"Oho!" he said to himself. "Now I know what it all means! This is the Enchanted Bear of whom I have heard so much,--the great White Bear of the North. That is why she could talk to me, and why I could understand. That is why her newborn cub is a human child, _until she looks at it_. Mistress Bear has not yet seen her little one. Ho! What a prize for a hunter to take home! This enchanted bear-baby will remain human, if I can steal her away where her mother will never set eyes on her. That will be something to show the other fellows, I should say!" On the preceding night Hans had noted that the ice-floe was approaching nearer to the land. This morning they were very close to shore. Many ice-cakes floated about, and by jumping from one to another long-legged Hans knew that he could make the land. Very gently he took the little white baby, so soft and warm, in his great hands and wrapped it under his coat, so that the old bear should not see it. Then silently and stealthily he prepared to depart. But when he moved away from her side the old bear wakened suddenly and called after him,-- "Where are you going, friend Hans? What are you doing with my little cub that I have never seen?" Hans did not stop to explain, but clasping the baby tightly, darted off over the ice-field toward the land. Surprised and fearful, the old bear rose and looked after him with wide eyes of reproach. Then when she realized what he meant to do, she shook herself with a mighty roar, and her eyes grew bright and fierce. She started in pursuit. It was a terrible chase! Hans was swift-footed; but after all the ice was not his natural ground. The bear who had seemed so clumsy traveled over the ice with miraculous speed, as polar bears do. Hans heard her panting behind him, drawing nearer and nearer, and his heart sank low. He knew how sharp her claws were, and how strong her teeth. She was gaining upon him; but he would not give up the baby. The hard spot in his heart grew harder. Burdened as he was, he turned about and raising his gun fired it at the bear. His aim was good,--for was he not Hans the Hunter? With a moan the great bear fell, and he saw a stream of blood dye the ice-floe which he had so long shared with her as a home. Hans did not pause to mourn over the faithful friend who had kept him alive and warm for so many nights; but leaving her on the ice to die, sped shoreward with his burden, jumping lightly from cake to cake of ice until he reached the land.