232 A YEAR WITH A WHALER 



ferocity, blind fury, and deadly menace were in 

 every line of that big white head shooting across 

 the water toward them. The boat sat stationary 

 on a dancing sea. The mate's rifle cracked re- 

 peatedly. The bullets peppered the sea, sending 

 up little spurts of water all about the bear. But 

 the beast did not notice them, never tried to 

 dodge, never swerved aside — just kept rushing 

 for the boat with the directness of an arrow. 



It was a time of keen excitement for the men 

 in the boat. They kept glancing with an " Oh, 

 that Bliicher or night would come " expression 

 toward Gabriel's boat, which was doing all that 

 oars could do to get into the fray. Big Foot 

 Louis standing all the while in the bow with 

 harpoon ready. The bobbing of his boat dis- 

 concerted the mate's aim. Though he was a 

 crack shot, as he had often proved among the 

 okchugs, I never saw him shoot so badly. But 

 he kept banging away, and when the bear was 

 within fifteen or twenty yards he got home a 

 ball in its shoulder. The beast plunged into the 

 air, snarling and clawing at the sea, then rushed 

 again for the boat like a white streak. It 



