did not lose his reason through fright.

With fascinated eyes he watched the antics of the thoroughly enraged
animal. The bear made many efforts to climb the tree in pursuit of his
prey, but the swaying sapling was too slender to give him a hold, and
its bark too slippery with its coating of ice to insert the claws, which
had been clipped quite close, rendering them almost powerless in taking
a firm grasp.

The night had closed in intensely cold, and Halloran could feel his
cramped limbs and hands slowly stiffening, but he dared not lose his
grip.

The moon rose higher and higher in the night sky, shedding a white,
clear, bright light over the snow-clad earth.

He knew that the animal was watching his every movement closely, as each
time he shifted his position brought a savage growl from the bear, which
was circling round and round the tree, eying him intently.

For long hours this lasted, until the half frozen man, hanging on for
dear life to the upper branches of the sapling, thought he should go
mad.

With the coming of daylight the bear changed his tactics, lying down
directly under the tree, still eying his prey with his small, beady,
expectant eyes, as though measuring the time that his victim could hold
out.

The daylight grew stronger; slowly in the eastern horizon the red sun
rose, gilding the white, glistening snow with its rosy light.

Hour by hour it climbed the blue azure height, crossed the zenith, and
then slowly sank behind the western hills, heralding the oncoming of
another night.

Still the brute, with almost incredible cunning, sat in the same
position under the tree, watching Halloran's every move.

"God rescue me!" he cried, lifting his white face to the Heaven he had
so offended.

"If I pass another night here I shall go mad--mad!"

He was famished with hunger, numb with cold, and his mouth and throat
were dry with unconquerable thirst.

In those hours of suffering he thought of Lester Armstrong, and of the
awful fate he had doomed him to. He realized by his own experience of a
few hours what he must have endured, and a bitter groan of remorse broke
from his clammy lips.

"This is Heaven's punishment," he cried. "Oh, Lester Armstrong. God has
surely avenged you! If I could but atone; if it were to be done over
again, I would have no hand in the atrocious crime that has dyed my
hands just as surely as though I had plunged a knife into your heart!"

In his haste on leaving the c