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Bruin: The Grand Bear Hunt

by Mayne Reid · English · Gutenberg #27993 · 548,659 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: Bruin: The Grand Bear Hunt

Author: Mayne Reid

Illustrator: Johann Baptist Zwecker


        
Release date: February 4, 2009 [eBook #27993]

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/27993

Credits: Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BRUIN: THE GRAND BEAR HUNT ***




Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England




Bruin, by Captain Mayne Reid.

________________________________________________________________________
The story told is quite good one, but is rather spoilt by the author's
insistence on showing how clever he is by calling the animals and plants
that appear in the story, by their Latin names.

Two young brothers, the sons of a Russian nobleman, ask their father if
they may spend a while travelling the world.  He agrees, but lays down
two conditions: one, that they should bring back the skins, in good
condition, of every species of bear there is; two, that they should
proceed from east to west, or from west to east, without doubling back
on their tracks, except, of course, while actually engaged in the chase.

The boys, for they are still in their teens, accept the conditions, and
set off westward, visiting all sorts of interesting places in Europe and
elsewhere, and gathering numerous bearskin trophies on the way.  Oddly
enough they never go to Australia, but maybe the Koala bear is not a
bear, within the definition of the word.

They take with them an old retired guardsman, Pouchskin, who looks after
them generally, and takes a lot of the knocks of the journey.
Eventually they return home, where the boys are lauded as heroes,
and Pouchskin returns to obscurity.
________________________________________________________________________
BRUIN, BY CAPTAIN MAYNE REID.



CHAPTER ONE.

THE PALACE GRODONOFF.

On the banks of the Neva, near the great city of Saint Petersburg,
stands a splendid palace, known as the Palace Grodonoff.  It is the
property of a Russian nobleman of that name, as it is also his place of
residence.  Were you to drive up to the front gate of this grand palace,
you would see a coat-of-arms sculptured in granite over the entrance.
In this piece of sculpture, the principal and most striking figure is a
bear, with the blade of a knife buried in his breast, the haft being
clutched by a human hand!  Open the gate, and enter the spacious
courtyard.  Inside, on the right and left, you will observe two live
bears--both of chestnut-brown colour, and each of them as big as a
buffalo.  You cannot fail to notice them, for, ten chances to one, they
will rush towards you with fierce growls; and were it not that a strong
chain hinders them from reaching you, you might have reason to repent
having entered the courtyard of the palace Grodonoff.  Look around you
in the courtyard and over the different doors that open upon it; you
will again see the crest of the bear, sculptured in stone; you will see
it over the stables, the coach-house, the granary, the kitchens,--
everywhere.  You may know by all this, that it is the coat-of-arms of
the Baron Grodonoff, whose crest is a bear with a blade buried in its
breast, and a human band clutching the haft.

You will naturally conclude that there is some history connected with
this singular tableau--that it is the commemoration of some deed done by
a Grodonoff, entitling him to use the bear as his heraldic device.  This
is quite true; and if you enter the picture-gallery of the palace, you
will there behold the deed more explicitly represented, in a large
oil-painting hung conspicuously in the centre of the wall.  The scene of
this painting is a forest of old trees, whose grey, gnarled trunks stand
thickly over the ground.  There is only a little open space or glade in
the middle; and this is occupied by three figures, two men and a bear.
The bear is between the two men; or, rather, one of the men is prostrate
upon the ground--where he has been struck down by a blow from Bruin's
paw--while the huge animal stands over him reared up on his hind
quarters.  The other man is upon his feet, apparently engaged in a
desperate wrestle with the fierce brute, and likely to prove the
conqueror--as he has already buried the blade of a large hunting-knife
in the animal's breast, and directly over the region of its heart.
Indeed, the shaggy monster already shows signs of succumbing.  His paw
has dropped from the shoulder of his antagonist, his long tongue lolls
out, the blood rushes from his mouth and nostrils, and it is evident
that his strength is fast forsaking him, and that he will soon sink
lifeless upon the earth.  You will notice that the two men who figure in
the painting are very dissimilar in appearance.  Both are young men, and
both are in hunting costume; but so unlike in their dress, that you
could not fancy they followed the same occupation.  He upon the ground
is richly attired.  He wears a tunic of finest green cloth slashed with
sable fur on the skirt, collar, and sleeves; his limbs are encased in
breeches of white doeskin; and his boots, reaching nearly to his thighs,
are of soft russet leather, ample at the tops.  A belt around his waist
is richly embroidered; and the hilt of a short hunting-sword, protruding
from the sheath, appears chased and studded with jewels.  A light plumed
hat lies upon the ground near his head--evidently tossed off in the
struggle--and beside it is a boar-spear that has been jerked out of his
fingers as he fell.  The whole costume is similar to that used upon the
stage--when some young German or Sclavonian prince is represented as
hunting the wild boar in the forests of Lithuania.

In reality it is a prince who is depicted in the group of the gallery
Grodonoff--but not a German prince.  He is a Russian, and the bear is
the Russian bear.

The other hunter--he who had given its death-blow to the fierce
quadruped--is dressed in a style entirely different.  It is the costume
of a fur-hunter--a trapper of sables--and consists of skin coat and cap,
with a strong leathern belt round his waist, and rough boots of untanned
hide upon his legs and feet.  The costume is rude, and bespeaks him a
peasant; but his face, as the painter has represented it, is neither
common nor ill-looking.  It is not so handsome as that of the prince:
for he would be an unskilful artist--one utterly reckless of his own
fortune--who should paint the features of a peasant as handsome as those
of a prince.  In Russia, as elsewhere, such an imprudent painter would
be a _rara avis_ indeed.

The picture of which we are speaking is the _piece de resistance_ of the
Grodonoff gallery.  Its size and conspicuous position declare the fact;
and the story attached to it will show that it merits the distinction.
But for that picture, or rather the scene which it represents, there
would be no Grodonoff gallery--no palace--no baron of the name.
Paintings, palace, title, all have their origin in the incident there
represented--the battle with the bear.

The story is simple and may be briefly told.  As, already stated, he
upon his back, hat off, and spear detached from his grasp, is a Russian
prince--or rather was one, for at the time when our history commences he
is an emperor.  He had been hunting the wild boar; and, as often happens
to sporting princes, had become separated from his courtier attendants.
The enthusiasm of the chase had led him on, into the fastnesses of the
forest, where he came suddenly face to face with a bear.  Princes have
their hunter ambition as well as other men; and, in hopes of tailing a
trophy, this one attacked the bear with his boar-spear.  But the thrust
that might have penetrated the flesh of a wild boar, had no effect upon
the tough thick hide of Bruin.  It only irritated him; and as the brown
bear will often do, he sprang savagely upon his assailant, and with his
huge paw gave the prince such a "pat" upon the shoulder, as not only
sent the spear shivering from his grasp, but stretched his royal
highness at full length upon the grass.

Following up his advantage, the bear had bounded forward upon the
prostrate body; and, no doubt, in the twinkling of a bedpost would have
made a corpse of it--either squeezing the breath out of it by one of his
formidable "hugs," or tearing it to pieces with his trenchant teeth.  In
another moment the hope of Russia would have been extinguished; but,
just at this crisis, a third figure appeared upon the scene--in the
person of a young hunter--a _real_ one--who had already been in pursuit
of the bear, and had tracked him up to the spot.

On coming upon the ground, the hunter fired his gun; but, seeing that
the shot was insufficient, he drew his knife and rushed upon the bear.
A desperate struggle ensued, in which, as may be already anticipated,
the young hunter proved victorious--having succeeded in sheathing his
blade in the heart of the bear, and causing the savage quadruped to
"bite the dust."

Neither the prince nor the peasant came scathless out of the encounter.
Both were well scratched; but neither had received any wound of a
serious nature; and the amateur hunter rose once more to his feet,
conscious of having made a very narrow escape.

I need not add that the prince was profuse in his expressions of
gratitude to him who had saved his life.  The young hunter was not one
of his own party, but a stranger to him, whose home was in the forest
where the incident occurred.  But their acquaintance did not end with
the adventure.  The prince became an emperor--the peasant hunter a
lieutenant in the Imperial Guard, afterwards a captain, a colonel, a
general, and finally a baron of the empire!

His name?

Grodonoff,--he in whose palace hangs the picture we have described.



CHAPTER TWO.

THE BARON GRODONOFF.

In one of the apartments of the palace Grodonoff, behold its proprietor,
the baron himself!  He is seated in an old oak chair, with a heavy table
of the same material in front of him.  On the table is spread out a map
of the world; and by the side of the chair stands a large terrestrial
globe.  Several shelves standing against the wails contain books; and
yet the apartment is not a library in the proper sense of the word:
rather is it a large oblong saloon; having three of its sides occupied
by spacious glass cases, in which are exhibited objects of natural
history,--birds, quadrupeds, reptiles, and insects,--all mounted in
proper form and arranged in due order.  It is, in fact, a museum,--a
private collection--made by the baron himself; and the books that fill
the shelves are works relating to natural history alone.

In a man of military aspect--an old veteran with snow-white hair, and
grand moustaches of like hue--such as he who is seated at the table--you
would scarce expect to meet the lover of a study so pacific in its
character as that of natural history?  Rather would you look to find him
pouring over plans of fortifications, with the pages of Yauban spread
open before him; or some history detailing the campaigns of Suwarrow,
Diebitsch, Paskiewitch or Potemkin?  In this instance, however,
appearances were deceptive.  Though the baron had proved an excellent
military officer, and seen service, he was a student of Nature.  His
early years, spent as a hunter, had begot within him a taste for natural
history; which, as soon as the opportunity offered, had become developed
by study and research.  It was now no longer a predilection, but a
passion; and in his retirement nearly the whole of his time was devoted
to his favourite study.  A vast fortune, which his grateful sovereign
had bestowed upon him, enabled him to command the means for gratifying
his taste; and the magnificent collection by which he was surrounded
gave evidence that no expense was spared in its gratification.

It was a map and globe of the world that now occupied his attention.
Could these have reference to a question of natural history?

In an indirect manner they had,--and what follows will account for their
presence.

A hand-bell stood upon the table.  The baron rang it; and before its
tingling had ceased, the door opened, and a servant entered the
apartment.

"Summon my sons to attend me!"

The servant bowed, and retired.

A few minutes after, two youths entered the apartment.  They appeared to
be of the respective ages of sixteen and eighteen.  One, the elder and
taller, was of a darkish complexion, with brown waving hair, and hazel
eyes.  The expression of his countenance was that of a youth of firm and
rather serious character; while the style of his dress, or rather his
manner of wearing it, showed that he was altogether without vanity in
matters of personal appearance.  He was handsome withal, having that
aristocratic air common to the nobility of Russia.  This was Alexis.

The younger brother differed from him as much as if no kinship existed
between them.  He was more the son of his mother, the baroness; while
Alexis inherited the features and a good deal of the disposition of his
father.  Ivan was a fair-haired lad, with golden locks curling over a
forehead of bright blonde complexion, and cheeks that exhibited the hue
of the rose.  His eyes were of a deep azure-blue--such as is often seen
among the Sclavonic races--and their quick sparkle told that in the
breast of Ivan there beat a heart brimming with bright thoughts, and
ever ready for mischief and merriment, but without any admixture of
malice.

Both approached their father with a serious expression of countenance.
That of Alexis bespoke sincerity; while Ivan stole forward with the air
of one who had been recently engaged in some sly mischief, and who was
assuming a demure deportment with the design of concealing it.

A word about these two youths, and the object for which their father had
summoned them into his presence.  They had now been each of them more
than ten years engaged in the study of books, under some of the ablest
teachers that Russia could furnish.  Their father himself had given much
time to their instruction; and, of course, an inclination to their minds
similar to that which characterised his own, but chiefly to the mind of
Alexis.

The latter had imbibed a fondness for the study of nature, while Ivan
was more given to admire the records of stirring events, with a strong
_penchant_ for the splendours of the world, in which he felt longing to
bear a part.  The nature of the books which had passed through their
hands--a great number of them being books of travel--had begotten within
these youths a wish to see the world, which, increasing each day, had
grown into an eager desire.  This desire had been often expressed in
hints to their father; but at length, in a more formal manner, by means
of a written petition, which the boys, after much deliberation, had
drawn up and presented to him, and which was now seen lying open before
him upon the table.

The petition was simply their united request, that their father would be
so good as to allow them to travel and see foreign countries--where, and
how, to be left to his wise guidance and discretion.

It was to receive an answer to this petition, that his sons were now
summoned into his presence.



CHAPTER THREE.

THE SEALED ORDERS.

"So, my youngsters!" said the baron, directing his glance upon them,
"you have a desire to to travel?  You wish to see the world, do you?"

"True, papa!" modestly answered Alexis; "our tutor tells us that we are
sufficiently educated to go abroad; and, if you have no objection, we
should very much like to make a tour."

"What! before going to the University!"

"Why, papa!  I thought you were not going to send us to the University
for some time to come?  Did you not say, that a year of travelling was
worth ten at a University?"

"Perhaps I may have said so; but that depends upon _how_ one travels.
If you travel merely to amuse yourselves, you may go over all the world,
and come back no wiser than when you started!  I have known many a man
return from a circumnavigation of the globe, without bringing with him
the knowledge of a single fact that he might not have obtained at home.
You would expect to travel in snug railway-carriages, and comfortable
steam-ships, and sleep in splendid hotels--is that your expectation?"

"Oh no, papa! whatever way you may direct, that will be agreeable to
me," said Alexis.

"As for me," rejoined Ivan, "I'm not particular.  I can rough it, I'm
sure."

There was a little flavour of _bravado_ in the manner of Ivan's speech,
that showed he was scarce inclined to the roughing system, and that he
merely assumed the swaggering air, because he had no belief that he
would be called upon to make trial of it.

"If I permit you to travel," continued the baron, "where would you like
to go?  You, Alexis! to what part of the world would your inclination
lead you?"

"I should like to see the new world of America--its noble rivers, and
forests, and mountains.  I should certainly visit America, if it were
left to my choice; but I shall be guided by you, papa, and do as you
direct."

"You, Ivan?"

"Paris, for me, of all places in the world!" replied Ivan, without any
suspicion that the answer would be displeasing to the father.

"I might have known so," muttered the baron, with a slight frown
clouding his forehead.

"O papa!" added Ivan, noticing the shade of displeasure which his answer
had produced; "I don't care particularly about Paris.  I'll go
anywhere--to America, if Alexis likes it best--_all round the world_ for
that matter."

"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed the baron; "that sounds better, Ivan; and, since
you offer no objection to it, _all round the world you shall go_."

"Indeed?  I'm glad to hear it," said Alexis.

"What! visit all the great cities of the world?" exclaimed Ivan, whose
mind was evidently occupied with the delights of great cities.

"_So_" replied his father; "it is just that which I do not intend you
shall do.  There is a great deal to be learnt in cities, but much that
would be better not learnt at all.  I have no objection to your passing
through cities--for you must needs do so on your journey--but one of the
conditions which I shall prescribe is, that you make stay in no city,
longer than you can arrange for getting out of it.  It is through
_countries_ I wish you to travel--amidst the scenes of nature--and not
in towns and cities, where you would see very little more than you can
in Saint Petersburg itself.  It is Nature I wish you to become
acquainted with, and you must see it in its most primitive forms.  There
only can you appreciate Nature in all its sublimity and grandeur."

"Agreed, papa!" exclaimed both the boys at once.  "Which way do you wish
us to go?"

"All round the world, as Ivan has suggested."

"Oh, what a long voyage!  I suppose we shall cross the Atlantic, and
then by the isthmus of Panama to the Pacific; or shall we go as Magellan
went, around Cape Horn?"

"Neither way--I wish you to make great journeys by land, rather than
voyages by sea.  The former will be more instructive, though they may
cost more time and toil.  Remember, my sons!  I do not send you forth to
risk your lives without a purpose.  I have more than one purpose.
First, I wish you to complete your studies of natural science, of which
I have taught you the elements.  The best school for this is the field
of Nature herself, which you shall explore in your travels.  Secondly,
as you both know, I am fond of all natural objects, but especially those
that have life--the beasts of the field and the birds of the air; these
you must observe in their native haunts, with their habits and modes of
existence.  You will keep a journal of all facts and events that may be
worth noting down, and write out in detail such adventures as may occur
to you upon your route, and you think may prove interesting to me to
read on your return.  I shall provide you with ample means to accomplish
your journey; but no money is to be wasted by idly sojourning in large
cities: it must be used only for the necessary expenses of your travels.
The emperor has been kind enough to give you a circular letter, which
will get you funds and such other assistance as you may require from his
agents in all parts of the world."

"We promise, dear father, strictly to adhere to your instructions.  But
whither do you desire us to go?"  Alexis asked the question.

The baron paused for some time before making reply.  Then, drawing from
his desk a sealed paper, which showed signs of having been but recently
folded, he gravely said as he held it towards them--

"In this document you will find the conditions upon which I give you
permission to travel.  I do not ask you to agree to them, until you have
carefully examined and reflected upon them.  You will therefore retire
to your room, read this document over, and, having given its contents
due consideration, return, and signify whether you accept the terms; for
if not, there is to be no travelling."

"_By the Great Peter_!" whispered Ivan to Alexis, "they will be hard
indeed if we don't accept them."

Alexis took the paper, and both, bowing to their father, retired to
their own apartment.

The seal was immediately broken and not without some surprise did they
peruse the contents of the document.  It was in the form of an epistle,
and ran thus:--

"My sons Alexis and Ivan!--You have expressed a desire to travel, and
have requested me to give you my permission.  I accede to your request,
but only upon the following conditions: You must procure for me a skin
of every variety of bear known upon the earth.  I do not mean such
varieties as are termed `accidental,' arising from albinism or like
circumstances, but every species or variety known to naturalists and
acknowledged as `permanent.'  The bears from which these skins are to be
taken must be killed in their native haunts, and by your own hands--with
no other assistance than that of an attendant whom I shall appoint to
accompany you.  In order to accomplish the task which I have imposed
upon you, it will be necessary for you to go `round the world;' but I
add the further condition, that you are to go _only once round it_.  In
_latitude_, I leave you free to range--from pole to pole, if it so
please you [this was a stretch of liberty at which both boys laughed];
but _longitudinally_, no.  You must not cross the same meridian twice
before returning to Saint Petersburg.  I do not intend this condition to
apply to such traverses as you may be compelled to make, while actually
engaged in the chase of a bear, or in tracking the animal to his den:
only when you are _en route_ upon your journey.  You will take your
departure from Saint Petersburg, and go east or west, which you please.
From the conditions I have imposed upon you, I hope you will have skill
enough to discover that a route is traced out for you, and, that, on
starting, you _can_ follow it either eastward or westward.  This, with
all matters relating to your means and mode of travelling, I leave to
your own choice; and I trust that the practical education you have
received will enable you to make your tour with proper judgment.
[`Tour, indeed!' exclaimed Ivan.]  Once out of my palace, I take no
farther charge of you.  You may be some years older before I see you
again; but I trust the time will not be mis-spent; and that upon your
return you may be able to give a proper account of yourselves, is the
earnest hope and wish of your affectionate father, Michael Grodonoff."



CHAPTER FOUR.

DISCUSSING THE CONDITIONS.

The two youths were no little astonished by the contents of this
singular epistle; but, for all that, the terms imposed did not seem to
them either harsh or unreasonable, and they were only too pleased to
accede to them.  They partly guessed their father's motive.  They knew
that he loved both of them with a true paternal love; but his affection
was not of that kind to pet and pamper them within the precincts of his
luxurious palace.  He had a different idea of what would be beneficial
to their future interests.  He believed in the education which is
acquired in the rude school of toil and travel, more than in the
book-lore of classic universities; and he was determined that they
should have a full measure of this sort of training.  He had resolved
that they _should_ see the world; not according to the ordinary
understanding of this hackneyed phrase--not the world of towns and great
cities, with their empty shows and vices--but the _world of Nature_;
and, in order that they should have the opportunity of becoming
thoroughly acquainted with this sort of world, he had traced out for
them a route that would lead them into its very wildest scenes, and
disclose to them its rarest and most primitive forms.

"By my word, brother!" exclaimed Ivan as soon as Alexis had finished
reading the letter, "we shall have travelling to our hearts' content.
Certainly, papa has adopted a strange plan to keep us out of the walls
of great cities."

"Yes," quietly answered Alexis; "there are not many cities where bears
abound."

"Such strange conditions!" added Ivan, "I wonder what father can mean by
imposing them upon us."

