Mr. Winchester kept pegging away, his bullets knocking up water all around the animal. One ball struck the bear in the back. That decided the animal to change its tactics. It quit running away and turned and made directly for its enemies. "Avast rowing," sang out the mate. The men peaked their oars, turned on the thwarts, and had their first chance to watch developments, which came thick and fast. Rabid 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 repeatedly. 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 Blücher 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 disconcerted 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 rammed into the boat bows-on, stuck one mighty paw over the gunwale, and with a snarling roar and a frothing snap of glistening fangs, leaped up and tried to climb aboard. Just at this critical instant Gabriel's boat came into action with a port helm. Louis drove a harpoon into the beast behind the shoulder--drove it up to the haft, so that the spear-head burst out on the other side. At the same moment the mate stuck the muzzle of his rifle almost down the bear's throat and fired. The great brute fell back into the water, clawed and plunged and roared and clashed its teeth and so, in a whirlwind of impotent fury, died. For a moment it lay limp and still among the lapping waves, then slowly began to sink. But Louis held it up with the harpoon line and the animal was towed back to the brig. It measured over seven feet in length and weighed 1,700 pounds--a powerful, gaunt old giant, every inch bone and sinew. Mr. Winchester retrieved the other bear from the ice floe. It was considerably smaller. The pelts were stripped off and the carcasses thrown overboard. The skins were in good condition, despite the earliness of the season. They were stretched on frames fashioned by the cooper, and tanned.