When the hunters came up, the little one apparently had recovered its strength a little, for it was able to turn round with its dam, however quickly she moved, so as always to keep in front of her belly. Meantime the dogs were actively jumping about the she-bear, tormenting her like so many gadflies; indeed, it was difficult to fire at her without running the risk of killing the dogs. But Hans, one of the hunters, resting on his elbow, took a quiet, steady aim, and shot her through the head. She dropped at once, and rolled over dead, without moving a muscle. Immediately the dogs sprang towards her; but the cub jumped upon her body and reared up, for the first time growling hoarsely. They seemed quite afraid of the little creature, she fought so actively, and made so much noise; and, while tearing mouthfuls of hair from the dead mother, they would spring aside the minute the cub turned towards them. The men drove the dogs off for a time, but were compelled to shoot the cub at last, as she would not quit the body. * * * * * A still more stirring episode is recorded by Dr. Kane, which will fitly conclude our account of the Polar bear. “_Nannook! nannook!_” (A bear! a bear!) With this welcome shout, Hans and Morton, two of his attendants, roused Dr. Kane one fine Saturday morning. To the scandal of his domestic regulations, the guns were all impracticable. While the men were loading and capping anew, Dr. Kane seized his pillow-companion six-shooter, and ran on deck, to discover a medium-sized bear, with a four-months’ cub, in active warfare with the dogs. They were hanging on her skirts, and she, with remarkable alertness, was picking out one victim after another, snatching him by the nape of the neck, and flinging him many feet, or rather yards, by a scarcely perceptible movement of her head. Tudea, the best dog, was already _hors de combat_; he had been tossed twice. Jenny, another of the pack, made an extraordinary somerset of nearly fifty feet, and alighted senseless. Old Whitey, a veteran combatant, stanch, but not “bear-wise,” had been foremost in the battle; soon he lay yelping, helplessly, on the snow. It seemed as if the battle were at an end; and _nannook_ certainly thought so, for she turned aside to the beef-barrels, and began with the utmost composure to turn them over, and nose out their fatness. A bear more innocent of fear does not figure in the old, old stories of Barents and the Spitzbergen explorers.