Two things happened at that moment to prevent the trial: the sound of
knocking on a door somewhere, and the roaring rush of the bear upon him.
He sprang to one side, striking at the beast as he did so. The bayonet
went in and out again. There came voices from the outside; evidently
somebody was trying to get in.

The bear roared again and came on. It was all a blind man's game. But
his scent, like the animal's, was keen. He had taken off his coat, and
he now swung it out before him in a half-circle, and as it struck the
bear it covered his own position. He swung aside once more and drove his
arm into the dark. The bayonet struck the nose of the beast.

Now there was a knocking and a hammering at the window, and the wrenching
of the shutters. He gathered himself together for the next assault.
Suddenly he felt that every particle of strength had gone out of him. He
pulled himself up with a last effort. His legs would not support him; he
shivered and swayed. God, would they never get that window open!

His senses were abnormally acute. Another sound attracted him: the
opening of the door, and a voice--Vanne Castine's--calling to the bear.

His heart seemed to give a leap, then slowly to roll over with a thud,
and he fell to the floor as the bear lunged forwards upon him.

A minute afterwards Vanne Castine was goading the savage beast through
the door and out to the hallway into the yard as Nic swung through the
open window into the room.

Castine's lantern stood in the middle of the floor, and between it and
the window lay Ferrol, the broken bayonet still clutched in his right