"Indeed, I hardly know myself.  One thing only seems to explain it."

"What is that, brother?"

"You are aware, Ivan, of the interest that papa takes in all matters
relating to bears.  As people say, it is almost a mania with him."

"Oh! the great picture in the gallery will account for that," said Ivan,
laughing.  "But for a _bear_, you know, our papa would never have been a
_baron_."

"True: that may have been what first led him to take an interest in
these animals."

"And yet to impose upon us these queer conditions!" continued Ivan; "it
certainly does seem a little eccentric?"

"No doubt papa has his purpose," said Alexis.  "Who knows that he may
not be intending to write a _monograph_ of the bears; and it is for this
he wishes to have full set of their skins--the complete costume of each
individual member of Monsieur Bruin's family?  Well, we must do our
best, and procure them for him.  It is not for us to inquire into the
motives of our dear father.  It is our duty to obey his orders--even
though the task be ever so irksome or difficult."

"Oh, certainly, brother!  I admit that; and I am ready to yield
obedience and perform any task dear papa may think proper to impose on
us."

Certainly there was some reason for the surprise with which the youths
had read the letter.  Its contents might have appeared still more
whimsical to them, had it not been their father that had written it;
and, but for the fact that he had already given them a thorough training
in the natural sciences, they would have found it difficult, if not
altogether impossible, to carry out his instructions.  A bear of every
known variety was to be killed and skinned--killed, too, in its own
haunts and by their own hands; which, of course, meant that they were to
visit every country where bears are to be found, and obtain a skin of
each kind.  Notwithstanding their youth both boys were skilled hunters,
and excellent marksmen.  Himself brought up to the calling, their father
had early initiated them into the hunter's craft; and, in addition to
the knowledge of natural history, which he had imparted, he had taught
them habits of self-reliance--such as are only acquired by ordinary
individuals at the full age of manhood.  Both were already inured to
such perils and hardships as are incidental to a hunter's life; both
could endure to go a day or two without food or drink--could sleep in
the open air, with no other tent than the canopy of heaven, and no other
couch than the grassy covering of the earth.  All this sort of
experience they had already gone through, in the cold climate of their
own country; and it was not likely they would meet with one much more
rigorous anywhere on the earth.  The young Grodonoffs had been submitted
to a training of almost Spartan severity--a perfect _Cyropoedia_--and
dreaded neither hardships nor dangers.  They were just the youths to
carry out that singular programme which had been traced for them by the
paternal hand.

Was it possible, however to do so?  This was their first query.  There
were some very nice points in that brief chapter of instructions.
_Latitudinally_ they might traverse as circumstances required, but not
_longitudinally_.  Under these limitations would it be possible to visit
the haunts of all the bears,--to cover, as it were, the whole area of
Bruin's geographical distribution?

That it was possible might be inferred, from the fact of their father
having issued the orders; but it was necessary for the young
expeditionists to set out with caution: else might they take a wrong
route, and be altogether unable to fulfil his injunctions.  They must
_not twice cross the same meridian_.  It was this quaint condition that
puzzled them, and rendered it necessary to guard against making a false
start.

Lucky it was that Alexis was an accomplished zoologist, and thoroughly
understood the geographical distribution of the genus _ursus_.  But for
this knowledge, they would certainly have been puzzled as to the route
they were to take.

"Well, brother Ivan!" said Alexis with a smile, "had these orders been
issued when the great Swede published his _Systema Naturae_, our task
would have been easily accomplished.  How far do you suppose our travels
need to have extended?"

"I don't quite comprehend you, Alexis.  How far?"

"Why, simply into the courtyard of our palace.  It would have been only
necessary to kill and skin one of the great bears chained by the gate,
and that would have fulfilled all the conditions papa has imposed upon
us."

"And yet, I don't understand you," rejoined Ivan, with a puzzled look.

"How obtuse you are, brother!  Read the letter again; note well its
terms!"

"Well, I understand them.  We are to travel on, and not come home again
till we have killed a bear of every variety known."

"There--just so.  Of course papa means every variety known to
naturalists,--that is, to the `scientific world,' as it is termed.  Now
you comprehend my meaning?"

"Oh, yes!" answered Ivan; "you mean that when Linnaeus published his
`System of Nature,' only our own brown bear of Europe was known to
naturalists?"

"Precisely so--only the _ursus arctos_; and consequently we should have
had but a very short journey to make, compared with what is before us
now.  It is true that previous to his death, the Swedish naturalist had
made the acquaintance of the `Polar' bear (_ursus maritimus_); but,
strange enough, he regarded this as a mere variety of the _ursus
arctos_--an error that one may wonder Linnaeus could have made.

"Oh, they are very different.  I could tell that myself.  To say nothing
of the colour, they are unlike in shape; and, as everybody knows, their
habits are very dissimilar.  Why, one lives in forests, and feeds
chiefly upon fruits; while the other dwells amidst fields of snow and
ice, and subsists almost exclusively on flesh, or fish.  Variety,
indeed! no, they are surely different species."

"Undoubtedly," answered Alexis; "but we shall have an opportunity of
comparing them hereafter.  For the present we must drop the subject, and
find out the route of travel which papa has traced out for us."

"But he has not indicated any route--has he?  He gives us permission to
go where we please, so long as we get the bearskins, and do not return
upon our meridian.  We are not to take the _backtrack_--ha! ha! ha!"

"Of course not; but you will find, to avoid doing this, we shall have to
go by a definite course, and can take no other."

"By my word! brother, I don't see what you mean.  I shall trust all to
you: so take me where you please--which way, then?"

"Ah! that has yet to be determined.  I cannot tell myself; and it will
take me some time before I can make quite sure as to what direction we
are to take on starting out--whether east, west, north, or south.  It
will be necessary for me to examine a map of the world, and trace out
the boundaries of the different countries in which King Bruin holds
sovereignty."

"Ah! that will be an interesting lesson for me.  Here is the map; let me
spread it out, and do what I can to assist you in finding our way."

As Ivan said this, he drew a large travelling map of the world from its
case, and opening it out, laid it upon the table.  Both the youths sat
down; and, running their eyes over the chart, proceeded to discuss the
direction which, by the conditions imposed upon them, they must
necessarily take.



CHAPTER FIVE.

TRACING THE ROUTE.

"In the first place," said Alexis, "there is the brown bear (_ursus
arctos_).  Him we might find in many parts of our own country--since he
is emphatically our `Russian bear'; but there is also a black bear,
which some naturalists say is a variety of the _ursus arctos_, while
others believe it to be a separate species, having given to it the
specific name of _ursus niger_--_ursus ator_ it is sometimes called.
Now, whether it be a species or only a variety, we must get a skin of it
all the same--since papa has definitely expressed it so."

"This black bear is to be found in our own northern forests, is it not?"

"Yes; it has been observed there; but more frequently in the mountains
of Scandinavia: and, as we might wander through all the north of Russia
without finding one, our best plan will be to proceed at once to Norway
or Lapland.  There we shall be certain also of finding the brown bear,
and thus kill two birds with one stone."

"Say Lapland: I should like to see the little Laps, but where next?  To
North America, I suppose?"

"By no means.  There is a bear in the Pyrenees, and other mountains of
Spain--in the Asturias especially.  It is also deemed by most
naturalists to be only a variety of the _ursus arctos_, but it is
certainly a distinct species; and papa thinks so.  Some naturalists
would have it that there are only three or four distinct species in the
whole world.  They might just as well say there was but _one_.  I think
it better to follow papa's views upon this subject, and regard all those
bears which have permanent marks of distinction--whether it be in size,
colour, or otherwise--as being so many separate species, however much
they may approximate in habits or disposition.  Why, some naturalists
even call the American black bear merely a variety of our brown; and, as
I said a moment ago, Linnaeus himself believed the Polar to be the same
species.  This is now known to be an erroneous theory.  Since papa has
given as much time to the study of the bears as perhaps any one else, I
shall follow his theory, and regard the Spanish bear (_ursus pyrenaicus_
it is called) a distinct species."

"You propose, then, to go next to Spain, and kill the Spanish bear?"

"We _must_.  Having started in a westerly course by going to Lapland, we
must keep on in that direction."

"But how about the white bear of the Alps?"

"You mean the _ursus albus_ of Lesson?"

"Yes.  To reach the Alps, where it is said to be found, we should have
to recross a meridian of longitude?"

"We should, if there were such an animal to be found in the Alps; but
there is not.  The white bear of Buffon and Lesson (_ursus albus_) was
only a mere accidental variety or _albino_ of the brown bear; and papa
does not mean that we should collect the skins of such as these.  He has
said so.  Indeed, Ivan, were that task imposed on us, we should both be
old men before we could complete it, and return home again.  It is only
the skins of the _permanent_ varieties we are to procure, and therefore
the _ursus albus_ is scratched out of our list."

"Out with him then! where go we next?  To North America, then no doubt?"

"No."

"Perhaps to Africa?"

"No."

"Are there no bears in Africa?"

"That is a disputed point among writers, and has been so since the days
of Pliny.  Bears are mentioned as having been exhibited in the Roman
circus, under the name of _Numidian_ bears; and Herodotus, Virgil,
Juvenal, and Martial all mention _Libyan_ bears in their writings.
Pliny, however, stoutly denies that there were any of these animals in
Africa; but it must be remembered that he equally denies that stags,
goats, and boars existed on the African continent: therefore his
statement about the non-existence of the Numidian bears is not worth a
straw.  Strange enough, the point is as much disputed now as in the days
of Pliny.  The English traveller Bruce, states positively that there are
no bears in Africa.  Another English traveller to Abyssinia, Salt, makes
no mention of them; while the German, Ehrenberg, says that he has seen
them in the mountains of Abyssinia, and heard of them also in Arabia
Felix!  Several French and English travellers (Dapper, Shaw, Poncet, and
Poiret), bear testimony to the existence of bears in different parts of
Africa--in Nubia, Babur, and Congo.  In the Atlas mountains, between
Algiers and Morocco, according to Poiret, bears are common enough; and
this writer even gives some details as to their habits.  He says that
they are exceedingly fierce and carnivorous, and that the Arabs believe
they can lift stones in their paws and fling them at those who may be in
pursuit of them!  He relates that an Arab hunter brought him the skin of
one of those bears; and also showed him a wound in his leg, which he had
received by the animal having launched a stone at him while he was
pursuing it!  Monsieur Poiret, however, does not vouch for the truth of
the stone-throwing, though he stoutly maintains the existence of African
bears."

"What does papa think about it?" inquired Ivan.

"That there are bears in Africa--perhaps in all the mountainous parts of
Africa--but certainly in the Atlas and Tetuan ranges.  Indeed, an
English traveller of veracity has put the question beyond a doubt, by
giving some points in the description of these African bears.
Naturalists thought that if such an animal existed in Africa, it would
be the same species as the Syrian; but although the bears reported in
the Arabian and Abyssinian mountains are likely enough to be of that
species, those of the Atlas are evidently not only distinct from the
Syrian bear, but from all other known kinds.  One that was killed near
Tetuan, about twenty-five miles from the Atlas mountains, was a female,
and less in size than the American black bear.  It was black also, or
rather brownish black, and without any white marking about the muzzle,
but under the belly its fur was of a reddish orange.  The hair was
shaggy and four or five inches long, while the snout, toes, and claws
were all shorter than in the American black bear, and the body was of
thicker and stouter make.  The Englishman had learnt something of its
habits too.  The Arabs said it was rarely met with near Tetuan; that it
fed on roots, acorns, and fruits, but was only an indifferent climber.
Indeed it would be very improbable," continued Alexis, "that the great
ranges of the Atlas and Abyssinian mountains should be without these
mammalia, since they exist in nearly all the other mountains of the
globe.  Moreover, it should be remembered that it is only a few years
since the bears of the Himalayas, of the Great Andes of America, and
those of the East-Indian islands--and even the bear of Mount Lebanon--
became known to the scientific world.  Why, then, should there not be a
species in Africa--perhaps more than one--though civilised people are
yet unacquainted with it?"

"But you say we are not going to Africa?"

"No; our instructions relate only to every variety of bear known to
naturalists; and the African bear does not come under this category--
since it has not yet been described by any naturalist.  For that reason
we shall have no errand into Africa."

"Then, surely North America is our next stage?"

"Certainly not--you are aware that there is a South American bear."

"Yes, the `spectacled bear,' as he is called."

"Just so--the _ursus ornatus_.  I think we shall find two species in
South America, though that is also a disputed point."

"Well, brother, what if we should?"

"Why, both will be found in the Andes of Chili and Peru, and not in the
eastern parts of South America."

"And how should that affect our route of travel?"

"Very essentially indeed.  Were we to go first to North America, we
should find no less than five species, or four species and one
well-marked variety.  To reach the native haunt of one of these--I mean
the grizzly (_ursus ferox_)--we should have to go farther west than any
part of the South American Andes: how, then, could we afterwards reach
the spectacled bear without doubling back on our meridian?"

"True, brother--I see that, by looking on the map.  You propose, then,
steering first to South America, and afterwards to the northern division
of the American continent?"

"We are compelled to do so, by the very nature of our contract.  Having
procured the skins of _ursus ornatus_ and another variety we shall find
in the Andes, we can then travel almost due north.  On the Mississippi
we shall be able to pick up a skin of the American black bear (_ursus
americanus_), and by the help of the Hudson's Bay _voyageurs_ we shall
reach the shores of the great gulf in which that territory takes its
name.  There the `polar bear' (_ursus maritimus_) can be found.  Farther
westward and northward we may hope to capture the `barren ground bear,'
which the English traveller Sir John Richardson thinks is only a variety
of our European brown bear, but which papa--and good reasons he has--
believes to be nothing of the kind.  Crossing the Rocky Mountains, we
shall be able, I hope, to knock over the famed and formidable grizzly
(_ursus ferox_), and in Oregon, or British Columbia, we shall strip his
hide from the `cinnamon bear' (_ursus cinnamonus_), believed to be a
variety of the American black.  That will finish with the bears of
America."

"Asia next, I suppose?"

"Yes, straight across to Kamschatka.  There we shall meet with the
`Siberian,' or `collared bear' (_ursus collaris_).  Of these, two
varieties are said to exist, one of which, specified by the name _ursus
sibiricus_, is also found in Lapland and Siberia."

"Go on, brother!  Where next?"

"From Kamschatka we shall make a long traverse to the south-west.  Our
best hunting-ground will be Borneo."

"Ah! the beautiful little bear with the orange-coloured breast!"

"Yes; that is the `Bornean bear' (_ursus euryspilus_), or `Bruang,' as
he is called by the Malays."

"But there is another Bruang?"

"Yes--the `Malayan sun-bear' (_ursus malagenus_).  This we shall
encounter in Sumatra or Java, whichever we choose to visit."

"Well, the list is much larger than I expected; certainly it has been
wonderfully lengthened since the days of the good old Linnaeus."

"We have not reached the end yet."

"Where next, brother?"

"Up the Bay of Bengal, and on to the Himalayas.  First in the foot-hills
of these mountains we shall have to search for the curious `sloth bear,'
or `juggler's bear' (_ours de jongleurs_) as the French writers term
him.  He is the _ursus labiatus_ of naturalists; and we may find him in
the plains of India, before reaching the Himalayas.  Having skinned him,
we shall proceed to climb the great mountains, and higher up we are
certain to come across the `Thibet bear' (_ursus thibetanus_)--by some
very erroneously described as being one of the numerous varieties of the
European brown bear!  Still higher up we shall, I hope, have the good
luck to encounter and kill a specimen of the `Isabella bear' (_ursus
isabelinus_), so called from his colour, but termed by Anglo-Indian
sportsmen the `snow bear,' because he frequents the declivities near the
snow-line of these stupendous mountains."

"That is all, is it not?"

"_No_, Ivan--one more, and that will be the last."

"What is he?"

"The `Syrian' (_ursus syriacus_); and though the last in our catalogue,
this is the very first on record: for they were bears of this species
that came out of the wood and `tare forty and two' of the mockers of the
prophet Elisha.  We shall have to visit Syria, to procure a skin of the
_ursus syriacus_."

"Well, I hope their ferociousness has been tamed down since Elisha's
time, else we may stand a fair chance of being served in a similar
fashion."

"No doubt we shall have many a scratch before we encounter the bears of
Mount Lebanon.  When we have obtained a robe from one of them, there
will be nothing more for us to do but take the most direct route home.
We shall then have gone _once round the world_."

"Ah, that we shall!" said Ivan, laughing; "and all over it too.  Great
Czar!  I think by the time we have captured one of Elisha's bears, we
shall have had a surfeit of travel."

"No doubt of it; but now, brother, that we know where we are going, let
us waste no more time, but signify our acceptance of the conditions, and
be off at once."

"Agreed," said Ivan; and both returning into the presence of the baron,
announced their readiness to take the road.

"Are we to travel alone, papa?" inquired Ivan; "I think you spoke of an
attendant?"

"Yes, one attendant.  You must not be encumbered with too many servants
to wait upon you.  One will be quite sufficient."

"Who is it to be?" asked Ivan.

The baron rang the bell, and a servant entered.

"Send Corporal Pouchskin to me!"

Shortly after, the door reopened, and a man of about fifty appeared.
The tall well-balanced form and erect attitude--the close-cropped hair
and enormous grizzled moustache--combined with great gravity of
features, denoted a veteran of the Imperial Guard,--one of those grand
and redoubtable soldiers who have seen service in the presence of an
emperor.  Though no longer wearing the military uniform, but dressed
somewhat as a park or game keeper, the silent salute and attitude of
"attention" were sufficiently indicative of the profession which
Pouchskin had followed: for it was the veritable Pouchskin who had
entered the apartment.  He said not a word, nor did he look either to
the right or left,--only directly forward, and at the baron.

"Corporal Pouchskin!"

"General!"

"I wish you to make a journey."

"I am ready."

"Not quite, corporal.  I will give you an hour to prepare."

"Where does the general wish me to go?"

"Round the world."

"Half an hour will suffice."

"So much the better, then.  Prepare to start in half an hour."

Pouchskin bowed and retired.



CHAPTER SIX.

TO THE TORNEA.

We shall not detail the parting interview between the Baron Grodonoff
and his sons; there was the usual interchange of affectionate
expressions, with as much feeling as is common on such occasions.
Neither need we relate the ordinary incidents of travel which befell our
expeditionists, on their way to the mountains of Lapland.  Suffice it to
say that they journeyed by post from Saint Petersburg direct to Tornea,
at the head of the Great Bothnian Gulf.  Thence they proceeded northward
up this river Tornea--till they had reached the mountainous region in
which this stream takes its rise.  They were amply furnished with the
means of travelling in the most expeditious manner, and were not
encumbered with any great amount of luggage.  A bag of roubles, which
Pouchskin carried in a safe pocket, proved the most convenient article
they could have taken along with them; since it enabled them to supply
their wants from day to day, without troubling themselves with any
cumbersome baggage.  There are few parts of the world in which ready
money will not command the necessaries of life; and as this was all our
hunters cared for, they had no difficulty in obtaining supplies--even in
the remote regions of uncivilised Lapland.  The wild, half-savage Lap
perfectly comprehends the value of a coin; and will exchange for it his
reindeer flesh and milk, or anything else that may be asked from him.
Our young hunters therefore travelled lightly--with little else in the
shape of baggage than a pair of knapsacks which they carried on their
backs, and which contained only a change or two of linen, and such
toilet articles as were absolutely necessary to their comfort.  A
knapsack of much larger dimensions formed the chief care of Pouchskin;
and although this, with its contents, would have been a heavy load for
an ordinary man, the veteran of the Imperial Guard thought no more of it
than if it had been a bag of feathers.  Each in addition carried an
ample fur cloak; which, on the march, was folded up and strapped to
their backs on top of the knapsack, but at night was wrapped around
their bodies, and served both as bed and bedclothes.  All three were
armed and equipped, in the most substantial manner.  They carried guns,
though differing in kind.  The piece of Alexis was a handsome Jager
rifle; Ivan's was a double-barrelled shot-gun or fowling-piece; while
Pouchskin balanced over his shoulder an immense fusil, the bullet of
which weighed a good ounce avoirdupois.  All were provided with a knife
of one fashion or another.

In such guise did our young hunters enter the mountains of Lapland; and
commence their search after the "old man in the fur coat," as the
Laplanders term the bear.

