this　was　not　Mr。　James　J。　Ward；　the　San　Francisco　business　man；
  but　one；　unnamed　and　unknown；　a　crude；　rude　savage　creature
  who；　by　some　freak　of　chance；　lived　again　after　thrice　a
  thousand　years。
  The　hounds；　ever　maintaining　their　mad　uproar；　circled　about
  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。　Angered　afresh　by　every　such　blow；　the
  bear　would　rush；　and　the　man；　leaping　and　skipping；　avoiding
  the　dogs；　went　backwards　or　circled　to　one　side　or　the　other。
  Whereupon　the　dogs；　taking　advantage　of　the　opening；　would
  again　spring　in　and　draw　the　animal's　wrath　to　them。
  The　end　came　suddenly。　Whirling；　the　grizzly　caught　a　hound
  with　a　wide　sweeping　cuff　that　sent　the　brute；　its　ribs　caved
  in　and　its　back　broken；　hurtling　twenty　feet。　Then　the　human
  brute　went　mad。　A　foaming　rage　flecked　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　uprearing　grizzly。　Not　even　the　skull　of　a　grizzly　could
  withstand　the　crushing　force　of　such　a　blow；　and　the　animal
  went　down　to　meet　the　worrying　of　the　hounds。　And　through　their
  scurrying　leaped　the　man；　squarely　upon　the　body；　where；　in　the
  white　electric　light；　resting　on　his　club；　he　chanted　a　triumph
  in　an　unknown　tonguea　song　so　ancient　that　Professor　Wertz
  would　have　given　ten　years　of　his　life　for　it。
  His　guests　rushed　to　possess　him　and　acclaim　him；　but　James
  Ward；　suddenly　looking　out　of　the　eyes　of　the　early　Teuton；　saw
  the　fair　frail　Twentieth　Century　girl　he　loved；　and　felt
  something　snap　in　his　brain。　He　staggered　weakly　toward　her；
  dropped　the　club；　and　nearly　fell。　Something　had　gone　wrong
  with　him。　Inside　his　brain　was　an　intolerable　agony。　It　seemed
  as　if　the　soul　of　him　were　flying　asunder。　Following　the
  excited　gaze　of　the　others；　he　glanced　back　and　saw　the　carcass
  of　the　bear。　The　sight　filled　him　with　fear。　He　uttered　a　cry
  and　would　have　fled；　had　they　not　restrained　him　and　led　him
  into　the　bungalow。
  。　　。　　。　　　。　　　　。　　　。
  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　the　moon。　The　early　Teuton　in
  him　died　the　night　of　the　Mill　Valley　fight　with　the　bear。
  James　J。　Ward　is　now　wholly　James　J。　Ward；　and　he　shares　no
  part　of　his　being　with　any　vagabond　anachronism　from　the
  younger　world。　And　so　wholly　is　James　J。　Ward　modern；　that　he
  knows　in　all　its　bitter　fullness　the　curse　of　civilized　fear。
  He　is　now　afraid　of　the　dark；　and　night　in　the　forest　is　to　him
  a　thing　of　abysmal　terror。　His　city　house　is　of　the　spick　and
  span　order；　and　he　evinces　a　great　interest　in　burglarproof
  devices。　His　home　is　a　tangle　of　electric　wires；　and　after
  bed…time　a　guest　can　scarcely　breathe　without　setting　off　an
  alarm。　Also；　he　had　invented　a　combination　keyless　door…lock
  that　travelers　may　carry　in　their　vest　pockets　and　apply
  immediately　and　successfully　under　all　circumstances。　But　his
  wife　does　not　deem　him　a　coward。　She　knows　better。　And；　like
  any　hero；　he　is　content　to　rest　on　his　laurels。　His　bravery　is
  never　questioned　by　those　friends　who　are　aware　of　the　Mill
  Valley　episode。
  THE　BENEFIT　OF　THE　DOUBT
  CARTER　WATSON；　a　current　magazine　under　his　arm；　strolled
  slowly　along；　gazing　about　him　curiously。　Twenty　years　had
  elapsed　since　he　had　been　on　this　particular　street；　and　the
  changes　were　great　and　stupefying。　This　Western　city　of　three
  hundred　thousand　souls　had　contained　but　thirty　thousand；　when；
  as　a　boy；　he　had　been　wont　to　ramble　along　its　streets。　In
  those　days　the　street　he　was　now　on　had　been　a　quiet　residence
  street　in　the　respectable　workingclass　quarter。　On　this　late
  afternoon　he　found　that　it　had　been　submerged　by　a　vast　and
  vicious　tenderloin。　Chinese　and　Japanese　shops　and　dens
  abounded；　all　confusedly　intermingled　with　low　white　resorts
  and　boozing　dens。　This　quiet　street　of　his　youth　had　become　the
  toughest　quarter　of　the　city。
  He　looked　at　his　watch。　It　was　half…past　five。　It　was　the　slack
  time　of　the　day　in　such　a　region；　as　he　well　knew；　yet　he　was
  curious　to　see。　In　all　his　score　of　years　of　wandering　and
  studying　social　conditions　over　the　world；　he　had　carried　with
  him　the　memory　of　his　old　town　as　a　sweet　and　wholesome　place。
  The　metamorphosis　he　now　beheld　was　startling。　He　certainly
  must　continue　his　stroll　and　glimpse　the　infamy　to　which　his
  town　had　descended。
