It must have been long after that, thought Langdon, that the first bear came to replace the mammoth, the mastodon, and the monstrous beasts that had been their company.  And that first bear was the forefather of the grizzly he and Bruce were setting forth to kill the next day!

So engrossed was Langdon in his thoughts that he did not hear a sound behind him.  And then something roused him.

It was as if one of the monsters he had been picturing in his imagination had let out a great breath close to him.  He turned slowly, and the next moment his heart seemed to stop its beating; his blood seemed to grow cold and lifeless in his veins.

Barring the ledge not more than fifteen feet from him, his great jaws agape, his head moving slowly from side to side as he regarded his trapped enemy, stood Thor, the King of the Mountains!

And in that space of a second or two Langdon’s hands involuntarily gripped at his broken rifle, and he decided that he was doomed!

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

A broken, choking breath—­a stifled sound that was scarcely a cry—­was all that came from Langdon’s lips as he saw the monstrous grizzly looking at him.  In the ten seconds that followed he lived hours.

His first thought was that he was powerless—­utterly powerless.  He could not even run, for the rock wall was behind him; he could not fling himself valleyward, for there was a sheer fall of a hundred feet on that side.  He was face to face with death, a death as terrible as that which had overtaken the dogs.

And yet in these last moments Langdon did not lose himself in terror.  He noted even the redness in the avenging grizzly’s eyes.  He saw the naked scat along his back where one of his bullets had plowed; he saw the bare spot where another of his bullets had torn its way through Thor’s fore-shoulder.  And he believed, as he observed these things, that Thor had deliberately trailed him, that the bear had followed him along the ledge and had cornered him here that he might repay in full measure what had been inflicted upon him.

Thor advanced—­just one step; and then in that slow, graceful movement, reared himself to full height.  Langdon, even then, thought that he was magnificent.  On his part, the man did not move; he looked steadily up at Thor, and he had made up his mind what to do when the great beast lunged forward.  He would fling himself over the edge.  Down below there was one chance in a thousand for life.  There might be a ledge or a projecting spur to catch him.

And Thor!

Suddenly—­unexpectedly—­he had come upon man!  This was the creature that had hunted him, this was the creature that had hurt him—­and it was so near that he could reach out with his paw and crush it!  And how weak, and white, and shrinking it looked now!  Where was its strange thunder?  Where was its burning lightning?  Why did it make no sound?