They had taken proper measures to secure success.  They had secured the
services of a guide, who engaged to conduct them to a district where
bears existed in great plenty, and where he himself lived in a state
almost as savage as the bears--for he was a true Laplander and lived in
a tent in the very heart of the mountains.  He was one of those who had
no reindeer; and was therefore forced to depend on the chase for his
subsistence.  He trapped the ermine and beaver--killed the wild reindeer
when he could--spent his whole life in battling with wolves and bears;
and with the skins of these animals--which he sold to the fur-traders--
he was able to supply himself with the few necessaries which such a
state of existence called for.

Under his tent of coarse _wadmal_ cloth the travellers found shelter,
and such rude hospitality as the poor Lap could afford them--in return
for which they had to live in the midst of a smoke that nearly put out
their eyes.  But they knew they had entered upon an expedition, in which
many hardships were to be expected; and they bore the inconvenience with
becoming fortitude.

It is not my intention to give the details of the everyday life of the
young hunters, nor yet an account of the very many curious incidents,
which occurred to them during their sojourn in Lapland.  Much was noted
down in their journal--from which this narrative has been drawn--
interesting only to themselves, or perhaps still more to their father
the baron.  For him they wrote an account of everything peculiar that
they observed--such as the odd customs of the Laplanders--their mode of
travelling in sledges with reindeer--their snow-skating on the _skidors_
and _skabargers_--and, in short, a full account of the habits and
manners of these singular people.  Especially, however, did Alexis
describe the objects of natural history which came under his notice--
giving such details as he drew from personal observation, or derived
from the native hunters, many of whom they encountered while engaged in
the chase of the bear.

These details, were they given in full, would fill a book of themselves.
We must content ourselves, therefore, with relating only the more
interesting incidents, and striking adventures which happened to our
heroes.

We may here state that it was in the early part of spring that they
arrived in Lapland, or rather in the latter part of winter, when the
ground is still covered with deep snow.  At this season the bears are
hidden away in their caves--in crevices of the rocks or hollow trees--
from which they only issue forth when the spring sun makes itself felt,
and the snow begins to disappear from the sides of the hills.

Every one has heard of this _winter sleep_ of the bears; and it has been
attributed to bears of all species.  This, however, is a mistake, as it
is only indulged in by a few kinds; and the climate and nature of the
country which the bear inhabits has more to do with his _hybernation_
than any natural instinct of the animal: since it has been observed that
bears will go to sleep, or _hybernate_, as it is termed, in one part of
a country, while individuals of the same species, in another region,
will be found roaming about all the winter through.  The state of torpor
seems to be voluntary with these animals: since it is generally in
districts where food could not be procured, that they submit themselves
to this prolonged _siesta_.

However this may be, the brown bears of Lapland certainly indulge in a
period of slumber--during which they are difficult to find.  Never
issuing from their places of concealment, they make no track in the snow
by which they might be followed.  At such seasons it is only by
accident, or by the aid of his dog, that the Lap hunter chances to
discover the retreat of a bear; and, when one is thus discovered,
various methods are adopted for securing the valuable skin and carcass
of the animal.

It so chanced that, previous to the arrival of the young Russians upon
their hunting-ground, there had been a show of spring--that is, a few
days of warm sun--but this had been succeeded by a return of the cold
weather, with a fresh fall of snow.  The spell of warmth, however, had
aroused many bears from their lethargy--some of which had ventured out
of their caves, and made short excursions among the hills--in search, no
doubt, of the berries, that, preserved all winter by the snow, are sweet
and mellow at this season, and a favourite food of the bears.

This casual occurrence of the spring having made a promise and not kept
it, was just the chance for our hunters; since it enabled them in a
_very_ short time to track a bear to his den.

A few days after their arrival upon the hunting-ground, they were able
to do this--having come upon the footmarks of a bear, that, followed for
a mile or so through the snow, led them to the animal's lair.  It led
them also to an adventure, which was the first they had yet encountered;
and which came very near being the last that Pouchskin was ever to have
in the world.  Pouchskin was certainly in great peril; and how he
escaped from it will be learnt, by reading an account of the adventure.



CHAPTER SEVEN.

JACK-IN-THE-BOX.

It was early in the morning, shortly after leaving the tent of the
Laplander, they had chanced upon the track of the bear.

After following it for nearly a mile, it conducted them to a narrow
gorge or ravine, lying between two rocky ridges.  The ravine itself was
not more than ten or a dozen yards in width, and its bottom was filled
with snow to the depth of several feet.  Along the sides the snow lay
sparsely; and in fact there had been scarce any in that place before the
fall the preceding night.  This had only covered the ground to the depth
of a few inches: but it was sufficient to show the footmarks of the
bear; and they were able to follow the _spar_--so the Scandinavian
hunters call the tracks of an animal--as fast as they chose to go.

Following it up, then, our hunters entered the ravine.  They kept for
some distance along one side--just by the edge of the deep snow; but at
length, the track indicated where the bear had crossed to the other
side; and of course they were compelled to cross likewise.

This deep snow was the accumulated deposits of different storms that had
occurred during the winter; and, shadowed from the sun by the long
branches of evergreen pines from both sides stretching outward over the
ravine, it had remained without melting.  There was a crust over it--
strong enough to carry a man on _skidors_, but not without them, unless
he proceeded with care and caution.  The bear had gone over it; but
these animals, notwithstanding their enormous weight and bulk, can pass
over ice or crusted snow that will not carry a man.  Their weight rests
upon four points instead of two; and as they need only lift one foot at
a time, they still have three points of support.  A man must also lift
one foot, which leaves him only one to stand upon; and therefore his
whole weight presses upon a single point, and so endangers his breaking
through.  The great length of a bear's body, moreover, and the vast
stretch between his fore and hind legs give him an additional
advantage--enabling him to distribute his weight over a large surface--
and this is why he can shuffle over ice or snow-crust, that may be too
weak to carry a human being.  Every boy knows--at least every boy who
has skated or ventured upon a frozen pond--that by creeping on hands and
knees, or, more certain still, by sprawling along on the breast, ice may
be passed over, that would not bear the same boy in an erect attitude.

Such advantage, then, had the bear which our young hunters were tracking
up; and it would have been well for them--at least for Pouchskin--had
they thought of it.  They did not.  They supposed that where a great
heavy animal like a bear had gone they might go too; and, without
further reflection, they stepped out upon the deep bed of snow.

Alexis and Ivan being light weights passed over the snow safely enough;
but Pouchskin, weighing nearly as much as both of them--and further
loaded with a ponderous wood-axe and his huge gun, to say nothing of
sundry well-filled pockets and pouches--was more than the crust would
carry.  Just when he had got about halfway across, there was heard a
tearing crash; and before the boys could turn to inquire the cause,
Pouchskin had disappeared, and all his _paraphernalia_ along with him!

No, not quite all.  There was seen about two feet of the barrel of his
gun above the surface; and as that still pointed upward--while it moved
around the circular hole through which the old guardsman had fallen--the
boys concluded that the piece was in his hands, and that Pouchskin was
still upon his feet.

At the same instant a voice reached their ears--in a hollow sepulchral
tone, like that of a man speaking from the bottom of a well, or through
the bung-hole of an empty cask!

Notwithstanding its _baritone_ notes, the boys perceived that the
exclamations made by the voice were not those of terror, but rather of
surprise, followed by a slight laugh.  Of course, therefore, their
attendant had received no injury, nor was he in any danger; and, assured
of this, Ivan first, and then Alexis, broke out into yells of laughter.

On cautiously approaching the trap-like hole, through which Pouchskin
had disappeared, their merriment burst forth afresh, at the ludicrous
spectacle.  There stood the old guardsman, like a jack-in-the-box in the
centre of a hollow funnel-shaped cylinder which he had made in the snow.
But what was strangest of all, there was no snow among his feet: on the
contrary, he was up to his knees in water, and not stagnant water
either, but a current, that ran rapidly underneath the snow, and had
swished the crusted fragments from the spot where he was standing!

A stream, in fact, ran down the ravine; and, although the snow
completely hid it from view, there it was, rushing along underneath
through a tunnel which it had melted out for itself--the snow forming a
continuous bridge above it.

The boys did not know all this--for they could only just see the top of
Pouchskin's head, with his long arms holding the gun--but they could
hear the rushing noise of the water, and Pouchskin reported the rest.

It did not appear so easy to extricate him from his unpleasant
predicament; for the resemblance between his situation, and that of
jack-in-the-box, went no further.  There was no jerking machinery by
which the ex-guardsman could be jumped out of his box; and, since his
head was full three feet below the crust of the snow, how he was to be
raised to the surface required some consideration.

Neither of the young hunters dared to approach the circumference of the
circular hole through which Pouchskin had sunk.  They might have broken
through themselves, and then all three would have been in the same fix.
Of course, under this apprehension, they dared not go near enough to
pull him out with their hands--even had they been able to reach down to
him.

It is true he might have got out, after some time, by breaking the snow
before him, and working his way at right angles to the course of the
stream: for it was evident that the ground sloped sharply up in that
direction, and the snow became shallower.  Except above the water, it
was firm enough to have borne his weight, and after a time he might have
scrambled out; but a more expeditious plan of relieving him, and one far
less troublesome to Pouchskin, suggested itself to Alexis.

One of the _impedimenta_, which the old guardsman carried on his
shoulders, was a coil of stout cord--almost a rope.  This they had
brought with them, in the anticipation of being successful in their
hunt; and, with the idea of its being required at the skinning of the
bear--as also for packing the hide, or any similar purpose.

It was the presence of this cord that suggested to Alexis the scheme he
had conceived, for relieving his faithful follower from his unhappy
position; and the plan itself will be understood by our describing its
execution, which took place on the instant.

Alexis called to Pouchskin to tie one end of the rope round his body,
and then fling the other out upon the snow--as far as he could cast it.
This request was instantly complied with; and the end of the rope made
its appearance at the feet of Alexis.

The latter taking it in his hand, ran up the bank to the nearest tree;
and, giving it a turn or two round the trunk, he handed it to Ivan, with
the direction to hold it fast and keep it from slipping.  A knot would
have served the same purpose; but the whole thing was the work of only a
few moments; and as Ivan was standing by doing nothing, his brother
thought he might just as well take hold of the rope and save time.

Alexis now crept back, as near to the edge of the trap as it was safe to
go.  He took with him a long pole, which by a lucky chance, he had found
lying under the trees.  Slipping this under the rope, and placing it
crosswise, he shoved it still nearer to the circumference of the broken
circle--his object being to give support to the cord, and keep it from
cutting into the snow.

The contrivance was perfectly correct; and as soon as Alexis had got all
ready, he shouted to Pouchskin to haul upon the rope, and help himself.

Meanwhile, the old guardsman had slung his fusil upon his back; and,
immediately on receiving the signal, commenced his ascent--pulling hand
over hand upon the rope, and assisting his arms by working his feet
against the wall of snow.

The moment his head appeared above the surface, the laughter of his
young masters, that had been for a while suspended, burst forth afresh.
And it was no wonder: for the expression upon the old soldier's visage,
as it rose above the white crust, his bent attitude, and the desperate
exertions he was making to clamber upward, all combined to form a most
ludicrous picture.

Ivan screamed till the tears ran down his cheeks.  So overcome was he
with mirth, that it is possible he would have let go, and permitted
Pouchskin to tumble back into his trap; but the more sober Alexis,
foreseeing such a contingency, ran up and took hold of the rope.

By this means, Pouchskin was at length landed safely on the surface of
the snow; but even his tall boots of Russia leather had not saved his
legs and feet from getting well soaked; and he was now dripping with
muddy water from the thighs downwards.

There was no time, however, to kindle a fire and dry him.  They did not
think of such a thing.  So eager were all three in the chase of the
bear, that they only waited to coil up the cord, and then continued
onward.



CHAPTER EIGHT.

THE SCANDINAVIAN BEARS.

"Really, now," said Ivan, pointing to one of the tracks, "if it wasn't
that I see the marks of claws instead of toes, I should fancy we were
tracking a man instead of a bear--some barefooted Laplander, for
instance.  How very like these tracks are to those of a human foot!"

"That is quite true," rejoined Alexis; "there is a very remarkable
resemblance between the footprints of the bear and those of a human
being--especially when the trades have stood a while.  As it is, now,
you can see clearly the marks of the claws; but in a day or two, when
the sun or the rain has fallen upon the snow, and melted it a little,
the claw marks will then be filled up with the thaw, and, losing their
sharp outlines, will look much more like the tracks of toes.  For that
reason, an old bear-track is, indeed, as you say, very like that of a
human foot."

"And quite as large too?"

"Quite as large: the tracks of some kinds even larger than those of most
men.  As, for instance, the white and grizzly species--many individuals
of both having paws over twelve inches in length!"

"The bear does not tread upon his toes in walking, but lays the whole
sole of his foot along the ground--does he not?" asked Ivan.

"Precisely so," replied Alexis; "and hence he is termed a _plantigrade_
animal, to distinguish him from those other kinds, as horses, oxen,
swine, dogs, cats, and so forth, that all, in reality, step upon their
toes."

"There are some other plantigrade animals besides bears?" said Ivan,
interrogatively; "our badger and glutton, for instance?"

"Yes," answered the naturalist.  "These are plantigrade; and for this
reason they have been classed along with the bears under the general
name _ursidae_; but in father's opinion, and mine too," added Alexis,
with a slight sparkle of scientific conceit, "this classification is
altogether an erroneous one, and rests upon the very insignificant
support of the plantigrade feet.  In all other respects the different
genera of small animals, that have thus been introduced into the family
of the bears are, as unlike the latter almost bears as are to blue
bottles."

"What animals have been included in this family _ursidae_?"

"The European glutton and American wolverine (_gulo_), the badgers of
both continents, and of Asia (_meles_), the raccoon (_procyon_), the
Cape ratel (_mellivora_), the panda (_ailurus_), the benturong
(_ictides_), the coati (_nasua_), the paradoxure (_paradoxurus_), and
even the curious little teledu of Java (_mydaus_).  It was Linnaeus
himself who first entered these animals under the heading of _bears_--at
least, such of them as were known in his day; and the French anatomist,
Cuvier, extended this incongruous list to the others.  To distinguish
them from the true bears, they divided the family into two branches--the
_ursinae_, or bears properly so called, and the _subursinae_, or little
bears.  Now, in my opinion," continued Alexis, "there is not the
slightest necessity for calling these numerous species of animals even
`_little bears_.'  They are not bears in any sense of the word: having
scarce any other resemblance to the noble Bruin than their plantigrade
feet.  All these animals--the Javanese teledu excepted--have long tails;
some of them, in fact, being very long and very bushy--a characteristic
altogether wanting to the bears, that can hardly be said to have tails
at all.  But there are other peculiarities that still more widely
separate the bears from the so called `little bears;' and indeed so many
essential points of difference, that the fact of their being classed
together might easily be shown to be little better than mere anatomical
nonsense.  It is an outrage upon common sense," continued Alexis,
warming with his subject, "to regard a raccoon as a bear,--an animal
that is ten times more like a fox, and certainly far nearer to the genus
_canis_ than that of _ursus_.  On the other hand, it is equally absurd
to break up the true bears into different _genera_--as these same
anatomists have done; for if there be a family in the world the
individual members of which bear a close family likeness to one another,
that is the family of Master Bruin.  Indeed, so like are the different
species, that other learned anatomists have gone to the opposite extreme
of absurdity, and asserted that they are all one and the same!  However,
we shall see as we become acquainted with the different members of this
distinguished family, in what respects they differ from each other, and
in what they are alike."

"I have heard," said Ivan, "that here, in Norway and Lapland, there are
two distinct species of the brown bear, besides the black variety, which
is so rare; and I have also heard say that the hunters sometimes capture
a variety of a greyish colour, which they call the `silver bear.'  I
think papa mentioned these facts."

"Just so," replied Alexis; "it has been the belief among Swedish
naturalists that there are two species, or at least permanent varieties,
of the brown bear in Northern Europe.  They have even gone so far as to
give them separate specific names.  One is the _ursus arctos major_,
while the other is _ursas arctos minor_.  The former is the larger
animal--more fierce in its nature, and more carnivorous in its food.
The other, or smaller kind, is of a gentler disposition--or at all
events more timid--and instead of preying upon oxen and other domestic
animals, confines itself to eating grubs, ants, roots, berries, and
vegetable substances.  In their colour there is no perceptible
difference between the two supposed varieties--more than may be often
found between two individuals notedly of the same kind; and it is only
in size and habits that a distinction has been observed.  The latest and
most accurate writers upon this subject believe that the great and
little brown bears are not even varieties; and that the distinctive
characteristics are merely the effects of age, sex, or other accidental
circumstances.  It is but natural to suppose that the younger bears
would not be so carnivorous as those of greater age.  It is well-known
that preying upon other animals and feeding upon their flesh, is not a
natural instinct of the brown bear; it is a habit that has its origin,
first in the scarcity of other food, but which, once entered upon, soon
develops itself into a strong propensity--almost equalling that of the
_felidae_.

"As to the black bear being a distinct species, that is a question also
much debated among both hunters and naturalists.  The hunters say that
the fur of the black European bear is never of that jetty blackness
which characterises the real black bears of American and Asiatic
countries, but only a very dark shade of brown; and they believe that it
is nothing more than the brown fur itself, grown darker in old age.
Certainly they have reason for this belief: since it is a well-known
fact that the brown bears do become darker as they grow older."

"Ha!" said Ivan, with a laugh, "that is just the reverse with us.  Look
at Pouchskin there!  Your hair was once black, wasn't it, old Pouchy?"

"Yes, Master Ivan, black as a crow's feathers."

"And now you're as grey as a badger.  Some day, before long--before we
get home again may be--your moustache, old fellow, will be as white as
an ermine."

"Very like, master, very like--we'll all be a bit older by that time."

"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed Ivan; "you're right there, Pouchy; but go on,
brother!" he added, turning to Alexis, "let us hear all about these
Scandinavian bears.  You have not spoken yet of the `silver' ones."

"No," said Alexis; "nor of another kind that is found in these
countries, and that some naturalists have elevated into a different
species--the `ringed bear.'"

"You mean the bears with a white ring round their necks?  Yes, I have
heard of them too."

"Just so," rejoined Alexis.

"Well, brother, what do _you_ think? is it a distinct species, or a
permanent variety?"

"Neither one nor the other.  It is merely an accidental marking which
some young individuals of the brown bear chance to have, and it scarcely
ever remains beyond the age of _cubhood_.  It is only very young bears
that are met with of this colour; and the white ring disappears as they
get older.  It is true that hunters now and then meet with an odd ringed
bear of tolerable size and age; but all agree that he is the brown bear,
and not a distinct kind.  The same remarks apply to the `silver' bear;
and hunters say that in a litter of three cubs they have found all three
colours--the common brown, the `ringed,' and the `silver,'--while the
old mother herself was a true _ursus arctos_."

"Well, since papa only binds us to the brown and black, it will be a
nice thing if we could fall in with a skin of the ringed and silver
varieties.  It would please him all the better.  I wonder now what sort
is this fellow we are following?  By the size of his tracks he must be a
wopper!"

"No doubt an old male," rejoined Alexis; "but if I am not mistaken, we
shall soon be able to determine that point.  The _spar_ gets fresher and
fresher.  He must have passed here but a very short while ago; and I
should not wonder if we were to find him in this very ravine."

"See!" exclaimed Ivan, whose eyes had been lifted from the trail, and
bent impatiently forward;--"see! by the great Peter! yonder's a hole,
under the root of that tree.  Why might it not be his cave?"

"It looks like enough.  Hush! let us keep to the trail, and go up to it
with caution--not a word!"

All three, now scarce breathing--lest the sound should be heard--stole
silently along the trail.  The fresh-fallen snow, still soft as
eider-down, enabled them to proceed without making the slightest noise;
and without making any, they crept up, till within half-a-dozen paces of
the tree.

Ivan's conjecture was likely to prove correct.  There was a line of
tracks leading up the bank; and around the orifice of the cavity the
snow was considerably trampled down--as if the bear had turned himself
two or three times before entering.  That he had entered, the hunters
did not entertain a doubt: there were no return tracks visible in the
snow--only the single line that led up to the mouth of the cave, and
this seemed to prove conclusively that Bruin was "at home."



CHAPTER NINE.

HYBERNATION OF BEARS.

