438 LOOKING SEVEN WAYS FOR SUNDAY, 
with his sweeping paws, while, with expanded jaws, he 
shook his pointed head with mingled pain, rage, and 
fright. At that moment he offered the most perfect idea 
of the old expi'ession — ‘booking seven ways for Sunday” 
— that one could imagine, and its vivid application to his 
painful contortions forced itself upon my mind even in 
that moment of wild excitement. 
‘^Give way, boys! Drive her ahead!” exclaimed the 
eager voice of the captain, as with pale cheek and nervous 
Land he steered the trembling boat clear of the pointed 
rocks which began to cross our foaming path as \ve 
neared the beach. ^^Give her headway ! A dozen more 
strokes and we are there.” 
“Oh, horror!” exclaimed a tremulous voice from the 
bow. “ But this is frightful ! The bear will fight ! See 
how ho settles his gaze upon the doctor and gathers 
himself for a spring! He will take them all with one 
sweep of a single paw. And we — we are too laiel” The 
speaker raised himself with a gesture as full of emotion 
as his voice, and leaned eagerly forw^ard over the boiling 
w^ater that curled under our stern. 
The large veins swelled almost to bursting on the 
dripping brows of the labouring crew, and the tough 
oars bent like wdialebone under their frightened strength. 
The doctor had nursed kindly weak men who were strong 
men now, and the power of long-cherished gratitude 
combined with bone and sinew to drive the boat ahead 
and rescue his threatened life. It was not in every oar 
of ash to resist those hardened muscles that swelled thus 
with gratitude and excitement: something must fail, for 
the yielding oars can yield no more. Suddenly there 
