It was Gross’s idea to go into Torngat Mountains National Park in Canada’s Arctic. Only a few hundred people went to the park each year, and Gross wanted to be part of that club. Chase did, too, but she worried about hiking in polar bear country.

Two Sierra Club guides were the leaders. Gross, then 60, worked for a housing nonprofit in San Francisco. Chase, 59, a medical consultant from North Carolina. The pair had guided 13 trips together. Joining them were Larry, 63, a New York City lawyer; Frankel, 65, an exercise physiologist(生理学者) from Oregon; Dyer, 48, a legal aid lawyer from Maine; and Isenberg, 55, a physician from Arizona. Chase’s husband, Mendez, 63, a quality-improvement consultant, would be joining them as well.

On Sunday, July 21, 2013, a floatplane carrying the Club party went down toward the eastern shore of the Torngats. The first thing the group did was set up camp 150 yards from the shore. At 4 a. m., Mendez stepped out of his tent-and saw that they weren’t alone. “Polar bear on the beach!” he yelled. A mother and her cub(幼崽)were walking along the shore in the early-morning light.

Over dinner, they laughed, sharing stories of their past trips and lives back home. They didn’t talk much about the bear that was observing them. It seemed almost like a piece of the landscape-just another detail in the impressive setting. Mendez felt reassured by their bear interactions that day. The mother and cub weren’t interested in them. But Dyer couldn’t shake his unease. “Why don’t we post a watch?” he asked. But Gross wasn’t worried. “That’s what the fence is for.” he told Dyer.

They fell asleep listening to the waves. At 3:30 a. m.. Chase woke to screams. From the window of her tent, she saw a polar bear a few feet away. It was down on all fours, eyes level with her, huge and white except for the black of its eyes and nose. “Gross!” she screamed. The bear tore at a neighboring tent and dragged something into the darkness. Gross grabbed his flare gun, ran out in his long underwear, and aimed at the bear. The animal was 75 feet away, heading west.

He saw that what was in the bear’s mouth was not a thing at all-it was Dyer.

The bear dropped Dyer hard and fled.

In the busy city of New York, such an amazing thing ever happened. On a cold Friday night, a poor artist stood at the gate of the subway station, playing his violin. The young violinist was a student at an Arts College named Joseph, who did so every day in order to earn his tuition fees. He planned to attend advanced studies in Vienna and had booked the flight the next morning. Though the music was great, people were quickly going home for the weekend. Joseph was playing his last chapter when a middle aged man looking pretty excited slowed down his pace and put 50 dollars into the hat, for which Joseph was grateful.

The next night, the young artist came to the gate of the subway station as usual, and put his hat on the ground gracefully. Different from the day before, he took out a large piece of paper and laid it on the ground and put some stones on it. Then he began playing the violin.

Before long,   the young artist was surrounded with many passers－by, who were all attracted by the words on that paper. It said, ''Last night, a gentleman named George Sang put an unexpected thing into my hat by mistake. Please come to claim it as soon as possible. ''

It caused a great excitement and curiosity. They were dying to know what the unexpected thing could be. After about half an hour, a middle-aged man ran there in a hurry and rushed through the crowd to the violinist and grabbed his shoulders and said, ''Yes, it's you. You did come here. I knew that you are an honest man and would certainly come here. ''

The young violinist asked calmly, ''Are you Mr. George Sang？''

The man nodded. The violinist asked,   ''Did you lose something？''

''Lottery.   It's lottery，'' replied the man.

The violinist took out a lottery ticket on which George Sang's name was seen. ''Is it？''he asked.

George nodded promptly and seized the lottery ticket and kissed it, and then he danced with Joseph.

Ordinary things on an ordinary night. I wander into the kids’ room. My son, Taylor, 4 years old, sleeps, and I pull the covers around him and kiss his forehead. I walk downstairs to check the hearth (壁炉). The fire is almost out. A thin veil of smoke hangs in the air. I climb upstairs and fall back into bed, but an hour later, panic wakes me. I stand in the kids’ room. The house seems smokier than it did before, but how can that be when the fire burned out hours ago? I crack a window, return to bed, and fall into a dead sleep.

Suddenly, I hear screams. It’s my husband, Troy. “Mary! Get out of the house!”

Hearing the panic in his voice, I sit upright. I run to the bedroom door and swing it open, and I am blown back, knocked to the floor. Searing (灼人的) heat and black smoke surround me, burning my skin. I gasp for breath and crawl across the floor, shielding my mouth and nose.

Without knowing how, I have Taylor in my arms and am at his bedroom window. When I open it, ashes and smoke blow through as the heat is pulled toward us. There’s fire behind me, a 9-meter drop to concrete (混凝土) below.

Troy shouts from another window, “Hold on! I’m coming—I’m gonna jump!” Then the sickening sound of bones against concrete. I scream his name, but he doesn’t respond. I start to cry, but there is no time for panic.

I lower Taylor out his window as far as my arms will stretch so he can breathe. I hold only his tiny hands, his body dangling (晃荡). I am in the center of the firestorm. I choke, spitting out black ashes. Blisters rise on the backs of my legs; the pain becomes unbearable. I have to do something. But there is no grass below, no trees or bushes.