As already stated, it is the custom of the brown bear, as well as of
several other species, to go to sleep for a period of several months
every winter,--in other words, to _hybernate_.  When about to take this
long nap, the bear seeks for himself a cave or den, in which he makes
his bed with such soft substances as may be most convenient--dry leaves,
grass, moss, or rushes.  He collects no great store of these however--
his thick matted fur serving him alike for bed and coverlet; and very
often he makes no further ado about the matter than to creep into the
hole he has chosen, lie down, snugly couch his head among the thickets
of long hair that cover his hams, and thus go to sleep.

Some naturalists have asserted that this sleep is a state of torpidity--
from which the animal is incapable of awaking himself or of being
awakened, until the regular period of indulgence in it may have passed.
This, however, is not the case; for bears are often surprised in their
sleep, and when aroused by the hunters act just as is usual with them at
other times.

It must be observed, however, that the retirement of the bear into
winter quarters is not to be regarded as of the same nature as the
hybernation of marmots, squirrels, and other species of rodent animals.
These creatures merely shut themselves up from the cold; and to meet the
exigencies of their voluntary imprisonment, they have already collected
in their cells a large store of their usual food.  Bees and many other
insects do precisely same thing.  Not so with the bear.  Whether it be
that he is not gifted with an instinct of providence it is difficult to
say; but certain it is, that he lays up no store for these long dark
days, but goes to sleep without thought of the morrow.

How he is maintained for several months without eating is one of
nature's mysteries.  Every one has heard the absurd theory: that he does
so by "sucking his paws," and the ingenious Buffon has not only given
credence to this story, but endeavours to support it, by stating that
the paws when cut open yield a substance of a milky nature!

It is a curious fact that this story is to be found scattered all over
the world--wherever bears hybernate.  The people of Kamschatka have it;
so also the Indians, and Esquimaux of the Hudson's Bay territory, and
the Norwegian and Lap hunters of Europe.  Whence did these
widely-distributed races of men derive this common idea of a habit
which, if the story be a true one, must be common to bears of very
different species?

This question can be answered.  In northern Europe the idea first
originated--among the hunters of Scandinavia.  But the odd story once
told was too good to be lost; and every traveller, since the first
teller of it, has taken care to embellish his narrative about bears with
this selfsame conceit; so that, like the tale of the Amazon women in
South America, the natives have learnt it from the travellers, and not
the travellers from the natives!

How absurd to suppose that a huge quadruped, whose daily food would be
several pounds weight of animal or vegetable matter--a bear who can
devour the carcass of a calf at a single meal--could possibly subsist
for two months on the _paw-milk_ which Monsieur Buffon has described!

How then can we account for his keeping alive?  There need be no
difficulty in doing so.  It is quite possible that during this long
sleep the digestive power or process is suspended, or only carried on at
a rate infinitesimally small; that, moreover, life is sustained and the
blood kept in action by means of the large amount of fat which the bear
has collected previous to his _going to bed_.  It is certain that, just
at their annual _bed time_, bears are fatter than at any other season of
the year.  The ripening of the forest fruits, and the falling of various
seeds of mast-worts, upon which, during the autumn, bears principally
subsist, then supply them with abundance, and nothing hinders them to
get fat and go to sleep upon it.  They would have no object in keeping
awake: were they to do so, in those countries where they practise
hybernation, they would certainly starve, for, the ground being then
frozen hard, they could not dig for roots, and under the deep covering
of snow they might search in vain for their masts and berries.  As to
foraging on birds or other quadrupeds, bears are not fitted for that.
They are not agile enough for such a purpose.

They will eat both when they can catch them; but they cannot always
catch them; and if they had no other resource in the snowy season the
bears would certainly starve.  To provide them against this time of
scarcity, nature has furnished them with the singular power of
somnolence.  Indeed, that this is the purpose is easily proved.  It is
proved by the simple fact that those bears belonging to warm latitudes,
as the Bornean, Malayan, and even the black American of the Southern
States, do not hybernate at all.  There is no need for them to do so.
Their unfrozen forests furnish them with food all the year round; and
all the year round are they seen roaming about in search of it.  Even in
the Arctic lands the polar bear keeps afoot all the year; his diet not
being vegetable, and therefore not snowed up in winter.  The female of
this species hides herself away; but that is done for another purpose,
and not merely to save herself from starvation.

That the stock of fat, which the bear lays in before going to sleep, has
something to do with subsisting him, is very evident from the fact that
it is all gone by the time he awakes.  Then or shortly afterwards,
master Bruin finds himself as thin as a rail; and were he to look in a
glass just then, he would scarce recognise himself, so very different is
his long emaciated carcass from that huge plump round body, that two
months before he could scarce squeeze through the entrance to his cave!

Another great change comes over him during his prolonged sleep.  On
going to bed, he is not only very fat, but also very lazy; so much so
that the merest tyro of a hunter can then circumvent and slay him.
Naturally a well-disposed animal--we are speaking only of the brown bear
(_ursus arctos_) though the remark will hold good of several other
species--he is at this period more than usually civil and soft-tempered.
He has found a sufficiency of vegetable food which is more congenial to
his taste than animal substances; and he will not molest living creature
just then, if living creature will only let him alone.  Aroused from his
sleep, however, he shows a different disposition.  He appears as if he
had got up "wrong side foremost."  His head aches, his belly hungers,
and he is disposed to believe that some one has stolen upon him while
asleep, and robbed him of his suet.  Under this impression he issues
from his dark chamber in very ill humour indeed.  This disposition
clings to him for a length of time; and if at this period, during his
morning rambles, he should encounter any one who does not get speedily
out of his way, the party thus meeting him will find him a very awkward
customer.  It is then that he makes havoc among the flocks and herds of
the Scandinavian shepherd--for he actually does commit such ravages--and
even the hunter who meets him at this season will do well to "ware
bear."

And so does the hunter; and so did Alexis, and Ivan, and Pouchskin.  All
three of them were well enough acquainted with the habits of the bear--
their own Russian bear--to know that they should act with caution in
approaching him.

And in this wise they acted; for instead of rushing up to the mouth of
the hole, and making a great riot, they stole forward in perfect
silence, each holding his gun cocked, and ready to give Bruin a salute,
the moment he should show his snout beyond the portals of his den.

Had they not tracked him to his cave, they would have acted quite
differently.  Had they found a bear's den--within which they knew that
the animal was indulging in his winter sleep--they would not have cared
so much how they approached it.  Then he would have required a good deal
of stirring up to induce him to show himself, so that they could get a
shot at him; but the track told them that this one had been up and
abroad--perhaps for several days--and as the new snow, in all
likelihood, had hindered him from picking up much to eat, he would be as
"savage as a meat axe."

Expecting him to spring out almost on the instant, the three took stand
at some distance from the mouth of the cave; and, with arms in
readiness, awaited his coming forth.



CHAPTER TEN.

BRUIN AT HOME?

The entrance to the cave, if cave it was, was an aperture of no great
dimensions--about large enough to admit the body of a full-grown bear,
and no bigger.  It appeared to be a hole or burrow, rather than a cave,
and ran under a great pine-tree, among whose roots, no doubt, was the
den of the bear.  The tree itself grew up out of the sloping bank; and
its great rhizomes stretched over a large space, many of them appearing
above the surface soil.  In front of the aperture was a little ledge,
where the snow was hacked by the bear's paws, but below this ledge the
bank trended steeply down--its slope terminating in the bed of deeper
snow already described.

As stated, the three hunters had taken their stand, but not all
together.  Directly in front of the cave was Pouchskin, and below it, of
course, on account of the sloping bank.  He was some six paces from the
aperture.  On the right side Ivan had been placed, while Alexis had
passed on, and now stood upon the left.  The three formed a sort of
isosceles triangle, of which Pouchskin was the apex, and the line of the
bank the base.  A perpendicular dropped from the muzzle of Pouchskin's
gun would have entered the aperture of the cave.  Of course Pouchskin's
was the post of danger; but that was to be expected.

They stood a good while in silence.  No signs of Bruin--neither by sight
nor hearing.

It was then resolved that some stir should be made--a noise of any kind,
that might bring the beast forth.  They coughed and talked loudly, but
all to no purpose.  They shouted at length with like fruitless result--
Bruin would not stir!

That he was inside none of them doubted.  How could they?  The tracks
going to the cave, and none coming from it, set that question at rest.
Certainly he was in his den? but whether asleep or not, it was evident
he took no heed of their shouting.

Some other means must be adopted to get him out.  He must be stirred up
with a pole!  This was the plan that suggested itself, and the one
determined upon.

Pouchskin started off to procure a pole.  The others kept guard--still
holding their guns in readiness, lest the bear might make a rush in
Pouchskin's absence.  But Bruin had no such intention; nor was his
presence betrayed by sight or sound, until Pouchskin came back.  He had
cut a pole with his axe, and had taken the precaution to select a long
one.  A young sapling it was, that when cleared of its branches appeared
as long as a hop-pole.  Pouchskin knew the advantage of its length.  He
had no particular wish to come to close quarters with the bear.

Creeping back pretty nearly into his old place, he inserted the end of
the sapling into the aperture--then rattled it against the sides, and
waited a bit.  No response from Bruin!  Once more the pole was pushed
in, this time a little further, and again accompanied with similar noisy
demonstrations.  Bruin neither moves nor makes sound!

"He must be asleep!  Try a little further, Pouchskin!"

This suggestion came from the impatient Ivan.

Encouraged by the words of his young master, Pouchskin approached,
nearer to the aperture, and buried half of the pole inside.  He then
turned the stick and poked it all about, but could touch nothing that
felt like a bear.  Growing more confident, he crept yet nearer, and
pushed the pole up till he could touch the bottom of the cave--once more
feeling with its point in all directions, against the further end, along
the sides, upwards and downwards, and everywhere.  Still he touched
nothing soft--nothing that felt as the shaggy hide of a bear should do--
nothing, in fact, but hard rocks, against which the stick could be heard
rattling wherever he pushed it!

This was very mysterious.  Pouchskin was an old bear-hunter.  He had
poked his pole into many a burrow of Bruin, and he knew well enough when
he had touched bottom.  He could tell moreover that the cave he was now
exploring was all in one piece--a single-roomed house.  Had there been
any second or inner chamber he would have found the aperture that led to
it; but there appeared to be none.

To make sure of this, he now approached quite near to the entrance, and
continued to guage the cavity with his stick.  Alexis and Ivan also drew
near--one on each side of him--and the exploration continued.

In a short while, however, Pouchskin became nearly satisfied that _there
was no bear in the den_!  He had groped with his stick all round and
round it, and had come in contact with nothing softer than a rock or a
root of the tree.  As a last _resource_ he lay down on the ground to
listen--placing his ear close to the mouth of the cave; and, cautioning
his young masters to keep silent, in this position he remained for some
seconds of time.

Perhaps it was fortunate for them, if not for him, that they attended to
his caution.  Their silence enabled them to hear what Pouchskin could
not--placed as he now was--and that was a sound that caused the young
bear-hunters to start back and look upwards, instead of into the cave.

As they did so, a sight met their eyes that drew from both a
simultaneous cry, while both at the same instant retreated several paces
from the spot, elevating their guns as they went backward.

Slowly moving down the trunk of the great pine-tree appeared an animal
of enormous size.  Had they not been expecting something of the kind
neither could have told that this moving object was an animal: since at
first sight neither a head nor limbs could be distinguished--only an
immense shapeless mass of brown shaggy hair.

The instant after a huge hairy limb was protruded below, and then
another both terminating in broad ungulated paws, that in succession
griped the rough bark of the tree, causing it to rattle and scale off.

Singular as its shape was there was no mistaking the animal that was
making this retrograde movement.  It was Bruin himself, descending the
tree buttocks downward!



CHAPTER ELEVEN.

HAND TO HAND.

Alexis and Ivan, as they started back, simultaneously screamed out a
shout of warning to Pouchskin.  Both, almost at the same instant, raised
their guns, and fired into the buttocks of the bear.

Pouchskin had heard their cries, but not the preliminary "sniff" which
the animal had uttered: he had been too eager in _listening inside of
the cave_, to hear aught that was passing without.  He heard their
warning cry however, and the reports of their guns; but not in time to
get out of the way.  Just as the shots were fired, he had half risen
from his recumbent attitude; but the bear at that moment dropped down
from the tree, and coming "_co-thump_" on the back of the old guardsman,
once more flattened him out upon his face!

Perhaps it would have been as well for Pouchskin, if he had quietly
remained in that attitude: for the bear had already turned from him, and
showed signs of an intention to retreat; but Pouchskin, deeming that he
was in the worst position he could well be in, scrambled suddenly to his
feet, and made a "grab" at his gun.

This show of fight on the part of his antagonist--and the belief,
perhaps, that it was Pouchskin that had so rudely tickled his
posteriors--roused the fury of the bear; and instead of exposing his
hind quarters to a second assault, he charged mouth open upon the
ex-guardsman.  By this time, the latter had recovered his gun, and
promptly brought the piece to his shoulder; but, alas! the gun snapped!
The lock had been wetted in the snow-trap.  It was a flint lock, and the
priming had got damped.

The failure only increased the fury of the animal; and a charge of
swan-shot, which Ivan at the same instant fired from his second barrel,
still further irritated him.

Pouchskin drew his long-bladed knife.  It was the only weapon he could
lay his hand upon, for the axe, which might have served him better, had
been left above on the bank, where he had lopped the sapling.

He drew his knife, therefore, and prepared to defend himself in a _hand
to paw_ struggle.

He might still have retreated, though not with a certainty of safety--
for in the hurry of the moment the bear had got on the bank above him:
and had he turned his back, the fierce quadruped might have overtaken,
and knocked him down at his will.  Pouchskin thought it better to face
the bear, and receive his onslaught at arm's length.

There was but one way in which he could have retreated, and that was
backward down the slope.  He might make ground in that direction; and it
occurred to him to do so, in order to get footing on a more level
surface.

The bear having paused a moment to bite the place where the rifle bullet
had stung him, gave Pouchskin time to gain some ground backwards; but
only a few paces--since the whole affair did not occupy a tenth of the
time taken in describing it.

Just as Pouchskin had reached the bottom of the slope, his angry
assailant, with a terrific growl, rushed forth from the smoke, and
galloped directly towards him.  When about three feet distant from the
hunter, Bruin reared upon his hind legs, in the attitude of a
prize-fighter!

Pouchskin was seen to lunge forward with his right arm--the one which
carried his knife; and, the moment after, both man and beast appeared
closed together, "in grips."

In this fashion they went waltzing over the snow, the spray of which
rose in a cloud around them; and for a while they were seen only as one
dark upright form, in confused and violent motion!

Ivan was uttering cries of fear--fear for the safety of his dearly-loved
Pouchskin; while Alexis, more cool, was rapidly reloading his rifle,--
knowing that the surest means of saving the life of their faithful
attendant, was to encompass the death of the bear.

It was a moment of real peril for Pouchskin.  The bear was one of the
largest and fiercest he had ever encountered; and, perhaps, had he
examined the brute more minutely before the conflict commenced, he would
have thought twice before facing him.  But the smoke from the guns was
still over and around the spot, hanging upon the damp air.  Up to the
time when Pouchskin resolved to make stand, he had not yet had a clear
view of his shaggy antagonist.  When at length he perceived the
formidable proportions of the animal, it was too late to retreat; and
the struggle began as described.

In brief time Alexis--who at loading was quick as a tirailleur--had
recharged his piece, and was now hastening up to the rescue.

Without going quite close he dared not fire: for in the way that man and
bear were dancing about, there would be as much danger of killing the
one as the other.

All at once, however, they appeared to separate.  Pouchskin had torn
himself out of the bear's clutches, and, evidently disinclined to a
renewal of the embrace, was retreating backward, over the snow, still
hotly pursued by the animal.

At this moment Alexis would have fired; but, unfortunately, the
direction in which Pouchskin was going, kept his body nearly in a line
with that of the animal; and Alexis could not fire without danger of
hitting him.

The chase led across the ravine, and of course over the bed of snow.
The pursued was doing his best to escape.  But the pursuer had the
advantage--for while the man was breaking through at every step, the
broad-pawed quadruped glided over the frozen crust without sinking an
inch.

Pouchskin had got a little the start, but his pursuer was fast gaining
upon him.  Once or twice, indeed, the bear was close enough to touch
Pouchskin's skirts with his extended snout; but the necessity of rearing
up, before making a stroke with his paw, required him to get still
nearer, and Bruin knew that.

He had, however, got near enough even for this; and had risen on his
hind feet, with the intention of clawing down his victim.  Ivan and
Alexis simultaneously uttered a cry of dismay; but before the dangerous
stroke could descend, he for whom it was intended had sunk out of sight!

At first, the young hunters believed the blow had been struck, and that
Pouchskin had fallen prostrate under it.  They saw the bear spring
forward as if to cover the fallen man; but the next moment their terror
was mingled with astonishment on seeing, or rather _not_ seeing, either
man or bear: both had suddenly disappeared!



CHAPTER TWELVE.

A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE.

The sudden disappearance of both man and bear would no doubt have sadly
perplexed our young hunters, had it not been for Pouchskin's previous
adventure.  With that still fresh in their memory, they were at no loss
to comprehend what had occurred.  While eagerly endeavouring to escape
from his antagonist, Pouchskin had, no doubt, forgotten the dangerous
snow-bridge; and, just as before, he had broken through it.

This time, however, it was no laughing matter.  Pouchskin was no longer
playing a solitary Jack-in-the-box, but, in all likelihood, he was under
the huge body of the savage monster, in the act of being torn to pieces
by his teeth, or perhaps drowned in the _subnivean_ stream.  Whether the
bear had sprung voluntarily after him, or, in the impetus of charging,
had been himself precipitated into the snow chasm without the power of
preventing it, could not for the moment be known.  The young hunters
suspected that the bear had fallen in rather against his will; for
certainly he had been seen to go down in rather an awkward and
blundering manner, his hind legs pitching upwards as he broke through.

Whether the plunge had been voluntary or against his will could matter
but little.  He must be now upon top of the ex-guardsman; and, knowing
the implacable fury of these animals when roused to resentment, his
young masters had no other idea but that their attendant would be either
drowned or torn to pieces.

As a last hope, however, Alexis rushed on over the snow, holding his
ride before him, and prepared to fire its contents into the bear the
moment he should get sight of the animal.

As he advanced, he could hear a plunging and splashing of water, with
other noises,--as the snorting and growling of the bear, and the
crashing of frozen snow, all mixed up in confusion of sounds.
Concluding that these noises were caused by the struggle still going on
between the man and the bear, he hurried forward.  Strange! there came
no voice from Pouchskin!

When within about three paces of the broken edge, an object came under
his eyes, that caused him to halt in his track.  That object was the
snout of the bear, that was projected upward above the surface of the
snow.  The eyes of the animal were not visible, nor any other part of
it, except the aforesaid snout, and about six inches of the muzzle.

The thought instantly occurred to Alexis, that the bear had reared upon
his hind feet, and was endeavouring to clamber out; and this was true
enough, for the instant after, he was seen to spring perpendicularly
upward, until his whole head and part of his neck became visible.  Only
for an instant, however; for Bruin, who now appeared to be playing
Jack-in-the-box, sank once more out of sight, snout and all.

The young hunter was just regretting that he had not taken a snap shot
at the animal's head; but before ten seconds of time had elapsed, the
snout was again popped up by the edge of the hole.  In all probability
the bear would make a second attempt to spring out.

Alexis was therefore waiting till the whole head should show itself; but
quick as a flash of lightning, it occurred to him that the brute might
at the second effort succeed in reaching the surface of the snow, and
then he would himself be in danger.  To avoid this contingency, he
resolved to fire at once; not at the snout, for, although he could not
have failed to send his bullet through it, he knew that that would not
kill the bear, but only render him more desperately furious, if such a
thing had been possible.

It was the bear's skull he meant to take aim at.  From the position of
the animal's snout, of course he could tell exactly where the head must
be, though he could not see it.

Had Alexis been an unskilled marksman, he would have stood his ground;
and, guessing the position of the bear's head, would have fired at it
through the snow.  But he did not act in this manner.  He had scientific
knowledge sufficient to tell him that his bullet, sent in a slanting
direction, might glance off the frozen crust, and miss the mark
altogether.  To ensure its direction, therefore, he instantly glided two
steps forward, poked the barrel of his piece through the snow, until the
muzzle almost touched the head of the bear--and then fired!

