themselves to steel. He set his teeth grimly. A
light of elation came into his eyes. And he felt himself able to win
the contest against whatever odds.

As this sense of new vigour and defiance spurred him to a fresh burst
of speed, the woodsman took notice that he was just about half-way
across the ice. "Good!" he muttered, counting the game now more than
half won. Then, even as he spoke, a strange, terrifying sound ran all
about him. Was it in the air, or beneath the ice? It came from
everywhere at once,--a straining grumble, ominous as the first growl
of an earthquake. The woodsman understood that dreadful voice very
well. He wavered for a second, then sprang forward desperately. And
the bear, pursuing, understood also. His rage vanished in a breath. He
stumbled, whimpered, cast one frightened glance at the too distant
shore behind him, then followed the woodsman's flight,--followed now,
with no more heed to pursue.

For less than half a minute that straining grumble continued. Then it
grew louder, mingled with sharp, ripping reports, and long, black
lanes opened suddenly in every direction. Right before the woodsman's
flying feet one opened. He took it with a bound. But even as he sprang
the ice went all to pieces. What he sprang to was no longer a solid
surface, but a tossing fragment which promptly went down beneath the
impact of his descent. Not for nothing was it, however, that the
woodsman had learned to "run the logs" in many a tangled boom and
racing "drive." His foot barely touched the treacherous floe ere he
leaped again and yet again, till he had gained, by a path which none
but a riverman could ever have dreamed of traversing, an ice-cake
broad and firm enough to give him foothold. Beyond this refuge was a
space of surging water, foam, and ice-mush, too broad for the essay of
any human leap.

The Big Fork, from shore to shore, was now a tossing, swis