The other on George Nidiver And met him face to face. I say unarmed he stood. Against those frightful paws The rifle but, or club of wood, Could stand no more than straws. George Nidiver stood still And looked him in the face; The wild beast stopped amazed, Then came with slackening pace. Still firm the hunter stood, And gazed with wondering eye. The hunter met his gaze, Nor yet an inch gave way; The bear turned slowly round, And slowly moved away. What thoughts were in his mind What thoughts were in George Nidiver But sure that rifle's aim, Swift choice of generous part, Showed in its passing gleam The depths of a brave heart. |