For some seconds he saw nothing.  The smoke of the gunpowder, as well as
the snow-dust blown up before the muzzle of the gun, formed a dense
cloud over the spot.  But though Alexis could not see the effect of his
shot, he could tell by what he heard that his bullet had done good work.
A loud "swattering" at the bottom of the hole proclaimed that the bear
was struggling in the water; while his piteous whines and faint grunting
told that his fierce strength was fast passing away.

As soon as the smoke had cleared off, Alexis upon his knees crept
forward to the edge, and looked over it.  There was blood upon the snow;
the side against which the bear had stood was crimsoned with streams of
it; and below, in the water, among the clumps of broken snow-crust,
appeared a dark-brown mass, which Alexis knew to be the body of the
animal.

It was still in motion; but as it was in a prostrate attitude, and
making only feeble efforts, the young hunter knew that the life was
nearly out of it.

It was not this that was now causing him to look down with such an
anxious and troubled countenance.  It was his apprehensions for
Pouchskin.  Where was he?  At the bottom of the crater-like pit Alexis
could see the body of the animal, but nothing of a man--neither arms,
legs, nor body.  Could he be under the bear, concealed by the shaggy
hair?  Was he hidden under the black water that filled the bottom of the
ravine?--or, horrible thought! was he dead, and had his body been
carried off by the current that rushed rapidly under the snow?

This was not improbable, for Alexis could see that there was a sort of
arched tunnel between the snow and the water, quite large enough to have
admitted the body of a man!

In agony he cried out, calling Pouchskin by name.  He was repeating his
despairing invocation, when all at once a loud laugh echoed in his ears,
uttered close behind him.  In the laughter he recognised the voice of
Ivan.

Alexis suddenly leaped to his feet, wondering what on earth could be the
cause of this ill-timed merriment.  He turned towards Ivan with the
intention of chiding him; but at that moment an object fell under his
eye, that hindered him from carrying his intention into effect.  On the
contrary, the sight he saw caused him such joy, that he could not
restrain himself from joining Ivan in his laughter.  No wonder.  The
sight was odd enough to have drawn a smile from a dying man.  A
spectacle more ludicrous could scarce have been conceived.

A little further down the ravine, and about ten paces from where the
boys were standing, an object was seen protruding above the snow.  It
was about ten inches in vertical diameter, something less horizontally,
and of a roundish or oval shape.  In colour it was almost white as the
snow itself: for, indeed, it was sprinkled over with this material out
of the bosom of which it had just emerged.  A stranger coming upon the
ground might have been sorely puzzled to make out what it was; but not
so Ivan, who, on first beholding it, as it popped upward through the
frozen crust, recognised it as the head of Pouchskin.  Alexis also made
it out at the first glance; and it was the comic twinkle of Pouchskin's
eyes--denoting that no great damage had happened to him--that led Alexis
to join his brother in the laughter.

Their merriment, however, was of short continuance--only an involuntary
burst, for a moment's reflection told them that Pouchskin, although they
saw him alive, might nevertheless have sustained some serious injury;
and both at the thought hastened up towards the head.

On getting close to it, however, Ivan was unable to control himself, and
once more gave way to a fit of involuntary laughter.  The head of the
old guardsman, standing up like a sphinx above the frozen surface,--his
grizzled hair powdered all over with snow like the poll of some grand
flunkey,--his long moustache loaded with it,--his eyes sparkling and
twinkling, and his features set in a serio-comic expression,--all
combined to form a picture that it was difficult to contemplate with
seriousness.

Alexis, however, anxious to ascertain as to whether Pouchskin had
received any dangerous wound, did _not_ this time join in his brother's
mirth; and, as soon as they came near enough, his inquiries were
directed to that end.

"Only scratched a bit, masters!" answered the old guardsman,--"only
scratched a bit--nothing much; but the bear--the bear! where has the
brute gone?"

"To his long home," answered Alexis; "you need be under no further
apprehension about him.  I think your knife must have well-nigh settled
his account, for he was unable to get out of the hole again; but,
fortunately, I have finished him with a bullet, and it only remains for
us to haul his carcass up and take the skin off it.  First, however, let
us endeavour to extricate you, my good Pouchskin; and then you can tell
us by what means you have managed to make an escape that certainly
appears miraculous!"

So saying, Alexis, assisted by Ivan, commenced digging away the hard
crust that surrounded the neck of Pouchskin; and kept on at it, until
they had uncovered his shoulders.  Then seizing him by the arms--one on
each side--they drew him up, till his feet once more rested on the
surface of the snow.



CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

A SUBNIVEAN ESCAPE.

Pouchskin proceeded to describe the manner of his escape--his young
masters listening to him with great interest--although they already
guessed pretty nearly how it had been accomplished.  Still there were
some points not so clear to them, which the old guardsman detailed.

In the first place, he had retreated from the bear, not because he
believed himself vanquished, but because he had lost his knife.  Its
handle, wet with blood, had slipped from his grasp; and he could not
tell what had become of it!  Finding himself unarmed, of course his next
thought was to get out of Bruin's way, for what could an unarmed man do
in the embrace of a bear--and such a bear?

He then turned and ran; but he had quite forgotten the dangerous
character of the snow-bed--the bridge that had refused to carry him
before; though, indeed, over it was the only direction he could have
taken.  Had he attempted to run to the right or left, his course must
have been up-hill; and the bear would have been certain to overhaul him
in a couple of leaps.  After all, he had taken the proper direction;
and, as it proved in the end, his breaking through was the most
fortunate accident that could possibly have happened to him.  Had it not
chanced so, he would, in all probability, have fallen into the clutches
of the bear, and been torn to shreds by the infuriated animal.

Well, on touching bottom, he felt the water among his feet, and just
then remembered how it had been before.  He remembered the hollow
archway under the snow, and, seeing the bear above, and in the act of
being precipitated on top of him, he suddenly ducked his head, and
pushed himself into the tunnel.  He could feel the bear falling upon him
behind, and the weight of the animal's body, as it was precipitated
downwards, forced him still further under the snow-bridge.

Once in, he continued on down the stream, working both with head and
arms, and clearing a space that would allow his body to pass.  The soft
snow was easily pressed out of the way; and, after going as far as he
deemed necessary, he turned to the right, and worked his way upward to
the surface.

It was while he was thus engaged that Alexis had been squaring accounts
with the bear.  The fierce creature had not followed Pouchskin under the
snow.  In all probability, his sudden "souse" into the water had
astonished Bruin himself;--from that moment all his thoughts were to
provide for his own safety, and, with this intention, he was
endeavouring to get back to the surface of the snowdrift, when Alexis
first caught sight of his snout.

At the moment that Alexis fired the final shot, or just a little after
it, Pouchskin had popped up his head through the congealed crust of the
snow, and elicited from Ivan those peals of laughter that had so much
astonished his brother.  Pouchskin, however, had not come unscathed out
of the "scrimmage."  On examining the old guardsman, it was found that
the bear had clawed him severely; and a piece of skin, of several inches
square was peeled from his left shoulder.  The flesh, too, was rather
badly lacerated.

Alexis was not without some surgical skill; and, without suffering a
moment to be lost, he dressed the wound in the best manner possible
under the circumstances.  A clean handkerchief, which Ivan chanced to
have, served as a covering for the scar; and this being tied on
securely, with a strip torn from the sleeve of Pouchskin's own shirt,
left the wounded guardsman in a condition to recover, as soon as it
might please nature to permit.  Nothing more could have been done by the
most "skilful practitioner."

Their next business was to look after the bear.  On going back to the
hole, and, gazing into it, the animal, as Alexis had anticipated, was
quite dead; and the water, partially dammed up by the huge carcass, was
flowing over it.

Ivan, who had hitherto done least of all to secure the prize, now became
the most active of the three; and, leaping down upon the body of the
great brute, he looped the rope around one of its hind legs, and then
stood on one side to help the rest in raising it upward.

Alexis and Pouchskin commenced hauling on the other end of the rope, and
the vast mass slowly ascended upward, Ivan pushing from below, and
guiding it past the inequalities of the snow.  It would have been a
different sort of a task, to have hauled Bruin out of such a hole three
months earlier in the season; that is, about the time he had lain down
for his winter _siesta_.  Then he would have turned six or seven hundred
pounds upon the scales, whereas at this time he was not more than half
the weight.  His skin, however, was in just as good condition as if he
had been fat; and it was this, and not his carcass, that our hunters
cared for.

After some tough pulling, accompanied by a good deal of shouting from
Ivan at the bottom of the hole, the huge carcass was dragged forth, and
lay at full length along the frozen snow.  It was still necessary to
raise it to the branch of a tree, in order that it might be skinned in a
proper manner.  This however, could be easily accomplished by means of
the rope.

Up to this time Pouchskin had been puzzled about the loss of his knife.
Everywhere he looked for it; but it was nowhere to be found.  All the
surface _over_ which he had danced with the bear was carefully examined,
and the snow scraped up to the depth of several inches.  There was the
blood of the bear, and some of Pouchskin's own too, but no knife!  Could
it have got into the water?  No.  Pouchskin declared that he had dropped
it near the edge of the snow-bed: for this accident, as already stated,
had been the cause of his retreat from the conflict.

It was only when the great carcass was being hauled up to the branch,
that the lost knife made its appearance.  Then, to the astonishment of
the young hunters, as well as to Pouchskin himself, the knife was seen
sticking in the shoulder of the bear!  There it had been when the haft
slipped from his hands, and there had it remained.  No doubt that stab
would have given the bear his death-blow; but still more fatal had been
the bullet from the rifle of Alexis, which had passed through Bruin's
brain, crushing his skull like a shell!

The skinning of the animal was accomplished with great care; for the
coat was one of the finest, and the boys knew with what interest it
would be regarded on its arrival at the palace Grodonoff.  They spared
no pains, therefore, in removing it from the carcass; and after the work
was finished, it was neatly folded up, tied with the rope, and placed
like a knapsack on Pouchskin's shoulders.

Of the carcass they took no heed; but leaving it to the wolves, the
gluttons, or any other carnivorous creatures that might chance to stray
that way, they turned back up the ravine; and, striking off on a path
that led towards the tent of the Laplander, reached their smoky quarters
in good time for dinner.



CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

RINGING THE BEAR.

The bear thus killed was the true _ursus arctos_, or brown bear--the
latter name being given to him from the colour of his fur, which, in
ninety-nine cases out of every hundred, is a uniform brown.  The name,
however, is not appropriate, since there are other brown bears belonging
to very different species.

Having secured his robe, as we have seen, the next call of our hunters
was to obtain a skin from the body of his black brother.  They were well
aware that this would not be so easy of accomplishment, from the simple
fact, that the _ursus niger_, or "European black bear," is one of the
rarest of animals--indeed, so few of them are obtained, that out of a
thousand skins of the European bear that pass through the hands of the
furriers, not more than two or three will be found to be of the black
variety.

It is true that they were just in the country where they would be most
likely to fall in with one; for it is only in the northern zone of
Europe (and Asia also) where the black ones are found.  This variety is
not encountered in the southern ranges of mountains in the Alps,
Pyrenees, and Carpathians.  Whether this black bear is a distinct
species was not a question with them.  They knew that by most
naturalists he is recognised as a variety--by some a permanent one.  It
was therefore certainly included in the conditions of their father's
letter; and a skin must be procured _coute qui coute_.  This done, they
would have no further business in Lapland, but might proceed at once to
the Pyrenees.

It was not necessary to procure skins of the grey or silver bear, nor
that with the white ring round its neck--known as the ringed or collared
bear.  As Alexis had said, it is acknowledged by all who know the _ursus
arctos_ his native haunts, that these are mere accidental varieties.
The true "collared bear" (_ursus collaris_) is not found in Lapland,--
only in northern Asia and Kamschatka, and it is he that is known as the
"Siberian bear."  The boys therefore were not "bound" by their covenant
to procure these varieties; but for all that, they were gratified at
going beyond the strict letter of their agreement, which good luck
enabled them to do; for while scouring the country in search of the
_ursus niger_, they chanced upon another brown bear, a female, with
three cubs, one of which was brown, like the mother; the second had the
white ring round its neck, and the third was as grey as a little badger!
All four were taken; and the young hunters not only had the
gratification of being able to send the different varieties of skins to
their father's museum, but an additional satisfaction was afforded to
Alexis, the naturalist, by this grand family capture.  It proved
incontestably, what he already suspected, and what, moreover, the native
peasants and hunters had told him, that the "silver" and "ringed" bears
were identical with the _ursus arctos_.

Notwithstanding their joy at the capture of the old she, and her
parti-coloured pets, they were yet very anxious about the black bear.
They had hunted all the forests and mountains for miles around, and had
even succeeded in killing several other specimens of "Brownie," but no
"Blackie" was to be met with.

It had now got known among the native hunters what they were in search
of; and, as they had offered a liberal reward to any one who could guide
them to the haunt or den of a real black bear, it was not unlikely they
should soon hear of one.

In this expectation they were not deceived.  About a week after the
offer had been proclaimed, a Finnish peasant (one of the Quans, as they
are called) made his appearance at their headquarters, add announced
that he had "ringed" a black bear.  It was welcome tidings; and the
young Russians at once proceeded to the indicated place.

It may be necessary to explain what the man meant when he told them he
had "ringed" the bear; since that is a phrase of specific meaning
throughout the countries of Scandinavia.  In these countries, when the
track of a bear is observed in the snow, it is followed up by the person
who has discovered it, with the intention of "ringing" the animal--that
is, ascertaining as near as maybe, the locality in which it may have
halted from its rambles, and lain down to rest.  Of course, if the
person thus trailing the bear be a hunter--or if it be a party of
hunters actually engaged in the chase, they will keep on until they have
found the bear in his den.  But in nine cases out of ten, bears are not
pursued in this fashion.  Generally, their haunt--whether temporary or
otherwise--has been ascertained beforehand, by some shepherd or
woodcutter, and a party of hunters then proceeds to the spot, and makes
a surround of the animal before rousing him from his lair.

This "surround," however, has nothing whatever to do with the "ringing"
of the bear, which is an operation of a different character, and is
performed by the party who has first chanced upon the tracks.  The mode
of proceeding is simply to follow the trail, or _spar_, of the bear as
silently as possible--until the tracker has reason to believe that the
animal is not far off.  This he discovers by observing that the _spar_
no longer trends in a direct line, but doubles about in zigzags, and
backward turnings, upon itself; for when a bear intends to lie down, it
is his habit to quarter the ground in every direction, precisely as does
the hare before squatting in her form.

Many other animals observe a similar caution before going to rest.

The bear-tracker having reached this point, then leaves the track
altogether, and makes a circuit round that part of the forest within
which he suspects Bruin to have couched himself.  This circuit is of
greater or less diameter, according to circumstances--depending on the
season of the year, nature of the ground, and a variety of other
considerations.  While going round this circle, if it should be seen
that the track of the bear leads beyond it, then that "ring" is given
up, and another commenced further forward.  If, on the other hand, the
tracker gets round to the place whence he first started, without again
coming upon the _spar_, he concludes that the bear must be lying
somewhere within the circumference which he has traced, and will there
be found.  This, then, is termed "ringing" the bear.

You may wonder why the man does not follow up the _spar_ until he
actually reaches the den or lair of the animal.  That is easily
explained.  The tracker is not always a bear-hunter, and even if he
were, it would not be prudent for him to approach a bear without
assistants, who, by surrounding the animal, should cut off its retreat.
Were he to go forward direct to the bear's hiding-place, Bruin would, in
all probability, discover him before he could approach within shot; and,
making a bolt, might carry him a chase of ten or twelve miles before
stopping.  The brown bear often does so.

The tracker, having ascertained the circle within which the animal has
made its temporary resting-place, next proceeds to warn the hunters of
his village or settlement; and then a large party go out for the
destruction of the common enemy.  They deploy around the ring, and
closing inward, are pretty sure to find the bear either asleep in his
den, or just starting out of it, and trying to get off.  The "ring" will
usually keep for several days--sometimes for weeks--for the bear,
especially in winter time, will remain in the vicinity of his lair for
long spells at a time.  Frequently several days will elapse before any
hunters arrive on the ground; but, if the bear should have strayed off
in the mean time, his tracks in the snow will still enable them to
follow and find him.  If, however, fresh snow should have fallen, after
the bear has made his exit from the marked circle, then, of course, the
search will prove a blank, and Bruin make his escape--at least out of
that "ring."

One of the most singular features of this custom is, that he who has
succeeded in "ringing" a bear, is regarded as the lawful proprietor of
the animal--or rather of the "ring"--and can dispose of his right to any
hunting party he pleases.  Of course he cannot guarantee the killing of
the bear: that is left to the skill of the hunters, who must take their
chance.  The tracker only answers for a bear being found within a
prescribed circle, of which he gives proof by pointing out the _spar_.
With such conditions, established by long and well-observed custom, it
will easily be believed that the woodcutters and other peasants make a
market by ringing bears, frequently disposing of the "ring" to the more
ardent hunters for a very considerable price!  It was just with this
view that the Finnish peasant had put himself in communication with our
young Russians; and as the bounty they had already offered far exceeded
the usual purchase-money in such cases, the Quan at once closed with
their offer, and conducted them to the "ring."



CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

OLD NALLE.

While proceeding towards the ground where they expected to find the
bear, their guide informed them that he had not only ringed the animal,
but actually knew the den in which it was lying.  This was still better:
it would not only save them a search, but enable them to encompass the
beast on all sides and cut off his retreat--should he attempt to bolt
before they could get near.

On approaching the place, therefore, Pouchskin proposed that the three
should separate, and, after having deployed into a circle, proceed
inward from different directions.

But the guide opposed this suggestion--saying, with a significant smile,
that there was no need of such precautions, as he would answer for the
bear not leaving his den, until they had all got up as near as they
might wish to be.

The hunters wondered at this confidence on the part of their guide, but
in a few minutes' time they had an explanation of it.  Going up to a
sort of cliff that formed the side of a little stony knoll, the Quan
pointed to a hole in the rocks, saying, as he did so:--

"Old _nalle_ is in there."

Now "nalle" is the nickname of the bear throughout the Scandinavian
countries, and our Russian hunters knew this well enough; but that a
bear could be inside the little hole, to which their guide had pointed,
appeared utterly incredible, and Ivan and Alexis burst into a loud
laugh, while Pouchskin was rather inclined to show a little anger about
the matter.

The hole which the Quan had pointed out was a crevice between two great
boulders of rock.  It was about a yard above the ground, upon which they
stood; and was certainly not more than six or eight inches in diameter.
All round the orifice the rocks were thickly coated with ice; and from
the top of the cliff on both sides huge icicles projected downwards,
until their tips touched the earth, looking like enormous trunks of
elephants, or such as even mammoths might have carried.  One of these
immense icicles was directly in front of the aperture; while on the
ground just below its point stood up a huge mass of an irregular conical
shape, the convex surface of which was coated with snow that had lately
fallen.

The first impression of the hunters was, that they had been deceived by
the cunning Quan.  Pouchskin declared that they would not stand being
tricked; and at once demanded back the ten rix-dollars which his young
masters had paid for the "ring" of the bear.

"It was all nonsense," he said; "even if there was a cave, no bear could
be inside, for the simple reason that none, even the smallest, could
possibly have squeezed his carcass through a hole like that;--a cat
could hardly have crept into such an aperture.  Besides, where were the
tracks of the bear?  There were none to be seen--neither by the mouth of
the hole, nor in the snow outside."

There were old tracks of the peasant himself and of a dog, but not of a
bear.

"It's a decided take-in," grumbled Pouchskin.

"Patience, master!" said the Quan.  "There is a bear inside for all
that; and I'll prove it, or else return you your money.  See my little
dog! he'll tell you old _nalle_ is there.  It was he that told me."

As the Quan said this he let slip a diminutive cur, which he had
hitherto held in the leash.  The animal, on being set free, rushed up to
the hole, and commenced scratching at the ice, and barking in the most
furious and excited manner.  It certainly proved there was some living
creature inside; but how could the Quan tell it was a bear? and, above
all, a black bear!

He was interrogated on this point.

"By it," replied the peasant, taking from his pouch a tuft of long black
fur, which was evidently that of a bear; "that is how I know that old
_nalle's_ in the cave, and the colour of the hair tells me that it's
_black nalle_ who's inside."

"But how came you by that?" inquired all three in a breath, as the man
held the tuft before their eyes.

"Well, masters!" answered the Quan, "you see some jaggy points on the
rock, at the top of the hole, there.  I found it sticking there, where
the bear must have left it, as he was squeezing himself into his cave--
that's how it was."

