But the fugitive had grown tired of the trying device of dodging the bear round four corners, and, thinking that if he could only get to the horse corral and squeeze between the posts, he could, by keeping it between himself and Bruin, gain the hut at the far end and mount on to the roof.  He determined to put his scheme to the test.  So, when for a moment he lost sight of Bruin behind the other corner, he made a frantic bolt for the fence.  But his enemy happened to be making a dash round that side of the house from which Leon reckoned he had no right to make, one, and the result was that in another instant the beast was close at his heels.  It was an exciting moment, and Dorothy, despite the fact that the hunted one was a dangerous enemy, could not restrain a cry of horror when she saw his imminent peril.  She would have shot at the bear if she could, but just at that moment it happened to be going too fast for her.

As for the cross-eyed one, it was indeed a treat to see Leon, who had laughed at him when he sank into the snowdrift, flying for his life with a look of ghastly terror on his face.  It was a case of retributive justice with a vengeance.  His sporting tendencies were again in the ascendant, and he clapped his hands and yelled with delight.

The hunted half-breed managed to reach and squeeze through the fence ahead of the bear, but the latter, to Leon’s dismay, succeeded in getting through after him, lifting up the heavy rails with his strong snout and great back as if they were so many pieces of cane.  Then for the next three minutes Leon only managed to save himself by a very creditable acrobatic performance, which consisted of passing from one side of the fence to the other after the manner of a harlequin.  He had lost his tuque, and the bear had spared time to rend it to shreds with its great jaws and one quick wrench of its forepaws.  His stout blue coat was ripped right down the back, and altogether he was in a sorry plight.

The cross-eyed one had never witnessed anything so funny in all his life, and fairly danced about on the roof in his glee.  There was every chance that Leon would be clawed up past all recognition in the next few minutes, so he shouted encouragement to Bruin for all he was worth.

Then to the girl’s horror she saw the hunted half-breed stumble in the snow, and the bear grab him by his short blue coat just as he was wriggling under the fence.  Dorothy did not hesitate to act promptly now.  If she did not instantly put a bullet into the bear the man would be torn to pieces before her eyes, and that would be too horrible.  True, she might just possibly kill the man by firing, but better that than he should be killed by Bruin.  Fortunately she was accustomed to fire-arms, and was a fairly good shot, so, putting the rifle to her shoulder, she took aim and drew the trigger.

It was a good shot, for the bullet penetrated a little behind the left shoulder, in the neighbourhood of the heart, and the bear, releasing his grip upon Leon, lurched forward and lay still, while the breed crawled, in a very dishevelled condition, into the horse corral.