altry foot he was unable to make good.

The man could not stand it. It was quite too fine a beast to be
dragged over the Falls before his eyes, if he could help it. Reaching
out swiftly with his right hand, he caught the swimmer by the long fur
of his neck, and heaved with all his strength.

For a moment he wondered if he could hold on. The great current drew
and sucked, almost irresistibly. But his grip was of steel, his
muscles sound and tense. For a moment or two the situation hung in
doubt. Then the swimmer, stroking desperately, began to gain. A moment
more, and that narrow, deadly foot of space was covered. The animal
got first one paw upon the rocks, then the other. With prompt
discretion, the woodsman dropped his hold and stepped back to the top
of the island, suddenly grown doubtful of his own wisdom.

Drawing himself just clear of the torrent, the bear crouched panting
for several minutes, exhausted from the tremendous struggle; and the
man, on the top of the rock, waited with his hand upon his knife-hilt
to see what would come of his reckless act. In reality, however, he
did not look for trouble, knowing the natures of the wild kindreds. He
was merely holding himself on guard against the unexpected. But he
soon saw that his caution was unnecessary. Recovering breath, the bear
clambered around the very edge of the rocks to the farther side of the
island, as far as possible from his rescuer. There he seated himself
upon his haunches, and devoted himself to gazing down, as if
fascinated, at the cauldron from which he had been snatched.

During the next half-hour the woodsman began to think. For the
present, he knew that the bear was quite inoffensive, being both
grateful and overawed. But there was no food on the island for either,
except the other. So the fight was bound to be renewed at last. And
after that, whoever might be the victor, what remained for him? From
that island, on the lip of the fall and walled about with wild rapids,
there could be no escape. The situation was not satisfactory from any
point of view. But that it was clear against his principles to
knuckle down, under any conditions, to beast, or man, or fate, the
woodsman might have permitted himself to wish that, after all, his
ice-cake had missed the island. As it was, however, he took another
bite from his plug of "blackjack," and set himself to whittling a
stick.

With a backwoodsman's skill in the art of whittling, he had made good