"But surely," said Alexis, "you don't mean to assert that a bear could
pass through such a hole as that?  Why, a badger couldn't get in there,
my man!"

"Not _now_," said the Quan, "I admit; it's three months since he went
in.  The hole was bigger then."

"Bigger _then_?"

"Certainly, masters! the heap you see below is only ice.  It's the drip
of that great icicle that has frozen up as it fell, and if it were not
there you'd see a place big enough for a bear to get in.  Ah! sirs! he's
there, I can assure you."

"Why, he couldn't get out of himself?"

"That is very true," replied the peasant; "he'd be safe enough there
till a good bit on in the spring.  If we hadn't found him, he would have
been obliged to stay in his cave till the sun had thawed that great heap
out of his way.  It often happens so with the bears in these parts,"
added the Quan, without seeming to think there was anything unusual
about the circumstance.

What the man said was literally true.  The bear had gone into this cleft
or cave to take his winter nap, and during the long weeks, while he was
thus hybernating, the water, of rain and melting snow, dripping from the
top of the cliff, had formed enormous stalactites of ice, with
stalagmites as well: since it was one of the latter that had closed up
the entrance to the den, and fairly shut him up in his own house!

Not only does this curious accident often occur to Scandinavian bears,
but these animals, notwithstanding their proverbial sagacity, frequently
become their own jailers.  They have a habit of collecting large
quantities of moss and grass in front of their caves, which they place
right in the aperture; and not inside as a bed to lie upon.  Why they do
so is not clearly understood.  The Scandinavian hunters allege that it
is for the purpose of sheltering them from the cold wind, that would
otherwise blow up into their chamber; and in the absence of any better
explanation this has been generally adopted.  The heap soon gets
saturated by rain and melting snow, and congeals into a solid mass, so
hard that it requires to be cut with an axe before it can be got out of
the way; and the bear himself is totally incapable of removing it.  The
consequence is that it often shuts up the entrance to his winter
chamber; and Bruin, on awakening from his sleep, finds himself caught in
a trap of his own construction.  He has then no other resource but to
remain inside till the spring heats have thawed the mass, so that he can
tear it to pieces with his claws, and thus effect an exit.  On such
occasions, he issues forth in a state of extreme weakness and
emaciation.  Not unfrequently he is altogether unable to clear away the
obstacle, and perishes in his den.

On hearing these explanations from the Quan, who appeared to be well
acquainted with Bruin's habits, the young hunters were satisfied that a
bear was really in the cave.  Indeed, they were not long upon the spot,
till they had still more satisfactory evidence of this fact; for they
could hear the "sniffing" of the animal, with an occasional querulous
growl, as if uttered in answer to the barking of the dog.  Beyond doubt,
there was a bear inside.

How was he to be got out?  That now became the important question.



CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

THE STAKED ENCLOSURE.

They waited, for a time, in hopes that he might show his snout at the
little aperture, and all three stood watching it, with guns cocked and
ready.  A good while passed, however, and, as no snout made its
appearance, they came to the conclusion that the bear was not to be
caught in that simple way.  By the snorting growl they could tell that
he was at no great distance from the entrance, and they thought a pole
might reach him.  They tried this, but found that it could be inserted
only in a diagonal direction; and although Pouchskin poised in the pole,
and bent it round like a rattan, he could not touch wool anywhere; while
the bear, though he gave tongue now and then, still kept his place at
the further end of the cave.

No other plan offered, except to cut away the icy mass, and set open the
mouth of the cavity.  If this were done, would Bruin be then likely to
come forth?  The Quan was confident he would; alleging as his reason,
that, in consequence of the spell of warm weather there had been, the
bear must have fully shaken off his winter drowsiness, and would no
doubt have been abroad long ago, but for the ice preventing his egress
from the den.  As soon as that should be removed, he would be pretty
sure to sally out--for hunger, said the peasant, will bring him forth,
if not just at the moment, certainly within an hour or so.  At the worst
they could wait a while.  Moreover, were the ice removed, they might be
able to reach him with a pole; and that would be certain to put him in
such a rage as would at once tempt him to make a _sortie_.

With this idea, Pouchskin seized his axe, knocked the great icicle into
"smithereens," and was about going to work upon the huge _stalagmite_
that blocked up the entrance, when he was interrupted by the Quan.

"With your leave, master!" said the latter, as he laid his hand upon
Pouchskin's arm to restrain him.  "Not so fast, if you please?"

"Why?" asked the ex-guardsman, "don't you intend to unearth the brute?"

"Yes, master," replied the Quan; "but something must be done first.
This is a black bear, you must know."

"Well, and what of a black one more than any other?" demanded Pouchskin,
somewhat surprised, for in the forests of Russia, where he had hunted
bears, there were no black ones.

"Don't you know," said the Finn, "that Black Nalle is always bigger and
fiercer than his brown brother?  Besides, just at this time he will be
so savage with hunger, that he would eat one of us up the moment he got
out.  If that ice was away, I shouldn't like to stand here.  Take your
time, master!  I think I can show you a better plan, at all events it is
a safer one.  It's a way we practise here--when we are sure that a bear
is asleep, and won't interrupt us while we're making ready for him."

"Oh, well," replied Pouchskin, "I'm agreeable to anything you propose.
I'm not particularly desirous of risking another wrestle--not I--I had
enough of that the other day."  And as the old guardsman made the
remark, he gave a significant shrug of his shoulders, the wounds upon
which not being yet quite cicatrised, feelingly reminded him of the
rough handling he had received.

"Well then," said the Quan, "if you will help me to cut some strong
stakes, I shall show you a plan by which you may knock old _nalle_ upon
the skull without danger to any of us, or send your bullets through his
brain, if you like better to kill him in that way."

All, of course, agreed to the Quan's proposal; for if the black bear was
as he represented him, fiercer than his brown brethren, it would be no
pleasant prospect to have him loose among them; and in case of their not
being able to shoot him dead on the spot as he rushed out, they might
not only be in danger of getting mauled, but in danger of what they
dreaded almost as much--losing him altogether.  He might get off into
the forest; and as there were tracts along the hill-sides, now quite
clear of snow, he might steal away from them beyond recovery.  This
would be a disappointment of no ordinary kind.  In fact, it might be the
means of keeping them for weeks, or perhaps months, from proceeding on
their journey: since it might be weeks or months before they should fall
in with another chance of obtaining a black bearskin; and until that was
procured they could not turn their faces towards Spain.

With such a prospect then, they were only too ready to agree to any
conditions by which the bear might be safely secured.

The Quan was not long in disclosing his plan; and as soon as he had
communicated it, all three set to work to aid him in its execution.

A number of stout stakes were cut--each about six feet in length, and
pointed at one end.  These were driven into the earth around the outer
edge of the icy mass, in a sort of semicircular row; and so as to
enclose a small space in front of the aperture.  To hold the stakes all
the more firmly, large stones were piled up against them, and the
uprights themselves were closely wattled together by the broad flat
branches of the spruce pines that grew near.  In this way was
constructed a fence that a cat could not have crawled through, much less
a bear.  One aperture only was left in it, and that was directly in
front--a hole at about the height of a man's knee from the ground, and
just big enough to admit the head of a bear--for that was the purpose
for which it was intended.

The next thing done was to roof the whole of this stockade enclosure;
and that was accomplished by resting long poles horizontally over it,
tying them at the ends to the tops of the uprights, and then covering
them thickly with _granris_ (the spray lopped from the branches of the
evergreen pines).

It now only remained to get the ice cut of the way, and allow the bear
to come forth.  That would not have been so easy of accomplishment, had
it not been already partially removed.  Before closing up the top,
Pouchskin, directed by the Finnish peasant, had cut away most of the
mass, leaving only a shell; which, although filling up the entrance as
before, could be easily beaten down, or driven in from the outside of
the enclosure.

During the time that the ex-guardsman had been sapping away the ice, he
had been keeping a sharp lookout.  He was admonished to do this by
certain noises that, now and then, came rumbling out of the cave; and
not very certain that he was in perfect safety, he had been under some
apprehension.  The bear, by throwing all his weight against the reduced
mass of ice, _might_ break his way out; and as by the constant
chiselling the wall grew weaker and thinner, Pouchskin's fears increased
in proportion.  He was only too happy, when, having picked the congealed
mass to what was thought a sufficient thinness, he desisted from his
work, and crept out of the enclosure, through the space that had been
kept open for him.

This was now fenced up as securely as the rest; and it only remained to
knock away the icy barricade, and tempt Bruin to come forth.

The icy wall could be broken in by means of a long boar-spear with which
the Finnish peasant had provided himself.  It was headed with a heavy
piece of iron, edged and tipped with the best Swedish steel, and this
being jobbed against the ice, and kept constantly at work, soon
splintered the shell into pieces.

As soon as the Quan saw that he had opened a hole large enough to pass
the body of the bear, he drew back his spear, telling the hunter to look
out.

During the operation, all three had kept watch through crevices in the
stockade-wall, holding their guns pointed towards the aperture, and
ready to give the bear a volley the moment he should show his snout.



CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

THE SPITTING-DEVIL.

To their disappointment, however, the bear refused to exhibit even as
much as the tip of his nose, not only while his door was being opened,
but afterwards; and they began to think that he might not come forth
after all.

The Quan assured them that he would be certain to do so in time; but
perhaps not for a few hours, till after they should have remained quiet
a while, and old _nalle_ should fancy they had gone away.

"He has been a long time without his breakfast," added the Quan, "and
his stomach will now be talking loudly to him; that will tell him to
steal out for something to eat.  No fear of it, masters!"

"But for what purpose have you designed this hole?" inquired Ivan,
pointing to the little aperture that had been left in the wattled
enclosure.

"Oh," replied the peasant, "that is how we kill bears sometimes;
especially if we are not rich enough to have a gun.  As soon as old
_nalle_ rushes out from his den, the first thing he does is to run all
round, looking for a chance to break through the fence.  Of course he
finds the hole, and pokes his head through it.  One of us stands
outside, as you see me now, with a hatchet ready; and we would be
clumsy, indeed, if we could not cleave in his skull, or give him such a
crack upon it, as would turn him back downwards.  You shall see how the
bear will rush to this hole the moment he comes out, and then, masters!
you shall see!"

Here the Quan gave a significant shake to his hatchet, twirling it with
the dexterity peculiar to his craft, for it so chanced that he was a
woodcutter by trade.

Our hunters, however, saw that this would never do.  According to the
conditions under which they travelled, the bear must be killed by one of
themselves; and, therefore, after a little explanation, the Quan
resigned his intention and stepped aside.  His post, however, was
supplied by the ex-guardsman, who, poising his ponderous axe, stood
ready to deal a far heavier, and deadlier, blow than could be given by
any woodcutter in Scandinavia.  Alexis took charge of Pouchskin's gun,
determined to fire it as soon as he had discharged his own rifle; and as
Ivan had one barrel loaded with ball and the other with slugs, it was
not likely, against such a formidable battery as was thus prepared for
him, that Bruin could manage to live much longer.

It now became a question whether they should wait patiently till the
bear came out, or whether they might not adopt some mode of tempting him
forth, that would act upon him more rapidly than the cravings of his
stomach.

There could be no harm in trying to reach and stir him up with a pole;
and for this purpose the woodcutter stepped aside to find one.

He very soon succeeded in procuring a long birch sapling--as long as an
ordinary fishing-rod; and having cleared this of its spray, he inserted
it into the cave.  To the gratification of the party it was found long
enough for the purpose; for by the muffled feel it could only be Bruin's
fur that its point was buried in.  It was just as far, however, as the
pole would reach; and as it was a slender sapling without any stiffness
in it, they were unable to do anything in the way of giving him a poke.
No doubt, had the entrance to his den been wider, even the tickling of
the pole would have caused him to "turn out;" for a bear, unless badly
wounded, will not stand much badgering.  It was possible, in this case,
that Bruin suspected there was some trap set for him outside--indeed,
the noises he had been listening to for more than an hour, must have
admonished him that all was not as it ought to be; and this perhaps
rendered him more wary than was his wont.  He might not yet be aware
that his door was open; for the roofed enclosure still kept out the
light as much as the _stalagmite_ had done; and although he might have
heard the icy mass giving way before the axe and spear, he might not
understand all that.  It was necessary, therefore, to coax him as far as
the threshold--so that he might discover that the door of his chamber
had been opened for him.

The tickling of the pole, however, proved of no service; for, although
it drew from the huge brute a sniff or two, he still kept to his bed.

What was to be done?  Must they retire, and wait patiently till the
calls of hunger should urge him forth?  The day was piercingly cold, and
to remain there long would have been unpleasant enough.  They might,
indeed, have to stay by the cave all day and all night too: for the
enclosure had been only slightly put up--merely to check the bear for a
few minutes--and if they were to leave him all night to himself, he
could easily tear down the stakes and get off.

They could not think of deserting the spot for an instant; but to avoid
a long vigil they set about considering some plan by which Bruin might
be induced to come forth from his inaccessible retreat.

A thought occurred to Ivan, who was a quick conceiver--a plan which
promised well--and that was to make a "spitting-devil," and send it up
into the cave.  It appeared a good idea--at all events, it would not be
difficult to give it a trial.  Gunpowder was not scarce with them--since
Russian roubles were plenty; and Pouchskin, pouring out nearly a quarter
of a pound into the palm of his broad hand, commenced spitting upon it
and working the powder into a paste.  Ivan, who directed this operation,
was determined his plan should not fail by any stinginess in regard to
the materials required for carrying it out.

After a short space of time the plastic fingers of Pouchskin had
elaborated the powder paste into a roll as large as a regalia cigar; and
this being dried slightly near a fire--which they had long before
kindled--was ready for the touch.  To the old grenadier was intrusted
the management of the miniature rocket; and, while the young hunters
once more stood to their guns, he proceeded to carry out the design.

Having thrust his head through the hole intended for the bear, and his
arm through another which he had made for himself, he held the "devil"
at arm's length between his finger and thumb.  The Quan now took a
blazing faggot from the fire, and passing it between the wattles,
ignited the _fuse_ which the old grenadier had ingeniously placed in the
"devil's" tail.

As soon as Pouchskin perceived that it was fairly on fire, with an
adroit jerk he sent the little rocket up into the cave, as far as he
could throw it; and then jerking himself backward, he seized hold of his
axe.

There was a moment of suspense; not long: for almost on the instant a
brilliant light shone within the cave, accompanied with a sputtering and
whizzing and cracking, as if half a dozen alarm-clocks had been set
going at the same time!  In the midst of this confusion of noises, and
louder far than any, could be heard a number of sharp wild shrieks, and
before the rocket had half burnt out, Bruin was seen bolting forth over
the broken fragments of ice.  Two shots were fired, almost
simultaneously; but both failed to check his onward rush; and with a
mighty force he came "bump" against the palisades, causing them to crash
and swag as if they would give way.  It was fortunate for the hunters
that the stakes stood the shock: for such a set of teeth as that bear
exhibited they had never before seen.  A single stroke from those paws
would have been enough to crack the thickest skull in creation.

Ivan gave him his second barrel--the one loaded with slugs,--but it only
served to increase his fury; and now rearing up, and then going on
all-fours, he kept rushing backward and forward through the enclosure,
all the while uttering fierce growls.

Alexis, meanwhile, had dropped his rifle and taken up the fusil of
Pouchskin.  His place was at one side of the enclosure.  He had already
got the barrel through the wattles, and was endeavouring to level it
upon the bear--seeking for a mortal part at which he might aim.  The
darkness, however,--for the roofed stockade rendered it dark--combined
with the quick movements of the animal, hindered him from getting a
sight to his satisfaction.  He knew the importance of making this a
killing shot.  Should the bear, wounded as he now was, retreat back into
his den, there would be no chance whatever of getting him out again.
Alexis thought of this; and therefore resolved not to fire at random, as
he had done before.  He knew that a full-grown bear, unless shot in the
brain or heart, can accommodate a score of bullets without being much
inconvenienced by them.

Knowing this, Alexis was biding his time, when all at once he perceived
the bear make halt on the front side of the enclosure.  He now aimed at
the heart of the huge animal, but before he could pull trigger, a loud
crash sounded in his ear, and Bruin was seen dropping to the ground,
where he continued to lie, almost without giving a kick!

It was the axe of Pouchskin that had caused the crash, as its edge of
steel descended upon the bear's cranium, smashing it in as if it had
been an eggshell.  As the Quan predicted, the animal had imprudently
poked his head through the aperture where Pouchskin was standing ready
for him.

This, of course, finished the affair.  It was only necessary to remove
the palisades, sling the bear to a tree, and then strip him of his
much-coveted skin.  All this in due time was accomplished; and with the
robe once more packed on the shoulders of Pouchskin, the hunters
returned to their headquarters.

It proved--as the Quan had promised them--to be a black bear; not that
his fur was altogether black, as is the case with the _ursus americanus_
and the black bears of India.  On the contrary, the hair was brown near
the roots, and only black at the tips, which, however, gave it the
appearance of being black all over the surface; and Alexis knew that
this was the variety of bear they were in search of.

Satisfied that they had obtained the skin of the _ursus niger_, it only
remained for our hunters to pack up their travelling traps, bid adieu to
the cold climate of Scandinavia, and start for the sunny south--for the
far-famed Pyrenees of Spain.



CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

THE PALOMBIERE.

It is not intended to detail the many incidents that befell them on the
way, the chit-chat of steamboats, railroads, and hotels.  Their father
cared not to hear of these trifles; he could read enough of such
delightful stuff in the books of whole legions of travellers; and, as
they did not note anything of this kind in their journal, we are left to
suppose that they encountered the usual pleasures and _desagremens_
which all travellers must experience on similar journeys.  As money was
no object, they travelled with expedition--making only a short stay in
the great capitals through which they passed, in order to have their
passports _vised_, and sometimes for the purpose of using the great
emperor's letter for the replenishment of their exchequer.  This magic
document proved all-powerful everywhere they went; and as they knew it
would be so in all corners of the habitable globe, they could rely upon
it with perfect confidence.  Pouchskin's leathers bag was always well
weighted with the yellow metal,--and _specie_, whatever stamp it may
bear, is current all over the world.

Their journal merely mentions the route followed.  From their
hunting-ground they returned down the Tornea river, which, running due
north and south, of course did not compromise the terms of their
covenant; neither were the conditions infringed by their taking at any
time the backtrack when engaged in the chase, for, as already known,
there was a specification in the baron's letter, that allowed of this
deviation.  All that was required of them was that they should not
recross a meridian when on their actual route of travel.

A ship carried them from Tornea to Dantzic.  Hence they passed to
Berlin, and on through Frankfort, Stutgard, and Strasbourg, to Paris.
Paris, it is true, was a little out of their way; but what Russian could
travel across Europe without paying a visit to Paris?  Pouchskin cared
little about it.  The old grenadier had been there before--in 1815--when
he was far from being welcome to the Parisians; and Alexis would rather
have gone by another and more direct route, that is, through
Switzerland; but the gay Ivan would not hear of such a thing.  To see
Paris he was determined; and see it he did; though what he or they did
there is not mentioned in the book of the chronicles of our young
bear-hunters.

From Paris they travelled by rail, almost directly south--though still
slightly westward--to the celebrated baths of Bagneres.  Here they found
themselves not only within sight, but actually among the _foot-hills_ of
those mountains, for the tourist scarce second in interest to the Alps
themselves, but perhaps for the naturalist even more interesting than
these.

At Bagneres they made but a short stay, only long enough to recruit
their strength by bathing in its thermal springs, and to witness a
spectacle which is regarded as the grand lion of the place--the
_Palombiere_.

As you, young reader, may not have heard of the _Palombiere_, and may be
curious to know what it is, I give the account of it, which I find
recorded in the journal of Alexis.

About two miles from Bagneres rises a ridge of considerable elevation--
running parallel with the general direction of the Pyrenees, of which it
may be considered an outlying step, or "foot hill" (_pied mont_).  Along
the crest of this hill stands a row of very tall trees, from which the
branches have been carefully lopped, leaving only a little bunch at the
top of each.  On coming close to these trees--provided it be in the
months of September or October--you will observe a something between
them that resembles a thin gauzy veil of a greyish colour.  On getting
still nearer, you will perceive that this veil is a net--or rather a
series of nets--extended from tree to tree, and filling up all the
spaces between them--from the highest point to which the branches have
been lopped down to within three feet of the ground.

