Alexis was greatly interested by the appearance of this beautiful tree; but it was too late when they arrived on the ground for him to have an opportunity of examining it. The half-hour before darkness had been occupied in the construction of the hut—in which all hands had borne part.

Early in the morning, Alexis—still curious about the arenga-trees—and desirous of ascertaining to what genus of palms they belonged—strayed off among them, in hopes of procuring a flower. The others remained by the hut, preparing breakfast.

Alexis saw none of the trees in flower, their great spathes being yet unfolded; but, toping to find some one more forward than the rest, he kept on for a considerable distance through the forest.

As he was walking leisurely along, his eyes at intervals turned upward to the fronds of the palms, he saw that one of the trunks directly in front of him was in motion. He stopped and listened. He heard a sound as of something in the act of being rent, just as if some one was plucking leaves from the trees. The sound proceeded from the one that was in motion; but it was only its trunk that he saw; and whatever was causing the noise and the movement appeared to be up among the great fronds at its crown.

Alexis regretted that he had left his gun behind him. He had no other weapon with him but his knife. Not that he was afraid: for the animal could not be an elephant in the top of a palm-tree, nor a rhinoceros; and these were the only quadrupeds that need be greatly dreaded in a Bornean forest: since the royal tiger, though common enough both in Java and Sumatra, is not an inhabitant of Borneo.

It was not fear that caused him to regret having left his gun behind him; but simply that he should lose the chance of shooting some animal— perhaps a rare one. That it was a large one he could tell by the movement of the tree: since no squirrel or small quadruped could have caused the stout trunk of the palm to vibrate in such a violent manner.

I need not say how the regret of the young hunter was increased, when he approached the tree, and looking up, saw what the animal really was—a bear, and that bear the true ursus malayanus! Yes, there was he, with his black body, yellowish muzzle, and white half-moon upon his breast— busy gorging himself upon the tender leaflets of the arenga—whose white fragments, constantly dropping from his jaws, strewed the ground at the bottom of the tree.

Alexis now remembered that this was a well-known habit of the Malayan bear—whose favourite food is the "cabbage" of palm-trees, and who often extends his depredations to the cocoa plantations, destroying hundreds of trees before he can be detected and destroyed himself. Of course this wild arenga wood—furnishing the bear with as much "cabbage" as he might require—was just the place for him; and Alexis now understood the reason why the Dyak had conducted them thither.

As the naturalist knew that this kind of bear was more rare than the other species—that is, in Borneo—he now more than ever felt chagrin at not having his gun with him. To attempt attacking the animal with his knife would have been absurd, as well as dangerous—for the Malayan bear can maintain a better fight than his Bornean brother.

But, indeed, even had Alexis desired it, there would have been no chance to reach the animal with his knife—unless the hunter should himself climb up the palm; and that was more than he either dared or could.

Of course the bear had long ere this perceived his enemy at the foot of the tree; and, uttering a series of low querulous cries, had desisted from his cabbage eating, and placed himself in an attitude of defence. It was evident from the position he had assumed, that he had no design of coming down, so long as the hunter remained at the bottom of the tree; nor did the latter desire him to do so. On the contrary, he struck the tree with a stick, and made several other demonstrations, with the design to hinder the bear from attempting a descent. But the animal did not even meditate such a thing. Though the palm was not one of the highest, it was tall enough to keep him out of the reach of any weapon the hunter could lay hands upon; and the bear, seemingly conscious of this fact, kept his perch with a confident air—that showed he had no intention of changing his secure position.

Alexis now began to reflect about what he should do. If he could make the others hear him, that would answer every purpose. Of course they would come up, bringing with them their guns. This was the most promising plan; and Alexis hastened to put it into execution, by hallooing at the top of his voice. But, after he had shouted for nearly ten minutes, and waited for ten more, no response was given; nor did any one make an appearance upon the ground.

Once more Alexis raised his voice, and shouted till the woods rang with echoes. But these echoes were all the reply he could get to his calls.

It was evident he had unconsciously strayed far from the camp, and quite out of earshot of his companions!

What was to be done? If he should go back to the others, to bring them and also his gun, the bear would in all probability seize the opportunity to descend from the tree and take himself off. In that case he would most certainly escape: since there would be no chance of tracking him through such a wood. On the other hand, Alexis need not remain where he was. He might stay there till doomsday, before Bruin would condescend to come down; and even should he do so, what chance would there be of effecting his capture?

While reflecting thus, a happy idea occurred to the young hunter; and he was seen all at once to step a pace or two back, and place himself behind the broad leaves of a wild pisang, where he was hidden from the eyes of the bear.

As the morning was a little raw he had his cloak around him; and this he instantly stripped off. He had already in his hands the stout long stick—with which he had been hammering upon the palm—and this he now sharpened at one end with his knife. On the other end he placed his cap, and beneath it his cloak, folding the latter around the stick, and tying it on in such a fashion as to make of it a rude representation of the human form.

