shouted the Indians; for Ononwe, gun in hand, had
been posted close to the opening.

He half-raised his gun, but lowered it again.

"Netawis found her," he said quietly. "Let Netawis shoot her."

He stepped back towards John who, almost before he knew, found the
gun thrust into his hands; for the children had let go their clasp.

Amid silence he lifted it and took aim, wondering all the while why
Ononwe had done this. The light was fading. To be sure he could not
miss the bear's haunches, now turned obliquely to him; but to hit her
without killing would be scarcely less dishonouring than to miss
outright, and might be far more dangerous. His hand and forearm
trembled too--with the exertion of hewing, or perhaps from the strain
of holding the children. Why had he been fool enough to take the
gun? He foretasted his disgrace even as he pulled the trigger.

It seemed to him that as the smoke cleared the bear still walked
forward slowly. But a moment later she turned her head with one loud
snap of the jaws and lurched over on her side. Her great fore-pads
smote twice on the powdery snow, then were still.

He had killed her, then; and, as he learned from the applause, by an
expert's shot, through the spine at the base of the skull. John had
aimed at this merely at a guess, knowing nothing of bears or their
vulnerable points, and in this ignorance neglecting a far easier mark
behind the pin of the shoulder.

But more remained to wonder at; for the beast being certified for
dead, Meshu-kwa ran forward and kneeling in the snow beside it began
to fondle and smooth the head, calling it by many endearing names.
She seated herself presently, drew the great jaws on to her lap and
spoke into its ear, beseeching its forgiveness. "O bear!" she cried
for all to hear, "O respected grandmother! You yourself saw that
this was a stranger's doing. Believe not that Meshu-kwa is guilty of
your death, or any of her tribe! It was a stranger that disturbed
your sleep, a stranger who fired upon you with this unhappy result!"

The men stood around patiently until this propitiation was ended; and
then fell to work to skin the bear, while Meshu-kwa went off with her
daughters to the lodges, to prepare the cooking pots. In passing
John she gave him a glance of no good will.

That night, as Azoka stood by a cauldron in which the bear's fat
bubbled, and the young men idled around the blaze, she saw Netawis
draw Ononwe aside into