Another singular object, or series of objects, will long ere this have
attracted your attention.  You will see standing, at certain intervals
apart, and about thirty yards in front of the trees, a row of tall
tapering sticks--so tall that their tops are fifty yards from the
ground!  They might remind you of the masts of a ship; but that there
are in each case two of them together,--the one standing vertically, and
the other bending over to it, with a slight curve.  On this account you
may be more struck with their resemblance to the "shears" seen in
shipyards, by which the masts are "stepped" into their places.  These
masts, as we may call them, are not all of one stick of wood, but of
several pieces spliced together; and notwithstanding their prodigious
length--fifty yards, you will remember--they are of no great thickness.
In fact, although the two are joined together at the top--as we shall
presently have occasion to show--when a strong wind blows, both bend,
and vibrate back and forward like an elastic trout rod.  At their bases
they are only five feet apart; and the curving one is intended to act as
a stay to the other.  Both, as already stated, meet at the top, and
looking up you will see--while the sight makes you dizzy--a little
roundish object at the point of the junction.  It is a basket set there
firmly, and just big enough to hold the body of a man.  If you look
carefully you will see a man actually within it; but, to quote
Shakespeare's quaint simile, he will appear to your eyes not half as
gross as a beetle!  In all likelihood he is not a man, but only a boy;
for it is boys who are selected to perform this elevated and apparently
dangerous service.

How did the boy get there? will probably be your next question.  By
running your eye along the curved pole, you will perceive a row of
projecting pegs extending from bottom to top.  They are quite two feet
apart; but had you been present while that youth was making the ascent--
which he did by the help of these pegs--you would have seen him scramble
up as rapidly, and with as little concern, as a sailor would ascend the
ratlines of a ship!  It is his trade to do so, and practice has made him
as nimble as he is intrepid; but you, who are unaccustomed to witness
such tall gymnastics, cannot help again recalling Shakespeare, and
exclaiming, with the great dramatic poet, "Fearful trade!"  Quite as
fearful, indeed, as the gathering of "samphire."

But what is this trade?  What is all this contrivance for--these nets
and tall masts, with "crows' nests" at their tops?  What are the boys
doing up there?  And what are they about below--those men, women, and
children--a crowd composed of all ages and all sexes?  What are they
doing?

_Pigeon-catching_.  That is what they are doing, or rather what they are
aiming to do, as soon as the opportunity offers.  These people are
simply pigeon-catchers.

What sort of pigeons? and where do they come from?  These questions must
be answered.

To the first, then, the answer is the common European wild pigeon
(_columba palumbis_).  It is well-known in England by the name of
"wood-pigeon," and in France it is called _ramier_.  In England the
wood-pigeon is not migratory.  In that country there is a much milder
winter than is experienced in the same or even a more southerly latitude
on the Continent.  This enables the pigeon to find food throughout all
the year, and it therefore remains in England.  In continental
countries--Prance among the number--the severity of the winter forces it
southward; and it annually migrates into Africa--the supposed limit of
its flight being the chain of the Atlas mountains.  Of course the
wood-pigeon is only one of many birds that make this annual tour,
taking, as the rest do, a "return ticket."

Now the _ramiers_ of France, in passing southward, must ply their wings
a little more strenuously to mount over the snowy summits of the
Pyrenees; but they only commence ascending to this higher elevation when
near the mountains.  The ridge at Bagneres chances to lie in the line of
their flight--of course, not of all of them, but such as may be sweeping
along in that particular meridian; and, passing between the tall trees
already mentioned, they get caught in the meshes of the nets.  The
moment they strike these--several of them coming "butt" against one at
the same instant,--a trigger is pulled by the men--who are below
concealed under screens--and this trigger, acting on a string, causes
the net to drop, with the fluttering victims safely secured in its
meshes.

When the flight has passed, the women, girls, boys, and even the
children, rush forth from their hiding-places; and, seizing the
struggling birds, put a quick termination to their fruitless efforts, by
biting each of them in the neck.  Old, half-toothless crones--for this
is especially their part of the performance--will be seen thus giving
the final _coup_ to the beautiful but unfortunate wanderers!

And still we have not explained what the boys are doing up yonder.
Well, we shall now announce their _metier_.  Each has taken up with him
a number of little billets of wood, fashioned something like the letter
T, and about six inches in length.  When this billet is flung into the
air, and twirls about in its descent, it exhibits some resemblance--
though not a very close one--to a flying pigeon-hawk.  The resemblance,
however, is near enough to "do" the pigeons; for when they are within
about one hundred yards of the crows' nest, the boy launches his billet
into the air, and the birds, believing it to be a hawk, immediately dip
several yards in their flight--as they may be seen to do when a real
hawk makes his appearance.  This descent usually brings them low enough
to pass between the trees; and of course the old women soon get their
teeth upon them.

The pigeon-catching is not free to every one who may take a "fancy" to
it.  There are pigeon-catchers by trade; who, with their families,
follow it as a regular calling during the season, while it lasts; and
this, as already stated, is in the months of September and October.  The
_Palombiere_, or pigeon-ridge, belongs to the communal authorities, who
let it out in sections to the people that follow the calling of
pigeon-netting; and these, in their turn, dispose of the produce of
their nets in the markets of Bagneres and other neighbouring towns.

Every one knows how excellent for the table is the flesh of this
beautiful bird: so much is it esteemed, that even at Bagneres, in the
season of their greatest plenty, a pair will fetch a market price of
from twelve to twenty sous.



CHAPTER NINETEEN.

THE PYRENEES.

Speaking geologically, the Pyrenees extend along the whole north of
Spain, from the Mediterranean to the province of Galicia on the
Atlantic; and in this sense the chain may be regarded as between six and
seven hundred miles in length.

More properly, however, the term "Pyrenees" is limited to that portion
of the range which lies directly between France and Spain; in other
words, along the neck or isthmus of the Spanish peninsula.  Thus
limited, the range is less than half the above length, or about three
hundred miles; while its average breadth is fifty.

Though less elevated than the Alps, the Pyrenees mountains are no
molehills.  Their highest peak, Maladetta, towers above 11,000 feet; and
several others are of nearly equal height--while more than forty summits
reach the elevation of 9,000!

The most elevated peaks are near the centre of the Pyrenees, the range
gradually dipping downward as the extremities are approached.  For this
reason the most practicable passes are found near the eastern and
western ends; though many also exist in the central part of the chain.
In all, there are fifty passes or "ports," as they are called, leading
from the French to the Spanish side; but only five of these are
practicable for wheeled vehicles; and a large number are only known (or
at all events only travelled) by the smugglers--_contrabandistas_--a
class of gentry who swarm on both sides of the Pyrenean frontier.

The superficial extent of these mountains is about 11,000 or 12,000
square miles.  Part of this is French, and the remainder Spanish
territory.  As a general rule, the "divide," or main axis of the ridge
forms the boundary line; but in the eastern section, the French
territory has been extended beyond the natural frontier.

The geological formation of the Pyrenees consists both of primitive and
secondary rocks--the latter being greater in mass, and composed of
argillaceous schist, grauwacke (schistose and common), and limestone.
Mines of lead, iron, and copper are found in this formation--the lead
containing a proportion of silver.  The primitive rocks are granite; and
run in zones or belts, extended lengthwise in the direction of the
chain; and it is in the rupture between these and the transition strata,
that the chemical springs, for which the Pyrenees are so famous, gush
forth.  Of these remarkable fountains--many of them almost at boiling
heat--no less than 253 have been discovered in different parts of the
range.  A great number of them are celebrated for their medicinal
virtues, and are the favourite summer resorts of invalids, as well as
the votaries of pleasure, from all parts of the world--but more
especially from France and Spain.

The botany of the Pyrenees is full of interest.  It may be regarded as
an epitome of the whole European _flora_: since scarcely a plant exists,
from the Mediterranean to the Arctic sea, that has not a representative
species in some part of this mountain chain.  In the valleys and lower
slopes of the mountains the forest is chiefly composed of Lombardy
poplars and sycamores; a little higher, the Spanish chestnut, oaks,
hazels, and alders, the mountain ash and birch trees abound; and still
farther up you enter the region of the pines--the _pinus sylvestris_
growing in dense continuous forests, while the more graceful "stone
pine" is seen only in isolated groups or scattered trees.  Everywhere a
rich _flora_ meets the eye; flowers of the most lovely hues reflected in
crystal rivulets--for the waters of the Pyrenees are pure beyond
comparison, such a thing as a turbid stream being unknown throughout the
whole range.

Above the pine forests the mountains exhibit a zone of naked
declivities, stretching upward to the line of congelation--which in the
Pyrenees is higher than upon the Alps.  The former has been variously
estimated: some fixing it at 8,300 feet, while others raise it as high
as 9,000; but, indeed, it would be more just to say that the snow-line
depends greatly upon the locality of the particular mountain, and its
southern or northern exposure.

In any case, it is more than 1,000 feet higher than on the Alps; the
superior elevation being accounted for, by the more southern latitude of
the Franco-Spanish chain.  Perhaps the proximity of the sea has more to
do with this phenomenon than the trifling difference of latitude?

Upon the higher declivities and summits, snowfields and glaciers abound,
as in the Alps; and even in some of the passes these phenomena are
encountered.  Most of the passes are higher than those of the Alps; but
in consequence of the greater elevation of the snow-line, they remain
open throughout the winter.  At all seasons, however, they are by no
means easy to traverse; and the cold winds that whistle through them are
scarce to be endured.  The Spaniards, who have a proverbial expression
for almost every idea, have not neglected this one.  In the ports
(_puertos_) of the Pyrenees, say they, "the father waits not for his
son, nor the son for his father."

If the passes across these mountains are higher than those of the Alps,
the transverse valleys are the reverse; those of the Pyrenees being in
general much lower.  The consequence is, that from the bottom of these
valleys the mountains themselves appear far loftier than any of the
Alpine peaks,--the eye taking in at one view a greater angle of
elevation.

The _fauna_ of the Pyrenean chain, though less full and varied than its
_flora_, is nevertheless of great interest.  In the more densely wooded
solitudes, and higher declivities of the mountains, a large bear is
found, whose light fulvous-coloured body and black paws pronounce him a
different animal from the _ursus arctos_.  If he be the same species, as
naturalists assert, he claims at least to be a permanent variety, and
deserves his distinctive appellation of _ursus pyrenaicus_.

Wolves abound; Spanish wolves, long famed for their fierceness; the
common whitish-brown wolf (_canis lupus_), and a darker and still larger
variety--in short, a black wolf, designated the "wolf of the Pyrenees,"
though it is equally a denizen of the other mountain _sierras_ of
Portugal and Spain.

The European lynx (_felis lynx_), and the wild cat, both skulk through
the Pyrenean forests; the former now only rarely seen.  Along the naked
cliffs leaps the "izzard," which is identical with the chamois of the
Alps (_antelope rupicapra_); and in the same localities, but more rarely
seen, the "bouquetin," or "tur" (_aigocerus pyrenaicus_)--a species of
ibex, _not_ identical with the _capra ibex_ of Linnaeus and the Alpine
mountains.

Birds of many European species frequent the lower forests of the
Pyrenees, or fill the sheltered valleys with their vocal music; while,
soaring above the mountain summits, may be seen the great vulture-eagle,
or "lammergeyer," watching with greedy eye the feeble lambkin, or the
new-born kid of the ibex and izzard.

With such knowledge of their natural history, it was with feelings of no
ordinary interest that our young hunters turned their faces towards that
vast serried rampart that separates the land of the Gaul from the
country of the Iberian.

It was by the Val d'Ossau, literally the "valley of the bear," that they
made their approach to the mountains,--that valley celebrated as the
residence and hunting-ground of Henri of Navarre: but now, in modern
days, noted for its valuable thermal springs of _Eaux Bonnes_ and _Eaux
Chaudes_.

Up this mountain gorge went our heroes, their faces turned southward,
and their eyes carried high up to the Pic du Midi d'Ossau--the mountain
of the bears--an appropriate name for that beacon which was now
directing their course.



CHAPTER TWENTY.

AN ODD AVALANCHE.

It is needless to say that the young Russians were delighted with the
scenes that met their eyes in this fair southern land; and many of them
are found faithfully described in their journal.  They noted the
picturesque dresses of the Pyrenean peasantry--so different from the
eternal blue blouse which they had met in northern and central France.
Here was worn the "barret," of scarlet or white, the rich brown jacket
and red sash of the peculiar costumes of the Basque and Bearnais
peasants--a fine race of men, and one, too, historically noble.  They
saw carts drawn by large limbed cream-coloured oxen; and passed flocks
of sheep and milch goats, tended by shepherds in picturesque dresses,
and guarded by numbers of large Pyrenean dogs, whose chief duty was to
protect their charge from the wolves.  They saw men standing knee-deep
in the water, surrounded by droves of pigs--the latter voluntarily
submitting themselves to a process of washing, which resulted in
producing over their skins a roseate, pinky appearance.  It could be
seen, too, that these _pachyderms_ not only submitted voluntarily to the
operation, but with a keen sense of enjoyment, as evinced by their
contented grunts, and by their long tails, hanging "kinkless" while the
large calabashes of water were poured over their backs.  Perhaps to this
careful management of the Pyrenean pigs are the beautiful "Bayonne hams"
indebted for their celebrity.

Further on, our travellers passed a _plumire_, or "hen-bath."  Here was
a tank--another thermal spring--in which the water was something more
than "tepid."  In fact, it was almost on the boil; and yet in this tank
a number of women were ducking their hens--not, as might be supposed,
dead ones, in order to scald off their feathers, but live fowls, to rid
them, as they said, of parasitical insects, and make them feel more
comfortable!  As the water was almost hot enough to _parboil_ the poor
birds, and as the women held them in it immersed to the necks, the
_comfort_ of the thing--so thought our travellers--was rather a doubtful
question.

A little further on, another "custom" of the French Pyrenees came under
the eyes of the party.  Their ears were assailed by a singular medley of
sounds, that rose from a little valley near the side of the road.  On
looking into the valley, they saw a crowd of forty or fifty women, all
engaged in the same operation, which was that of flax-hackling.  They
learnt from this that; in the Pyrenean countries the women are the
hacklers of flax; and that, instead of each staying at her own home to
perform the operation, a large number of them meet together in some
shaded spot, bringing their unhackled flax along with them; and there,
amidst jesting and laughing and singing, the rough staple is reduced to
its shining and silky fineness.

Still another curious custom was observed; but this was further on, and
higher up the sides of the mountains.  Their observation of it was
attended with some degree of danger, and therefore came very close on
being an "adventure."  For this reason it found a place among the events
recorded in their journal.

It should be remarked, that all three were mounted--Alexis and Ivan upon
stout, active ponies, of that race for which the Pyrenees,--especially
the western section of them,--are celebrated.  Pouchskin's mount was not
of the genus _equus_, nor yet an _asinus_, but a hybrid of both
genera,--in short, a mule.

It was a French mule, and a very large one: for it required a good-sized
quadruped of the kind to make an appropriate roadster for the
ex-grenadier of the Imperial guard.  It was not a very fat mule,
however, but raw-boned and gaunt as a Pyrenean wolf.

Of course these animals were all hired ones--obtained at Eaux Bonnes,
and engaged for the trip across the Pyrenees to the Spanish side--as
also to be used in any deviations that the hunters should think proper
to make, while engaged in the pursuit of the bear.

From the nearest village on the Spanish side, the animals were to be
sent back to their owner; for it was not the intention of our travellers
to return to the French territory.

Having crossed the mountains, and accomplishing the object for which
they had visited them, their course would then be continued southward,
through Spain.

Along with them--also mounted on muleback--was a fourth individual,
whose services they had secured.  His _metier_ was manifold--on this
occasion combining in his single person at least three purposes.  First,
he was to serve them as guide; secondly, he was to bring back the hired
horses; and, thirdly, he was to aid them in the "chasse" of the bear:
for it so happened that this man-of-all-work was one of the most noted
"izzard-hunters" of the Pyrenees.  It is scarcely correct to say it
_happened_ so.  Rather was it a thing of design than chance; for it was
on account of his fame as a hunter, that he had been engaged for the
triple duty he was now called upon to fulfil.

The four travellers, then, all mounted as we have described, were
ascending a very steep declivity.  They had left the last hamlet--and
even the last house--behind them; and were now climbing one of the
outlying spurs that project many miles from the main axis of the
mountains.  The road they were following scarcely deserved the name;
being a pack-road, or mere bridle-path; and so sleep was the ascent,
that it was necessary to zigzag nearly a dozen times, before the summit
of the ridge could be attained.

While entering upon this path, and near the base of the ridge, they had
noticed the forms of men far above them, moving about the summit, as if
engaged in some work.  Their guide told them that these men were
faggot-cutters, whose business was to procure firewood for the towns in
the valley.

There was nothing in this bit of information to produce astonishment.
What _did_ astonish our travellers, however, was the mode in which these
men transported their firewood down the mountain, of which, shortly
after, they were treated to an exhibition.  As they were zigzagging up
the mountain-path, their ears were all at once saluted by a noise that
resembled a crashing of stones, mingled with a crackling of sticks.  The
noise appeared to proceed from above; and, on looking up, they beheld a
number of dark objects coming in full rush down the declivity.  These
objects were of rounded form--in fact, they were bundles of faggots--and
so rapidly did they roll over, and make way down the mountain, that had
our travellers chanced to be in their track, they might have found some
difficulty in getting out of the way.  Such was their reflection at the
moment; and they were even thanking their stars that they had escaped
the danger, when all at once a fresh avalanche of faggots was launched
from above; and these were evidently bounding straight towards the
party!  It was impossible to tell which way to go--whether to rush
forward or draw back: for what with the inequality of the mountain-side,
and the irregular rolling of the bundles, they could not tell the exact
direction they would take.  All therefore drew up, and waited the result
in silent apprehension.  Of course they had not long to wait--scarce a
second--for the huge bundles bounding on, each moment with increased
impetus, came down with the suddenness of a thunderclap; and before the
words "Jack Robinson" could have been pronounced, they went whizzing
past with the velocity of aerolites, and with such a force, that had one
of them struck either mule or pony it would have hurled both the
quadruped and its rider to the bottom of the mountain.  It was only
their good fortune that saved them: for in such a place it would have
been impossible for the most adroit equestrian to have got out of the
way.  The path was not the two breadths of a horse; and to have wheeled
round, or even drawn back upon it, would have been a risk of itself.

They rode on, again congratulating themselves on their escape; but fancy
their consternation when they found themselves once more, and for the
third time, exposed to the very same danger!  Again came a set of
bundles rolling and tearing down the slope, the billets rattling and
crackling as they rolled; again they went swishing by; again, by the
merest accident, did they miss the travellers, as they stood upon the
path.

Now, it might be supposed that the faggots were being launched all along
the ridge of the hill; and that, go which way they might, our party
would still be exposed to the danger.  Not so.  The bundles were all
rolled down at one particular place--where the slope was most favourable
for this purpose--but it was the zigzag path, which every now and then
obliqued across the line of the wood-avalanche, that had thus repeatedly
placed them in peril.

As they had yet to "quarter" the declivity several times before they
could reach the summit, they were more careful about approaching the
line of descent; and whenever they drew near it, they put their ponies
and mules to as good a speed as they could take out of them.

Though all four succeeded in reaching the summit in safety, it did not
hinder Pouchskin from pouring out his vial of wrath on the heads of the
offending woodcutters; and if they could have only understood his
Russian, they would have heard themselves called by a good many hard
names, and threatened with a second pursuit of Moscow.  "Frog-eating
Frenchmen!" was the very mildest title which the ex-guardsman bestowed
upon them; but as his Russian was not translated, of course the phrase
fell harmless--else it would have undoubtedly been retaliated by a taunt
about "tallow."

The "izzard-hunter" swore at them to more purpose; for he, too, having
undergone equal risk with the rest of the party, had equally good
reasons for being angry; and giving utterance to a long string of
execrations with all the volubility of a Bearnais, he further threatened
them with the terrors of the law.

As the woodcutters, slightly stupefied by this unexpected attack,
submitted with tolerable grace, and said nothing in reply, the
izzard-hunter at length cooled down, and the party proceeded on their
way; Pouchskin, as he rode off, shaking his clenched fist at the staring
log-choppers, and hissing out in angry aspirate another Russian
shibboleth, which neither could nor should be translated.



CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

A MEETING WITH MULETEERS.

