The redskin found himself walled in by fire behind. He leaped for the pool again, but the bear reached him with one paw first. The stroke ripped his hunting-shirt and leggings fairly from his body. Nothing but shreds of the garments were left and hung upon him--along with shreds of his torn flesh! The redskin yelled and leaped into the water. The bear growled and plunged after him. As he came up Red Knife saw the great body of the beast going down, and he struck at it with his blade again and again. The sharp steel was buried in the body of the brute at each stroke, but all about the shoulders--a part not at all vital. Again and again Red Knife struck before the bear came to the surface, but, although the blood flowed until the agitated pool was dyed red, the bear came up as strong and as ugly as ever. Red Knife threw himself backward and escaped the first plunging blows of the bear. He reached shallow water and leaped ashore, being more agile in this than his bearship. But in doing so he chanced to slip and turn his ankle. The pain was very great for a moment, and the Indian fell to the ground, giving the bear a chance to almost overtake him. Instantly, however, the red turned and struck at his bearship before the latter could seize him with its great, slobbering jaws. An attack always puts a bear on the defensive. He squatted back on his haunches, ready to either hug his enemy or to strike at him with his great forearms, which swung like flails! Red Knife clambered to his feet, but he could not run. The bear would overtake him now in a short race. He poised himself on one foot, holding his dripping blade before him, and, believing himself come to the end of his time, the stoical Indian began to chant the death-song. The growling of the bear almost drowned this cry of the Indian. The latter advanced to embrace death, yet determined to sell his last breath dearly. The flaillike arms of the bear swung to and fro; he champed his teeth and roared. The Indian flung himself with the desperation of a berserker upon the animal, striking again and again with his keen blade. Two awful raking blows the bear got in himself. It stripped the last rag from the Indian’s body, and broke the string of the amulet he wore about his neck, as well. They clinched like two men wrestling, and so rolled into the pool. Splash! they went under the surface. Bubbles and gore rose to the agitated top of the water. Then one of the contestants floated up, struggled a bit, secured a footing, and slowly walked ashore. It was the Indian. It was Red Knife, as naked as when he was born. He sank upon the bank of the stream, the conqueror in a good fight. But he had no joy in his heart. Instead, he was filled with gloom. In the struggle and the last plunge in the pool he had lost his medicine-bag! CHAPTER XXXV. THE SEARCH FOR NEW MEDICINE.