The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1912-05-07
GAN ROBERTSON.

pondered on her chances. She was close to or on the bridge steps. The boat, 24, which he was almost sure was being cleared away as he looked, would swing close to her. as it, descended. She could climb in and be saved unless the swimmers from doors and hatches should swamp the boat. And in his agony of mind he cursed these swim mers, preferring to see her mentally the only passenger in the boat, with the watch on deck to pull her to. safety.
 The potent drug he had taken was still at work, and this, with the mu- sical swash of the sea on the icy beach and the mufaed creaking and cracking beneath and around him-the voice of the iceberg-overcame him finally, and he slept to 4waken at daylight. with limbs Stinened and d2numb-almost fro- zen.
 And all night asshe slept boat with the No. A on her bow, pulled by sturdy sailors and steered by brass butt0ned officers, was, making for the southern lane-the highway of spring traffic. And crouched in the stern sheets of this boat was a moaning, praying woman, who cried and scream ed at intervals for husband and baby and would not be. comforted, even when one of the brass buttoned officers assured her that her child was safe in the care of John Rowland, brave and trusty sailor, who was certainly in the ! other boat with it. He did not tell her, of course, that Rowland had hailed from the berg as she lay unconscious and that if he still had the child 1t was with him there-deserted.
 ' Rowland, with some misgivings, drank a small quantity of the liquor and, wrapping the still sleeping child in the coat, stepped out on the ice. The fog was gone, and blue, sailless sea stretched out to the horizon. Behind him was ice-a mountain of 1t. He climbed the elevation and looked at another stretch of vacant view from a precipice hundred feet high: To his left the ice sloped to sleeper beach than the one behind him, and to the right pile of hummocks and taller peaks, interspersed with numerous can yons and caves and glistening with waterfalls, shut out the horizon in this direction. Nowhere was there sail or steamers smoke to cheer him, and he retraced his steps. When but half way to the wreckage he saw a moving white object approaching from the di- rection of the peaks.
 His eyes were not yet in good condi- l tion, and after an uncertain scrutiny he started at run, for he saw that 1 the mysterious white object was near CT the bridge than himself and rapidly lessening the distance. A hundred
 yards away his heart bounded and the
 blood in his veins felt cold as the ice i to be traveller from the frozen north. lean and famished-a polar bear, who had scented food and was seeking it- coming on at numbering run, with
 great red jaws half open and yellow fangs exposed Rowland had no weap- on but a strong jackknife, but this he
 pulled from his pocket and opened as 1 he ran. Not for an instant did he hesi- i tate at conflict that promised almost certain death, for the presence of this
 bear involved the safety of child whose. life had become of more inn portance to him than his own. To his 1 horror, he saw it creep out of the opening in it's white covering, just as
 the bear turned the corner of the bridge.
 "Go back, baby, go backv' he shout | ed as he bounded down the slope. The bear reached the child first and ! with seemingly no effort dashed 1t,
 with a blow of it's massive paw, a dozen feet away, where it lay quiet
 Turning to follow, the brute was met by Rowland.
 | The bear rose to his launches, sank
 down and charged, and Rowland felt
 the bones of his left sm crushing un.
 der the bite of the big, yellow fanged
 jaws. But, falling, he baried the knife
 blade in the shaggy hide, epd the bear,
 With an angry snarI, syat out the
 mangled member and dealt him a l sweeping blow which sent him farther
 along the ice than the child had gone
 He arose, with broken ribs, and, scarce " feeling the pain, awaited the second