Right in front of him was a tall oak whose lowest branch was full twenty feet from the ground.  Like a streak Bert reached it, whirled around to the farther side and swarmed up it like a monkey.  He reached the fork and swung himself out on the branch with not a second to spare.  The grizzly, frothing with rage and hate, had hurled himself against the tree and his up-reaching claw had torn the bark in a vain attempt to clutch the leg that he only missed by inches.

But he was balked.  He could not climb, and the tree was too big for him to tear down, as he might have done had it been slenderer or younger.  By the narrowest of margins he had failed to add one more victim to those who had already fallen before his ferocity.

Not that he had relinquished hope.  He had lost in the open attack, but he still had the resource of a siege.  Soon or late he was sure his victim would have to descend.  His victory was only deferred.  Back and forth and round and round the tree he paced, growling fiercely, at times rearing himself on his hind legs and tearing savagely at the trunk.  His open jaws, slavering with foam and showing his great yellow fangs, were full of fearful menace, and his wicked eyes glowed like a furnace.  His temper, evil at all times, had been rendered worse by the fury of the chase and disappointment at his failure.  Baffled rage bristled in every hair of his shaggy hide.  At that moment he would have charged a regiment.

Bert settled himself in the crotch of the tree and gazed at his thwarted enemy with a sensation of indescribable relief.  He was drenched with sweat, his clothes were torn by that wild race through the brush, his breath came in gasps that were almost sobs, and his heart was beating like a triphammer.  He had looked into the very eyes of death and almost by a miracle had escaped.  For the present, at least, he was safe.  His giant adversary could not reach him.

Had he been entirely alone in this wild section of the mountains, or had his whereabouts been unknown, his situation would have been hopeless.  The bear might settle down to a siege of many days, and he had powerful allies in sleep and hunger.  If wearied nature should assert her rights and Bert in a moment of drowsiness topple from his perch, or if, driven by starvation, he should make a last despairing effort to escape, the chances would be all against him.  The instinct of the grizzly told him that, if not interfered with, time alone was all that was necessary to bring his foe within his grasp.

But there were Dick and Tom to be reckoned with, and beyond them was Melton, who would surely organize a party and come to his aid.  He knew that his comrades would not leave him in the lurch and that they would risk their lives to save him from his perilous position.  No doubt but at that moment they were working with might and main to devise some plan of rescue.

But what could they do?  He had taken the canoe and they had no means of getting over to him.  Had they known of the narrow peninsula on the farther side, they might have worked their way around the end of the lake.  But they thought the place was an island, only to be reached by water.  Both were strong swimmers and could easily win their way over.  But they couldn’t do that and keep their guns dry, and without weapons they could do nothing.