  Another　thing：　Carter　Watson　had　a　keen　social　and　civic
  consciousness。　Independently　wealthy；　he　had　been　loath　to
  dissipate　his　energies　in　the　pink　teas　and　freak　dinners　of
  society；　while　actresses；　race…horses；　and　kindred　diversions
  had　left　him　cold。　He　had　the　ethical　bee　in　his　bonnet　and　was
  a　reformer　of　no　mean　pretension；　though　his　work　had　been
  mainly　in　the　line　of　contributions　to　the　heavier　reviews　and
  quarterlies　and　to　the　publication　over　his　name　of　brightly；
  cleverly　written　books　on　the　working　classes　and　the
  slum…dwellers。　Among　the　twenty…seven　to　his　credit　occurred
  titles　such　as；　〃If　Christ　Came　to　New　Orleans；〃　〃　The
  Worked…out　Worker；〃　〃Tenement　Reform　in　Berlin；〃　〃The　Rural
  Slums　of　England；〃　〃The　people　of　the　East　Side；〃　〃Reform
  Versus　Revolution；〃　〃The　University　Settlement　as　a　Hot　Bed　of
  Radicalism'　and　〃The　Cave　Man　of　Civilization。〃
  But　Carter　Watson　was　neither　morbid　nor　fanatic。　He　did　not
  lose　his　head　over　the　horrors　he　encountered；　studied；　and
  exposed。　No　hair　brained　enthusiasm　branded　him。　His　humor
  saved　him；　as　did　his　wide　experience　and　his　con。　conservative
  philosophic　temperament。　Nor　did　he　have　any　patience　with
  lightning　change　reform　theories。　As　he　saw　it；　society　would
  grow　better　only　through　the　painfully　slow　and　arduously
  painful　processes　of　evolution。　There　were　no　short　cuts；　no
  sudden　regenerations。　The　betterment　of　mankind　must　be　worked
  out　in　agony　and　misery　just　as　all　past　social　betterments　had
  been　worked　out。
  But　on　this　late　summer　afternoon；　Carter　Watson　was　curious。
  As　he　moved　along　he　paused　before　a　gaudy　drinking　place。　The
  sign　above　read；　〃The　Vendome。〃　There　were　two　entrances。　One
  evidently　led　to　the　bar。　This　he　did　not　explore。　The　other
  was　a　narrow　hallway。　Passing　through　this　he　found　himself　in
  a　huge　room；　filled　with　chair…encircled　tables　and　quite
  deserted。　In　the　dim　light　he　made　out　a　piano　in　the　distance。
  Making　a　mental　note　that　he　would　come　back　some　time　and
  study　the　class　of　persons　that　must　sit　and　drink　at　those
  multitudinous　tables；　he　proceeded　to　circumnavigate　the　room。
  Now；　at　the　rear；　a　short　hallway　led　off　to　a　small　kitchen；
  and　here；　at　a　table；　alone；　sat　Patsy　Horan；　proprietor　of　the
  Vendome；　consuming　a　hasty　supper　ere　the　evening　rush　of
  business。　Also；　Patsy　Horan　was　angry　with　the　world。　He　had
  got　out　of　the　wrong　side　of　bed　that　morning；　and　nothing　had
  gone　right　all　day。　Had　his　barkeepers　been　asked；　they　would
  have　described　his　mental　condition　as　a　grouch。　But　Carter
  Watson　did　not　know　this。　As　he　passed　the　little　hallway；
  Patsy　Horan's　sullen　eyes　lighted　on　the　magazine　he　carried
  under　his　arm。　Patsy　did　not　know　Carter　Watson；　nor　did　he
  know　that　what　he　carried　under　his　arm　was　a　magazine。　Patsy；
  out　of　the　depths　of　his　grouch；　decided　that　this　stranger　was
  one　of　those　pests　who　marred　and　scarred　the　walls　of　his　back
  rooms　by　tacking　up　or　pasting　up　advertisements。　The　color　on
  the　front　cover　of　the　magazine　convinced　him　that　it　was　such
  an　advertisement。　Thus　the　trouble　began。　Knife　and　fork　in
  hand；　Patsy　leaped　for　Carter　Watson。
  〃Out　wid　yeh！〃　Patsy　bellowed。　〃I　know　yer　game！〃
  Carter　Watson　was　startled。　The　man　had　come　upon　him　like　the
  eruption　of　a　jack…in…the…box。
  〃A　defacin'　me　walls；〃　cried　Patsy；　at　the　same　time　emitting　a
  string　of　vivid　and　vile；　rather　than　virile；　epithets　of
  opprobrium。
  〃If　I　have　given　any　offense　I　did　not　mean　to〃
  But　that　was　as　far　as　the　visitor　got。　Patsy　interrupted。
  〃Get　out　wid　yeh；　yeh　talk　too　much　wid　yer　mouth；〃　quoted
  Patsy；　emphasizing　his　remarks　with　flourishes　of　the　knife　and
  fork。
  Carter　Watson　caught　a　quick　vision　of　that　eating…fork
  inserted　uncomfortably　between　his　ribs；　knew　that　it　would　be
  rash　to　talk　further　with　his　mouth；　and　promptly　turned　to　go。
  The　sight　of　his　meekly　retreating　back　must　have　further
  enraged　Patsy　Horan；　for　that　worthy；　dropping　the　table
  implements；　sprang　upon　him。
  Patsy　weighed　one　hundred　and　eighty　pounds。　So　did　Watson。　In
  this　they　were　equal。　But　Patsy　was　a　rushing；　rough…and…tumble
  saloon…fighter；　while　Watson　was　a　boxer。　In　this　the　latter
  had　the　advantage；　for　Patsy　came　in　wide　open；　swing