While most of Lilian Gersdale’s fright was for theman beloved， there was a large portion of it due to theman himself. Never had she dreamed so formidable andmagnificent a savage lurked under the starched shirt andconventional garb of her betrothed. And never had shehad any conception of how a man battled. Such a battlewas certainly not modern； nor was she there beholding amodern man， though she did not know it. For this was notMr. James J. Ward， the San Francisco business man， butone， unnamed and unknown， a crude， rude savage creaturewho， by some freak of chance， lived again after thrice athousand years.
The hounds， ever maintaining their mad uproar， circledabout the fight， or dashed in and out， distracting the bear.
When the animal turned to meet such flanking assaults，the man leaped in and the club came down. Angeredafresh by every such blow， the bear would rush， andthe man， leaping and skipping， avoiding the dogs， wentbackwards or circled to one side or the other. Whereuponthe dogs， taking advantage of the opening， would againspring in and draw the animal’s wrath to them.
The end came suddenly. Whirling， the grizzly caughta hound with a wide sweeping cuff that sent the brute，its ribs caved in and its back broken， hurtling twentyfeet. Then the human brute went mad. A foaming rageflecked the lips that parted with a wild inarticulate cry，as it sprang in， swung the club mightily in both hands，and brought it down full on the head of the uprearinggrizzly. Not even the skull of a grizzly could withstand thecrushing force of such a blow， and the animal went downto meet the worrying of the hounds. And through theirscurrying leaped the man， squarely upon the body， where，in the white electric light， resting on his club， he chanteda triumph in an unknown tongue—a song so ancient thatProfessor Wertz would have given ten years of his life forit.
His guests rushed to possess him and acclaim him，but James Ward， suddenly looking out of the eyes of theearly Teuton， saw the fair frail Twentieth Century girl heloved， and felt something snap in his brain. He staggeredweakly toward her， dropped the club， and nearly fell.
Something had gone wrong with him. Inside his brain wasan intolerable agony. It seemed as if the soul of him wereflying asunder. Following the excited gaze of the others，he glanced back and saw the carcass of the bear. The sightfilled him with fear. He uttered a cry and would havefled， had they not restrained him and led him into thebungalow.
......
James J. Ward is still at the head of the firm of Ward，Knowles & Co. But he no longer lives in the country；nor does he run of nights after the coyotes under themoon. The early Teuton in him died the night of the MillValley fight with the bear. James J. Ward is now whollyJames J. Ward， and he shares no part of his being with anyvagabond anachronism from the younger world. And sowholly is James J. Ward modern， that he knows in all itsbitter fullness the curse of civilized fear. He is now afraidof the dark， and night in the forest is to him a thing ofabysmal terror. His city house is of the spick and spanorder， and he evinces a great interest in burglarproofdevices. His home is a tangle of electric wires， and afterbed-time a guest can scarcely breathe without settingoff an alarm. Also， he had invented a combinationkeyless door-lock that travelers may carry in their vestpockets and apply immediately and successfully under allcircumstances. But his wife does not deem him a coward.
She knows better. And， like any hero， he is content to reston his laurels. His bravery is never questioned by thosefriends who are aware of the Mill Valley episode.