At Close Quarters loi 



turned to attack Jim, it was my turn to stab. When the 

 bear went for Pete I let him most severely alone, but this 

 was Jim's opportunity and he never missed it. After the 

 bear had been stuck by the knife a number of times he 

 became foxy. He would feint for Jim, and as I started to 

 make my thrust, would turn like lightning and make a 

 pass at me. Several times he came so near me that I thought 

 I could hear the swish of his nails, and I was soon compelled 

 to be more cautious and to wait until Jim became actually 

 entangled with the brute, when Pete and I would join forces 

 and make the most of our opportunity, till we drew the 

 fight back to our quarter. 



Jim was now becoming winded; he could no longer 

 retreat as quickly as at first, and I myself was beginning to 

 miss the breath I had spent in yelling. Pete was the only 

 one of the attacking force that was in first-class shape, 

 while the bear seemed to have more wind than he knew 

 what to do with. Under these circumstances it was not 

 long before he made a pass at me and caught me through 

 the ball of the hand. The wound was rather a nasty one 

 and the blow knocked the knife from my grasp; but after 

 striking a bush it dropped near by, so that I was able to 

 recover it without losing my next turn, and we continued 

 the fight. Little by little the bear himself weakened. At 

 first this was only noticeable in that it required more bit- 

 ing and punching than formerly to make him turn from one 

 to the other. Then bloody froth began flying from his 

 mouth. But he held on so amazingly that I about lost 

 hope of killing him and saving the dogs. Still I, had got 

 them into the scrape, I knew that they would fight to the 

 death, and I made up my mind to stay with them. 



