distinguish when the jam was secure. He
found that the bear was eyeing him anxiously, and not looking at the
ice at all; so he chuckled, told himself that if he didn't know more
than a bear he'd no business in the woods, and stepped resolutely
forth upon the treacherous pack. Before he had gone ten paces the bear
jumped up with a whimper, and followed hastily, plainly conceding that
the man knew more than he.

In the strange, sudden quiet, the shrunken falls clamouring thinly and
the broken ice swishing against the upper side of the jam, the man
picked his way across the slippery, chaotic surface of the dam,
expecting every moment that it would crumble with a roar from under
his feet. About ten or a dozen yards behind him came the bear,
stepping hurriedly, and trembling as he looked down at the diminished
cataract. The miracle of the vanishing falls daunted his spirit most
effectively, and he seemed to think that the whole mysterious
phenomenon was of the man's creating. When the two reached shore, the
flood was already boiling far up the bank. Without so much as a thank
you, the bear scurried past his rescuer, and made off through the
timber like a scared cat. The man looked after him with a slow smile,
then turned and scanned the perilous path he had just traversed. As he
did so, the jam seemed to melt away in mid-channel. Then a terrific,
rending roar tortured the air. The mass of logs and ice, and all the
incalculable weight of imprisoned waters hurled themselves together
over the brink with a stupefying crash, and throbbing volumes of spray
leapt skyward. The woodsman's lean face never changed a muscle; but
presently, giving a hitch to his breeches under the belt, he muttered
thoughtfully:

"Blame good thing we come away when we did!"

Then, turning on his larriganed heels, he strode up the trail till the
great woods closed about him, and the raving thunders gradually died
into quiet.

[Illustration: "IT WOULD HAVE SEEMED LIKE NO MORE THAN A DARKER,
SWIFTLY-MOVING SHADOW IN THE DARK WATER."]

The Keeper of the Water-Gate

Some distance below the ice, through the clear, dark water of the
quiet-running stream, a dim form went swimming swiftly. It was a
sturdy, broad-headed, thick-furred form, a little more than a foot in
length, with a naked, flattened tail almost as long as the body. It
held its small, handlike forepaws tucked up under its chin, and swam
with quick strokes of its strong hind legs an