Despite their disbelief in the existence of the Fire Bear, the overwhelming evidence of the last two hours had brought to them a frightful conviction of the truth of all they had heard about the uncanny, fatal monster. Three short months of life was all that was left to them. Such had been the fate of all who had beheld the Fire Bear. Such certainly would be their fate unless Balser could kill him—an event upon which Liney built much greater hope than did Balser. After a long time Balser spoke, in a low tone, that he might not disturb the others:— “Liney, if I only had a charm, I might kill the Fire Bear; but a gun by itself can do nothing against a monster that bears a charmed life. We must have a charm. You’ve read so many books and you know so much; can’t you think of a charm that would help me?” “No, no, Balser,” sighed Liney, “you know more than I, a thousand times.” “Nonsense, Liney. Didn’t you spell down everybody—even the grown folks—over at Caster’s bee?” “Yes, I know I did; but spelling isn’t everything, Balser. It’s mighty little, and don’t teach us anything about charms. You might know how to spell every word in a big book, and still know nothing about charms.” “I guess you’re right,” responded Balser, dolefully. “I wonder how we can learn to make a charm.” “Maybe the Bible would teach us,” said Liney. “They say it teaches us nearly everything.” “I expect it would,” responded Balser. “Suppose you try it.” “I will,” answered Liney. Silence ensued once more, broken only by the moaning wind and the occasional popping of the backlog. After a few minutes Liney said in a whisper:— “Balser, I’ve been thinking, and I’m going to tell you about something I have. It’s a great secret. No one knows of it but mother and father and I. I believe it’s the very thing we want for a charm. It looks like it, and it has strange words engraved upon it.” Balser was alive with interest. “Do you promise never to tell any one about it?” asked Liney. “Yes, yes, indeed. Cross my heart, ’pon honour, hope to die.” Balser’s plain, unadorned promise was enough to bind him to secrecy under ordinary circumstances, for he was a truthful boy; but when his lips were sealed by such oaths as “Cross my heart,” and “Hope to die,” death had no terrors which would have forced him to divulge. “What is it? Quick, quick, Liney!” “You’ll never tell?” “No, cross my—” “Well, I’ll tell you. I’ve a thing at home that’s almost like a cross, only the pieces cross each other in the middle and are broad at each end. It’s a little larger than a big button. It’s gold on the back and has a lot of pieces of glass, each the size of a small pea, on the front side. Only I don’t believe they’re glass at all. They are too bright for glass. You can see them in the dark, where there’s no light at all. They shine and glitter and sparkle, so that it almost makes you blink your eyes. Now you never saw glass like that, did you?” “No,” answered Balser, positively.