A little beyond the scene of their encounter with the woodcutters, the
path entered among the gorges of the mountains, and the level plains of
France were for a time lost to their view.  The route they were
following was a mere bridle-track, quite impracticable for carriages,
but leading to one of the "ports" already mentioned, by which they could
pass through to the Spanish side.  Through this port a considerable
traffic is carried on between the two countries--most of the carrying
being done by Spanish muleteers, who cross the mountains conducting
large trains of mules--all, except those upon which they themselves
ride, laden with packs and bales of merchandise.

That such a traffic was carried over this route, our Russian travellers
needed no other evidence than what came under their own eyes; for
shortly after, on rounding a point of rock, they saw before them a large
drove of mules, gaily caparisoned with red cloth and stamped leather,
and each carrying its pack.  The gang had halted on a platform of no
great breadth; and the drivers--about a dozen men in all--were seen
seated upon the rocks, a little way in advance of the animals.  Each
wore a capacious cloak of brown cloth--a favourite colour among the
Pyrenean Spaniards; and what with their swarthy complexions, bearded
lips, and wild attire, it would have been pardonable enough to have
mistaken them for a band of brigands, or, at all events, a party of
_contrabandistas_.

They were neither one nor the other, however; but honest Spanish
muleteers, on their way to a French market, with commodities produced on
the southern side of the mountains.

As our travellers came up, they were in the act of discussing a
luncheon, which consisted simply of black bread, tough goat's-milk
cheese, and thin Malaga wine--the last carried in a skin bag, out of
which each individual drank in his turn, simply holding up the bag and
pouring the wine by a small jet down his throat.

They were good-humoured fellows, and invited our travellers to taste
their wine; which invitation it would have been ill-mannered to refuse.
Ivan and Alexis emptied some out into their silver cups--which they
carried slung conveniently to their belts; but Pouchskin not having his
can so ready, essayed to drink the wine after the fashion of the
muleteers.  But the goat-skin bag, clumsily manipulated in the hands of
the old guardsman, instead of sending the stream into his mouth, jetted
it all over his face and into his eyes, blinding and half-choking him!
As he stood in his stultified attitude, wine-skin in hand, the precious
fluid running down his nose, and dripping from the tips of his grand
mustachios, he presented a picture that caused the muleteers to laugh
till the tears ran down their cheeks; shouting out their _bravos_ and
other exclamations, as if they were applauding some exquisite piece of
performance in a theatre.

Pouchskin took it all in good part, and the muleteers pressed him to try
again; but, not caring to expose himself to a fresh burst of ridicule,
the old grenadier borrowed the cup of one of his young masters; and by
the help of this managed matters a little more to his mind.  As the wine
tasted good to the old soldier's palate, and as the hospitable muleteers
invited him to drink as much as he pleased, it was not until the
goat-skin bag exhibited symptoms of collapse, that he returned it to its
owners.

Perhaps had Pouchskin not indulged so freely in the seducing Malaga
tipple, he might have avoided a very perilous adventure which befell him
almost on the instant, and which we shall now relate.

Our travellers, after exchanging some further civilities with the
muleteers, had once more mounted, and were about proceeding on their
way.  Pouchskin, riding his great French jennet, had started in the
advance.  Just in front of him, however, the pack mules were standing in
a cluster--not only blocking up the path, but barring the way on both
sides--so that to get beyond them it would be necessary to pass through
their midst.  The animals all seemed tranquil enough--some picking at
the bushes that were within their reach, but most of them standing
perfectly still, occasionally shaking their long ears, or changing one
leg to throw the weight upon another.  Pouchskin saw that it was
necessary to pass among them; and, probably, had he squeezed quietly
through, they might have remained still, and taken no notice of him.
But, elated with the wine he had drunk, the ex-grenadier, instead of
following this moderate course, drove his spurs into his great French
hybrid, and with a loud charging yell--such as might have issued from
the throat of a Cossack--he dashed right into the midst of the drove.

Whether it was because the animal he bestrode was French, or whether
something in Pouchskin's voice had sounded ill in their ears, it is not
possible to say, but all, at once the whole Spanish _mulada_ was
perceived to be in motion--each individual mule rushing towards
Pouchskin with pricked ears, open mouth, and tail elevated in the air!
It was too late for him to hear the cry of the izzard-hunter,
"_prenez-garde_!" or the synonym, "_guarda te_!" of the muleteers.  He
may have heard both these cautionary exclamations, but they reached him
too late to be of any service to him: for before he could have counted
six, at least twice that number of mules had closed round him, and with
a simultaneous scream commenced snapping and biting at both him and his
French roadster with all the fury of famished wolves!  In vain did the
stalwart jennet defend itself with its shod hoofs, in vain did its rider
lay round him with his whip: for not only did the Spanish mules assail
him with their teeth, but, turning tail as well, they sent their heels
whistling around his head, and now and then thumping against his legs,
until his leather boots and breeches cracked under their kicks!

Of course the muleteers, on perceiving Pouchskin's dilemma, had rushed
instantaneously to the rescue; and with loud cries and cracking of their
whips--as muleteers alone can crack them--were endeavouring to beat off
the assailants.  But, with all their exertions, backed by their
authority over the animals, Pouchskin might have fared badly enough, had
not an opportunity offered for extricating himself.  His animal, fleeing
from the persecution of its Spanish enemies, had rushed in among some
boulders of rock.  Thither it was hotly pursued; and Pouchskin would
again have been overtaken, had he not made a very skilful and extensive
leap out of the saddle, and landed himself on a ledge of rock.  From
this he was able to clamber still higher, until he had reached a point
that entirely cleared him of the danger.

The French jennet, however, had still to sustain the attack of the
infuriated mules; but, now that it was relieved from the encumbrance of
its heavy rider, it gained fresh confidence in its long legs; and making
a dash through the midst of the _mulada_, it struck off up the
mountain-path, and galloped clear out of sight.  The mules, encumbered
with their packs, did not show any inclination to follow, and the drama
was thus brought to a termination.

The woe-begone look of the old guardsman, as he stood perched upon the
high pinnacle of rock, was again too much for the muleteers; and one and
all of them gave utterance to fresh peals of laughter.  His young
masters were too much concerned about their faithful Pouchskin to give
way to mirth; but on ascertaining that he had only received a few
insignificant bruises,--thanks to the Spanish mules not being shod,--
they, too, were very much disposed to have a laugh at his expense.
Alexis was of opinion that their follower had made rather free with the
wine-skin; and therefore regarded the chastisement rather in the light
of a just retribution.

It cost the izzard-hunter a chase before Pouchskin's runaway could be
recovered; but the capture of the jennet was at length effected; and,
all things being set to-rights, a parting salute was once more exchanged
with the muleteers, and the travellers proceeded on their way.



CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

THE PYRENEAN BEARS.

It was well they had the izzard-hunter for a guide, for without him they
might have searched a long time without finding a bear.  These animals,
although plenteous enough in the Pyrenees some half-century ago, are now
only to be met with in the most remote and solitary places.  Such
forest-tracts, as lie well into the interior gorges of the mountains,
and where the lumberer's axe never sounds in his ears, are the winter
haunts of the Pyrenean bear; while in summer he roams to a higher
elevation--along the lower edge of the snowfields and glaciers, where he
finds the roots and bulbs of many Alpine plants, and even lichens,
congenial to his taste.  He sometimes steals into the lower valleys,
where these are but sparsely cultivated; and gathers a meal of young
maize, or potatoes, where such are grown.  Of truffles he is as fond as
a Parisian sybarite,--scenting them with a keenness far excelling that
of the regular truffle dog, and "rooting" them out from under the shade
of the great oak trees, where these rare delicacies are inexplicably
produced.

Like his near congener, the brown bear, he is frugivorous; and, like
most other members of their common family, he possesses a sweet tooth,
and will rob bees of their honey whenever he can find a hive.  He is
carnivorous at times, and not unfrequently makes havoc among the flocks
that in summer are fed far up on the declivities of the mountains; but
it has been observed by the shepherds, that only odd individuals are
given to this sanguinary practice, and, as a general rule, the bear will
not molest their sheep.  On this account, a belief exists among the
mountaineers that there are two kinds of bears in the Pyrenees; one, an
eater of fruits, roots, and _larvae_,--the other, of more carnivorous
habits, that eats flesh, and preys upon such animals as he can catch.
The latter they allege to be larger, of more fierce disposition, and
when assailed, caring not to avoid an encounter with man.  The facts may
be true, but the deduction erroneous.  The izzard-hunter's opinion was
that the Pyrenean bears were all of one species; and that, if there were
two kinds, one was a younger and more unsophisticated sort, the other a
bear whom greater age has rendered more savage in disposition.  The same
remark will apply to the Pyrenean bear that is true of the _ursus
arctos_,--viz., having once eaten flesh, he acquires a taste for it; and
to gratify this, of course the fiercest passions of his nature are
called into play.  Hunger may have driven him to his first meal of
flesh-meat; and afterwards he seeks it from choice.

The izzard-hunter's father remembered when bears were common enough in
the lower valleys; and then not only did the flocks of sheep and goats
suffer severely, but the larger kinds of cattle were often dragged down
by the ravenous brutes--even men lost their lives in encounters with
them!  In modern times, such occurrences were rare, as the bears kept
high up the mountains, where cattle were never taken, and where men went
very seldom.  The hunter stated, that the bears were much sought after
by hunters like himself, as their skins were greatly prized, and fetched
a good price; that the young bears were also very valuable, and to
capture a den, of cubs was esteemed a bit of rare good luck: since these
were brought up to be used in the sports of bear-baiting and
bear-dancing, spectacles greatly relished in the frontier towns of
France.

He knew of no particular mode for taking bears.  Their chase was too
precarious to make it worth while; and they were only encountered
accidentally by the izzard-hunters, when in pursuit of their own regular
game.  Then they were killed by being shot, if old ones; and if young,
they captured them by the aid of their dogs.

"So scarce are they," added the hunter, "that I have killed only three
this whole season; but I know where there's a fourth--a fine fellow too;
and if you feel inclined--"

The young Russians understood the hint.  Money is all-powerful
everywhere; and a gold coin will conduct to the den of a Pyrenean bear,
where the keenest-scented hound or the sharpest-sighted hunter would
fail to find it.  In an instant almost, the bargain was made.  Ten
dollars for the haunt of the bear!

The _Pic du Midi d'Ossau_ was now in sight; and, leaving the beaten path
that passed near its base, our hunters turned off up a lateral ravine.
The sides and bottom of this ravine were covered with a stunted growth
of pine-trees; but as they advanced further into it, the trees assumed
greater dimensions--until at length they were riding through a tall and
stately forest.  It was, to all _appearance_, as wild and primitive as
if it had been on the banks of the Amazon or amid the Cordilleras of the
Andes.  Neither track nor trail was seen--only the paths made by wild
beasts, or such small rodent animals as had their home there.

The izzard-hunter said that he had killed lynxes in this forest; and at
night he would not care to be alone in it, as it was a favourite haunt
of the black wolves.  With, such company, however, he had no fear: as
they could kindle fires and keep the wolves at bay.

The neighbourhood, in which he expected to find the bear, was more than
two miles from the place where they had entered the forest.  He knew the
exact spot where the animal was at that moment lying--that is, he knew
its cave.  He had seen it only a few days before going into this cave;
but as he had no dogs with him, and no means of getting the bear out, he
had only marked the place, intending to return, with a comrade to help
him.  Some business had kept him at Eaux Bonnes, till the arrival of the
strangers; and learning their intentions, he had reserved the prize for
them.  He had now brought his dogs--two great creatures they were,
evidently of lupine descent--and with these Bruin might be baited till
he should come forth from his cave.  But that plan was only to be tried
as a last resource.  The better way would be to wait till the bear
started out on his midnight ramble,--a thing he would be sure to do,--
then close up the mouth of the cave, and lie in ambush for his return.
He would "not come home till morning," said the izzard-hunter; and they
would have light to take aim, and fire at him from their different
stations.

It seemed a feasible plan, and as our adventurers now placed themselves
in the hands of the native hunter, it was decided they should halt where
they were, kindle a fire, and make themselves as comfortable as they
could, until the hour when Bruin might be expected to go out upon his
midnight prowl.

A roaring fire was kindled; and Pouchskin's capacious haversack being
turned inside out, all four were soon enjoying their dinner-supper with
that zest well-known to those who have ridden twenty miles up a steep
mountain-road.



CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

THE IZZARD-HUNTER.

They passed the time pleasantly enough, listening to the stories of the
izzard-hunter, who related to them much of the lore current among the
peasantry of the mountains--tales of the chase, and of the contraband
trade carried on between Spain and France, besides many anecdotes about
the Peninsular war, when the French and English armies were campaigning
in the Pyrenees.  In this conversation Pouchskin took part: for nothing
was of greater interest to the old soldier than _souvenirs_ of those
grand times, when Pouchskin entered Paris.  The conversation of the
izzard-hunter related chiefly to his own calling, and upon this theme he
was enthusiastic.  He told them of all the curious habits of the izzard;
and among others that of its using its hooked horns to let itself down
from the cliffs--a fancy which is equally in vogue among the chamois
hunters of the Alps, but which Alexis did not believe, although he did
not say so--not wishing to throw a doubt on the veracity of their guide.
The latter, however, when closely questioned upon the point, admitted
that he had never himself been an eye-witness of this little bit of goat
gymnastics; he had only heard of it from other hunters, who said they
had seen it; and similar, no doubt, would be the answer of every one who
spoke the truth about this alleged habit of the chamois.  The fact is,
that this active creature needs no help from its horns.  Its hoofs are
sufficient to carry it along the very narrowest ledges; and the immense
leaps it can take either upward or downward, can be compared to nothing
but the flight of some creature furnished with wings.  Its hoof, too, is
sure, as its eye is unerring.  The chamois never slips upon the
smoothest rocks--any more than would a squirrel upon the branch of a
tree.

Our travellers questioned the izzard-hunter about the profits of his
calling.  They were surprised to find that the emolument was so
trifling.  For the carcass of an izzard he received only ten francs; and
for the skins two or three more!  The flesh or venison was chiefly
purchased by the landlords of the hotels--of which there are hundreds at
the different watering-places on the French side of the Pyrenees.  The
visitors were fond of izzard, and called for it at the table.  Perhaps
they did not relish it so much as they pretended to do; but coming from
great cities, and places where they never saw a chamois, they wished to
be able to say they had eaten of its flesh.  In this conjecture the
izzard-hunter was, perhaps, not far out.  A considerable quantity of
game of other kinds is masticated from a like motive.

It was suggested by Ivan, that, with such a demand for the flesh, the
izzard should fetch a better price.  Ten francs was nothing?

"Ah!" replied the hunter with a sigh, "that is easily explained,
monsieur!  The hotel-keepers are too cunning, both for us and their
guests.  If we were to charge more, they would not take it off our
hands."

"But they would be under the necessity of having it, since their guests
call for it."

"So they do; and if there were no _goats_, our izzard-venison would sell
at a higher price."

"How?" demanded Ivan, puzzled to make out the connection between goats
and izzard-venison.

"Goats and izzards are too much alike, monsieur--that is, after being
skinned and cut up.  The hotel-keeper knows this, and often makes
`Nanny' do duty for izzard.  Many a hotel traveller at Eaux Bonnes may
be heard praising our izzard's flesh, when it is only a quarter of young
kid he's been dining upon.  Ha! ha! ha!"

And the hunter laughed at the cheat--though he well knew that its
practice seriously affected the income of his own calling.

But, indeed, if the truth had been told, the man followed the chase far
less from a belief in its being a remunerative profession, than from an
innate love for the hunter's life.  So enthusiastic was he upon the
theme, that it was easy to see he would not have exchanged his calling
for any other--even had the change promised him a fortune!  It is so
with professional hunters in all parts of the world, who submit to
hardships, and often the greatest privations, for that still sweeter
privilege of roaming the woods and wilds at will, and being free from
the cares and trammels that too often attach themselves to social life.

Conversing on such topics, the party sat around the bivouac fire until
after sunset, when their guide admonished them that they would do well
to take a few hours of sleep.  There was no necessity for going after
the bear until a very late hour--that is, until near morning--for then
the beast would be most likely to be abroad.  If they went too soon, and
found him still in his cave, it was not so certain that even the dogs
could prevail on him to turn out.  It might be a large cavern.  He might
give battle to the dogs inside; and big as they were, they would be
worsted in an encounter of that sort: since a single blow from the paw
of a bear is sufficient to silence the noisiest individual of the canine
kind.  The dogs--as the hunter again repeated--should only be used as a
last resource.  The other plan promised better; as the bear, once shut
out of his cave, would be compelled to take to the woods.  The dogs
could then follow him up by the fresh scent; and unless he should
succeed in finding some other cavern in which to ensconce himself, they
might count upon coming up with him.  It was not uncommon for the
Pyrenean bear, when pursued by dogs and men, to take to a tree; and this
would be all that their hearts could desire: since in a tree the bear
would be easily reached by the bullets of their guns.  Besides, they
might have a chance, when he returned to his closed cave, to shoot him
down at once; and that would end the matter without further trouble.

It was not necessary to go to the cave until near morning--just early
enough to give them time to close up the entrance, and set themselves in
ambush before day broke.  On this account the guide recommended them to
take some sleep.  He would answer for it that they should be waked up in
time.

This advice was cheerfully accepted and followed.  Even Pouchskin
required repose, after the rough handling he had received at the mouths
of the mules; and he was now quite as ready as his young masters to wrap
himself up in his ample grenadier great-coat, and surrender himself into
the arms of the Pyrenean Morpheus.



CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.

THE AMBUSCADE.

True to his promise, the izzard-hunter awoke them about an hour before
dawn; and having saddled and bridled their animals, they mounted and
rode off.  Among the great tree trunks it was very dark; but the hunter
knew the ground; and, after groping along for half a mile farther, and
somewhat slowly, they arrived at the base of a cliff.  Keeping along
this for some distance farther, they came at length to the place of
their destination--the mouth of the cave.  Even through the gloom, they
could see a darker spot upon the face of the rock, which indicated the
entrance.  It was of no great size--about large enough to admit the body
of a man in a stooping attitude--but the hunter was under the impression
that it widened inward, and led to a grand cavern.  He drew his
inference, not from having ever explored this particular cave, but from
knowing that there were many others of a similar kind in that part of
the mountains, where the limestone formation was favourable to such
cavities.  Had it been only a hole just big enough for the den of a
bear, he would have acted very differently--then there would have been a
hope of drawing Bruin out with the dogs; but if the place was an actual
cavern, where the beast might range freely about, she hunter knew there
would be no chance of getting him out.  Their presence outside once
suspected, the bear might remain for days within his secure fortress;
and a siege would have to be laid, which would be a tedious affair, and
might prove fruitless in the end.

For this reason, great caution had been observed as they drew near the
cave.  They feared that they might come upon the bear, by chance
wandering about in the woods,--that he might hear them, and, taking the
alarm, scamper back to his cavern.

Acting under this apprehension, they had left their animals a good way
off--having tied them to the trees--and had approached the cave on foot,
without making the slightest noise, and talking to each other only in
whispers.

The izzard-hunter now proceeded to put his designs into execution.
While the others had been sleeping, he had prepared a large torch, out
of dry splinters of the stone pine; and now quietly igniting this, set
it in the ground near the base of the cliff.  The moment the bright
flame illuminated the entrance to the cave, all stood with their guns in
hand ready to fire.  They were not sure that Bruin had gone out at all.
He might still be a-bed.  If so, the light of the torch might wake him
up and tempt him forth; therefore it was best to be prepared for such a
contingency.

The izzard-hunter now slipped his dogs, which up to this time he had
held securely in the leash.  As soon as they were free, the well-trained
animals, knowing what was expected of them, rushed right into the care.

For some seconds the dogs kept up a quick continuous yelping, and their
excited manner told that they at least scented a bear: but the question
to be determined was, whether the brute was still in his den.

The hunter had surmised correctly.  The aperture conducted to a real
cavern, and a very large one--as could be told by the distance at which
the yelping of the dogs was heard.  Out of such a place it would have
been hopeless to have thought of starting a bear--unless it should
please Bruin to make a voluntary exit.  It was, therefore, with no
little anxiety that the hunters listened to the "tongue" of the dogs, as
it echoed within the cavernous hollow.

They all knew that if the bear should prove to be inside, the dogs would
soon announce the fact by their barking, and other fierce sounds
characteristic of canine strife.

They were not kept long in suspense; for, after an interval of less than
a minute, both dogs came running out, with that air of disappointment
that told of their having made an idle exploration.

Thei

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