3°4 



Ma/wocA of 

 ffie Icebergs 



cracked like an egg-shell by the fearful blow. 

 But Matwock was altogether too big, and 

 the pen altogether too small. With a roar 

 of rage he hurled the log aside, smashed 

 the pen into fragments, and charged straight 

 through the village, knocking to pieces with 

 blows of his terrible paws the pens and fish- 

 flakes that stood across his path. More than 

 one man jumped from his bed at the uproar 

 to see the huge white brute rush past, and to 

 bless himself that he was safe within doors. 



Matwock went back to his cave in the 

 iceberg, angry and sore, yet with a strange 

 timidity at heart from this first experience 

 in the abodes of men. What the abominable 

 thing was that had fallen on his back he 

 had, of course, no idea ; but he had learned 

 in a minute that he could not prowl here 

 with the power and authority that marked 

 him in the vast snowy solitudes where no 

 man dwells. He was licking a wound that 

 a chain had torn in his shaggy white coat, 

 when a faint scratching and grunting, amid 



\J? fVits c^2>* tne ceaseless roar of 

 breakers and booming 



