of the springs,
and sudden fringes of bloom, yellow and pink, along the edges of the
perpetual ice, and the painted fluttering of butterflies in every
southward-sloping hollow where there was earth enough to hold the roots
of flowers. The little winged adventurers would sometimes flit abroad
over the snow, questing perilously beyond the narrow confines of their
home. These rash wanderers, as a rule, would fall chilled, and die on
the snow before they could get back; and the cub, attracted by the
flecks of gay colour on the expanse of gray-white barrenness, would run
gleefully to snap them up and eat them.

[Illustration: "WOULD RUN GLEEFULLY TO SNAP THEM UP AND EAT THEM."]

Throughout the summer the cub and his mother kept very much to
themselves, seldom consorting with the other bears which roamed the
rocks and floes or came to the sunny valleys to feed on the ephemeral
herbage. The cub, meanwhile, having all the nourishment and care that
was usually divided between two, was growing swiftly in stature and in
the lore of the north. With his mother's example before him he learned
to hunt seals, to creep up on the dozing sea-birds, to scoop the unwary
fish from the sea, to waylay the stupid hare or the wary fox. But he was
peculiarly averse to swimming, and never entered the water except under
the compulsion of his mother's firm paw. The wise old bear, knowing how
much his success in the battle of life must depend on his mastery of the
water, would push him in from time to time, and keep him there in spite
of every whimpering protest. In this way he learned his needed lessons.
But his preference was all for land hunting, and it was obvious that
only the extreme of hunger would ever lead him to follow the seals in
their own element. As a matter of fact, since that memorable day when
his mother had been beaten by the great walrus, the cub had grown to
regard the sea as the peculiar domain of the walruses, and he felt a
certain diffidence about trespassing.

When the summer was beginning to fade away as hurriedly as it had come,
the cub was suddenly left alone in his grim world. It happened in this
way. On a certain hungry day, when his mother's hunting had been
unsuccessful, the wind brought over a ridge of rock a pungent and
ravishing smell of fresh blood. As cautiously as a cat the old bear
crept around the ridge, the cub creeping at her heels. The sight that
met them was one they had never seen before. Close at the wa