"Not one chance in a thousand he had company," Beverly insisted; "but no
harm in your keeping a wary eye about, Jack, while Tom gets things in
shape again. I have to stay here with the light. If you've a sharp knife
what's to hinder you from taking one of his claws for a trophy?"
"I'll do that same. Thank you for reminding me, Colin! Some fellows I
know are such Doubting Thomases you have to be in a position to prove
everything you tell them. Tom, loan me that knife of yours, please. It's
got an edge like a razor to it, and those paws look simply immense."
"Make haste about it, for we'll soon be ready to skip out of this place,"
Tom warned him as he handed over the knife.
Jack began to work industriously. He found he had undertaken no mean job
when he contracted to sever one of the front paws of the dead Polar bear.
Not only did he have to cut through ligaments and tough skin, but the
bones themselves gave him no end of trouble.
He solved this by finding the heavy monkey-wrench, and using it as a
hammer, with the knife in place, thus actually severing the paw complete
after considerable trouble.
"There, isn't that a regular beauty to show?" he demanded, holding up the
result of his labor. "I feel something like a young Indian warrior who's
just killed his first grizzly, and means to hang the claws about his neck
to prove his bravery."
He stood looking down at the monster bear for a minute, debating
something in his mind.
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