In the wild dash through the woods he had described almost a perfect circle, and the tree in which he was sheltered commanded a view of the canoe and the shimmering water beyond.  It maddened him to see the boat rocking there idly, as useless to him at that moment as though it were a thousand miles away.

If he had only brought his rifle with him!  How thoughtless of him to take such a chance!  The words of Mr. Melton at the breakfast table recurred to him and he fairly writhed in an agony of self-reproach.

The grizzly had by this time realized that nothing could be done for the present but wait.  He ceased his restless swaying to and fro and squatted down on his haunches, his murderous eyes never leaving Bert for an instant.

On the other side of the lake Dick and Tom were working with feverish energy, almost beside themselves with fear at their comrade’s terrible plight.

They had awakened soon after Bert’s departure, and had been startled for a moment at finding him gone.  The absence of the canoe, however, followed by a glimpse of it on the shore across the water, had reassured them, and they had waited more or less patiently for his reappearance.

Suddenly Dick started to his feet.

“What’s that?” he cried, pointing to the woods near the water’s edge.

“Where?” exclaimed Tom, startled out of his usual calm by the evident alarm in Dick’s voice.

“In that big clump of trees over to the right,” was the answer, and then his voice rose to a shout:  “Great Scott!  It’s a grizzly.”

“And there comes Bert,” yelled Tom.  “Bert, Bert,” they shouted wildly, rushing down to the shore and waving their hands frantically.

They had seen Bert dart off into the woods with the bear in hot pursuit, but the outcome of the chase had been hidden from their view.  They did not dare to think of what might have happened, and they looked at each other in helpless anguish.

“Quick!” yelled Dick, wrenching himself loose from the paralysis that had seized him.  “A raft.  We’ve got to get over there with the guns.  We’ve got a paddle left and we can push ourselves over.  Oh, Bert, Bert!” he groaned.

But Tom intervened.

“No good,” he said hurriedly.  “It’ll take too long to make it and we’d be too slow in getting across.  The canoe’s our only chance.  You get the guns ready.”

He kicked off his shoes, tore off his clothes, dived head foremost into the lake, and with long, powerful strokes headed for the farther shore.

He had an almost amphibious love for the water and the task he had set for himself was easy.  But his fear for Bert and his impatience at the delay before he could help him made it seem to him as though he were going at a snail’s pace, although in reality he was cleaving the water like a fish.

Bert, looking out from his perch in the tree, suddenly had his attention attracted by something on the smooth surface.  He thought at first that it was a water fowl.  Then he looked more closely, and his heart gave a great bound as he recognized that it was one of his comrades, although he could not tell which one at that distance.  He saw that the swimmer was headed straight for the canoe, and he surmised the plan in an instant.