When he had got the "dummy" rigged out to his satisfaction, he reached cautiously forward—still keeping the fronds of the pisang between himself and the bear. In this position, he held the "scarecrow" out at the full length of his arm; and, giving the stick a punch, set it erect in the ground. The bruang, from his elevated perch on the tree, could not fail to see the object—though the hunter himself was still concealed by the huge leaves that drooped over his head. Alexis, now cautiously, and without making the slightest noise, stole away from the spot. When he believed himself well out of hearing of the bear, he quickened his pace, and retraced his steps to the camp.

It was but the work of a minute for all hands to arm themselves and set out; and in ten minutes' time they arrived at the bottom of the arenga, and had the gratification of finding that the ruse of Alexis had proved successful.

The bruang was still crouching upon the crown of the palm; but he did not stay there much longer, for a volley fired at his white breast toppled him over from his perch; and he fell to the bottom of the tree as dead as a stone.

The Dyak was rather chagrined that he had not himself discovered the game; but, on ascertaining that he would receive the promised bounty all the same, he soon got the better of his regrets.

Our hunters being on the ground, were determined to make a day of it; and after breakfast continued their hunt—which resulted in their finding and killing, not only another bruang, but a rimau dahan, or "clouded tiger" (felis macrocelus): the most beautiful of all feline animals, and whose skin they intended should be one of the trophies to be mounted in the museum of the palace Grodonoff.

This hunt ended their adventures in the Oriental Archipelago; and from Sambos they proceeded direct through the straits of Malacca, and up the Bay of Bengal to the great city of Calcutta.



CHAPTER FIFTY NINE.

THE SLOTH BEAR.

En route for the grand mountains of Imaus—the stupendous chain of the Himalayas!

There our hunters expected to find no less than three species of bears— each distinct from the others in outline of form, in aspect, in certain habits, and even in habitat; for although all three exist in the Himalayas, each has its own zone of altitude, in which it ranges almost exclusively. These three bears are, the "sloth bear" (ursus labatus), the "Thibet bear" (ursus thibetanus), and the "snow bear" (ursus isabellinus).

The first-mentioned is the one which has received most notice—both from naturalists and travellers. It is that species which by certain wiseacres of the closet school was for a long time regarded as a sloth (bradypus). In redeeming it from this character, other systematists were not content to leave it where it really belongs—in the genus ursus—but must, forsooth, create a new one for its special accommodation; and it now figures in zoological catalogues as a prochilus—the prochilus labiatus! We shall reject this absurd title, and call it by its real one—ursus labiatus, which, literally translated, would mean the "lipped bear"—not a very specific appellation neither. The name has been given in reference to a peculiar characteristic of the animal—that is, its power of protruding or extending the lips to seize its food—in which peculiarity it resembles the tapir, giraffe, and some other animals. Its trivial name of "sloth bear" is more expressive: for certainly its peculiar aspect—caused by the long shaggy masses of hair which cover its neck and body—gives it a very striking resemblance to the sloth. Its long crescent-shaped claws strengthen this resemblance. A less distinctive name is that by which it is known to the French naturalists, "ours de jongleurs," or "juggler's bear." Its grotesque appearance makes it a great favourite with the Indian mountebanks; but, as many other species are also trained to dancing and monkey-tricks, the name is not characteristic.

This bear is not quite so large as the ursus arctos; though individuals are sometimes met with approaching the bulk of the latter. The fur is longer and "shaggier" than in any other species—being upon the back of the neck full twelve inches in length. In this mass of long hair there is a curious line of separation running transversely across the back of the neck. The front division falls forward over the crown, so as to overhang the eyes—thus imparting to the physiognomy of the animal a heavy, stupid appearance. The other portion flaps back, forming a thick mane or hunch upon the shoulders. In old individuals the hair becomes greatly elongated; and hanging down almost to the ground on both flanks, and along the neck, imparts to the animal the strange appearance of being without legs!

The general colour of the coat is black, with here and there a dash of brown over it. Upon the breast there is a white list of a triangular shape; and the muzzle is also a dirty yellowish white. There is no danger of mistaking this species for any other of the black Asiatic bears, or even any black bears. The long shaggy hair, hanging loosely, presents an appearance altogether different from the uniform brush-like surface, which characterises the coats of ursus malayanus, euryspilus, americanus, ornatus, and frugilegus.

Perhaps the most peculiar characteristic of the sloth bear is the capability it possesses of protruding the lips, which it can do to a length of several inches from its jaws—shooting them out in the form of a tube, evidently designed for suction. This, together with the long extensile tongue—which is flat shaped and square at the extremity— shows a peculiar design, answering to the habits of the animal. No doubt the extraordinary development of tongue is given to it for the same purpose as to the edentata of the ant-eating tribe—to enable it to "lick up" the termites.

Its great curved claws, which bear a very striking resemblance to those of the ant-eaters—especially the large tamanoir of South America—are used for the same purpose: that of breaking up the glutinous compost with which the termites construct their curious dwellings.

