CHAPTER X
AN UGLY CUSTOMER
Rob Carrol had good cause for his panic. Full of high hope, he hurriedalong the ice between crags which shut him out of sight, for the time,from Jack Cosgrove, who was resting himself after his hard climb. Theyouth was thinking of no one and nothing else, except his friend FredWarburton, who had vanished so mysteriously the night before.
The signs in the icy track he was following convinced him that he wasclose upon the heels of his chum, who could not have wandered muchfarther in advance. His hope was tinged with the deepest anxiety, forit was impossible to account for Fred's long absence and silence,except upon the theory that some grievous injury had befallen him.
The searcher's nerves were strung to the highest point, and he waspushing forward with unabated vigor, when his heart almost stoodstill, as he caught a peculiar sound among the masses of ice.
"That's Fred," he concluded; "he's alive, thank God!" and then hecalled to his friend:
"Fred! Fred, old fellow, where are you? Speak, I beg of you."
The words were trembling on his lips, when what seemed to be a hugepile of snow just in advance, arose from the ice and began swingingtoward him.
Paralyzed for the moment by the amazing sight, and wondering whetherhis senses were not betraying him, Rob stood motionless, as if rootedto the spot.
But the next minute that same mass of snow assumed more definiteshape, and an unmistakable growl issued from somewhere within theinterior.
That was enough. Rob knew what it was that was sweeping down upon himlike a young avalanche. He had almost stumbled over a huge polar bear,ravenous and fierce with hunger, and with a courage that made himafraid of neither man nor beast.
He must have been half asleep when roused by the approach and thevoice of the lad. Opening his great eyes, he saw before him a finebreakfast in the shape of a plump lad, and he proceeded to go for himwith a vim and eagerness that would not be denied.
It was about this time that Rob whirled on his heel and started on theback track, with all the desperate hurry at his command. It will beremembered that he had no gun with him, he and Jack having left theweapons on the ice a considerable distance away. Both were without anymeans of defense, unless the sheath knife which the sailor alwayscarried may be considered a weapon, and the only possible hope forthem was to secure their rifles before the monster secured them.
When the lad's frenzied cry broke upon Jack, he sprang from the seatwhere he had been resting, and stood staring and wondering what it allcould mean. He saw the boy's cap fly from his head, and he noted histerrified glances behind him. The next moment the polar bear plungedinto sight, and the sailor grasped the situation.
Even then he failed to do the wisest thing. Instead of realizing thatbut one course could save them, and that was by dashing back to theguns, he hastily drew his knife and awaited the coming of the brutewith a view of checking his attack upon the lad.
It was more creditable to Jack's chivalry than to his sagacity that heshould do this thing.
Even Rob, despite his extreme fright, saw the mistake his friend wasmaking, and called to him:
"Quick, Jack! Get the guns and shoot him!"
"I shouldn't wonder now if that was a good idea," reflected thesailor, shoving his knife back, and whirling about to do as urged.
The situation was so critical that even his sluggish blood wasstirred, and he never moved so fast as he did for the succeedingseconds. Indeed, it was altogether too fast, for he fell headlong withsuch violence that he was partially stunned, and by the time heregained his feet Rob was upon him.
Meanwhile the polar bear was making matters lively. He was hustlingfor his breakfast, and he kept things on the jump. He was at home amidthe snow and ice, and, with little effort, got forward faster than thefugitives possibly could; he was overhauling Rob hand over hand.
To continue his flight, even for the brief remaining distance, was toinsure his certain death. Rob saw him, and, when the ponderous beastwas almost upon him, he made a desperate leap from the icy path,landing on his hands and knees several feet to the left, and instantlyscrambling up again.
The manoeuvre was so unexpected by the pursuer that he passedseveral paces beyond before he could stop. Turning his head, with hishuge jaws so far apart that his red tongue and long white teethshowed, he prepared to continue his pursuit of the lad who had escapedhim for the moment by such an exceedingly narrow chance.
But it so happened that Jack Cosgrove just then was also climbing tohis feet from his thumping fall, and, being but a short way from thebrute, he drew his attention to himself.
The bear's appetite was in that rugged state that he was notparticular as to whether his meal was made from a boy or full-grownman, and, since the latter was within most convenient reach, heshifted his design to him.
"By the great horned spoon!" muttered the sailor, quick to see howmatters had turned; "but it's Jack Cosgrove that is to have all thisfun to himself, and he's enjoying it."
The single recourse still presented itself; nothing could be done tocheck the furious beast until one of the rifles was turned againsthim, but it did seem for a time as if fate itself was fighting infavor of the brute.
Jack's tumble and flurry had so mixed him up that the rifles wereforgotten, until he took several steps on his flight, when he recalledthe fatal oversight, and hastily turned to rectify it; but theprecious moments wasted made it too late. The bear was actuallybetween him and the weapons, and, to attempt to reach them, except bya roundabout course, was to fling himself into the embrace of thoseresistless claws.
He was too wise to attempt it. The first thing to do was to gethimself out of reach of the terror that was bearing down upon him withthe certainty of death.
"If there was only a tree that I could climb," he reflected, leaping,tumbling, and laboring forward as best he could; "he couldn't nab me,but I don't see any tree, and that chap's hungry enough to eat astewed anchor."
In the fearful hurry and panic some moments passed before Rob Carrolcomprehended the abrupt change in the plan of campaign. At the momenthe expected to feel the claw of the brute, he looked back and saw hewas pressing Jack hard. Furthermore, the latter, instead of hurryingfor the guns, was drawing away from them.
That was a bad outlook, but it suggested to the youth that the chancehad come for him to do something effective.
He lost no time in seizing the chance. He turned again in his course,and moved around toward the spot where the weapons had been left nearat hand. Could he have been sure of a few minutes there would havebeen no trouble in managing it, but events were going with such a rushthat there was not a spare second at command.
The guns being near and lower in elevation than themselves, were inplain sight. Rob saw the barrels and the iron work gleaming in themorning sunlight, so that he could make no mistake in locating them,but his attention was so riveted on the prizes that he paid no heed tohis footsteps, or, rather, he paid less heed than was necessary.
He was within fifty feet, and was counting upon the quickness withwhich he would end the sport of the brute when he discovered that hewas on the brink of an irregular depression in the ice. He trieddesperately to check himself or turn aside, but it was beyond hisability and over he went.