These insects constitute a portion of the sloth bear's "commissariat of subsistence;" but he will also eat fruits, and sweet succulent vegetables; and, it is scarce necessary to add, that he is "wild after" honey, and a regular robber of bee-hives.

Notwithstanding the comic role, which he is often taught to play in the hands of the jugglers, he not unfrequently enacts a little bit of tragedy. This occurs when in his wild or natural state. He is not disposed wantonly to make an attack upon human beings; and if left unmolested, he will go his way; but, when wounded or otherwise provoked, he can show fight to about the same degree as the black bear of America. The natives of India hold him in dread: but chiefly on account of the damage he occasions to their crops—especially to the plantations of sugar-cane.

We have stated that the sloth bear is not exclusively confined to the Himalayas. On the contrary, these mountains are only the northern limit of his range—which extends over the whole peninsula of Hindostan, and even beyond it, to the island of Ceylon. He is common in the Deccan, the country of the Mahrattas, Sylhet, and most probably throughout Transgangetic India. In the mountains that bound the province of Bengal to the east and west, and also along the foot-hills of the Himalayas of Nepaul on its north, the sloth bear is the most common representative of the Bruin family; but up into the higher ranges he does not extend his wanderings. His habitat proves that he affects a hot, rather than a cold climate—notwithstanding the great length of the fur upon his coat.

One peculiarity remains to be mentioned. Instead of hiding himself away in solitudes, remote from human habitations, he rather seeks the society of man: not that he is fond of the latter; but simply that he may avail himself of the results of human industry. For this purpose he always seeks his haunt near to some settlement—whence he may conveniently make his depredations upon the crops. He is not, strictly speaking, a forest animal. The low jungle is his abode; and his lair is a hole under some overhanging bank—either a natural cavity, or one which has been hollowed out by some burrowing animal.

Knowing that the sloth bear might be met with in any part of the country, to the northward of Calcutta, our hunters determined to keep a lookout for him while on their way to the Himalayas—which mountains they intended ascending, either through the little state of Sikkim, or the kingdom of Nepaul.

Their route from Calcutta to the hills lay a little to the west of north; and at many places on their journey they not only heard of the sloth bear, but were witnesses of the ravages which this destructive creature had committed on the crops of the farmers.

There were sugar plantations, on which they saw tall wooden towers raised in the middle of the field, and carried to a considerable height above the surrounding vegetation. On inquiring the purpose of these singular structures, they were informed that they were intended as watch-towers; and that, during the season, when the crops were approaching to ripeness, videttes were stationed upon these towers, both by night and by day, to keep a lookout for the bears, and frighten them off whenever these plunderers made their appearance within the boundaries of the fields!

Notwithstanding the many evidences of the sloth bear's presence met with throughout the province of Bengal, our hunters failed in falling in with this grotesque gentleman, till they were close up to the foot of the Himalaya mountains, in that peculiar district known as the Terai. This is a belt of jungle and forest land—of an average width of about twenty miles, and stretching along the southern base of the Himalaya range throughout its whole length, from Afghanistan to China. In all places the Terai is of so unhealthy a character, that it can scarcely be said to be inhabited—its only human denizens being a few sparse tribes of native people (Mechs); who, acclimated to its miasmatic atmosphere, have nothing to fear from it. Woe to the European who makes any lengthened sojourn in the Terai! He who does will there find his grave.

For all its unhealthiness, it is the favourite haunt of many of the largest quadrupeds: the elephant, the huge Indian rhinoceros, the lion and tiger, the jungly ghau or wild ox, the sambur stag, panthers, leopards, and cheetahs. The sloth bear roams through its thickets and glades—where his favourite food, the white ants, abounds; and it was upon reaching this district that our hunters more particularly bent themselves to search for a specimen of this uncouth creature.

Fortunately they were not long till they found one—else the climate of the Terai would soon have so enfeebled them, that they might never have been able to climb the stupendous mountains beyond. Almost upon entering within the confines of this deadly wilderness, they encountered the sloth bear; and although the interview was purely accidental, it ended in Bruin being deprived of his life and his long-haired robe.

The sloth bear did not submit tamely to this double robbery, for he was himself the assailant—having been the first to cry "stand and deliver!" Nor was his conquest accomplished without a perilous struggle—that came very near reducing the number of our heroes from odd to even. But we shall give the account of the affair, as we find it detailed in the journal of Alexis.



CHAPTER SIXTY.

BRUIN TAKEN BY THE TONGUE.

The travellers had halted for lunch, and tied their horses to the trees. While Pouchskin was spreading out the comestibles, and Alexis engaged in noting down in his journal the events of the day, Ivan—attracted by a beautiful bird—had taken up his fowling-piece, and followed the bird through the jungle—in hopes of getting a shot at it. We go along with Ivan, for it was he who started the "mountebank" bear, that came near mounting him on the moment of their meeting it.

Ivan was walking cautiously along a bank, that rose to about the height of his head; but which in places was undermined, as if by the action of running water—though there was no water to be seen. The ground, however, upon which he trod was covered with pebbles and coarse gravel— showing that at some period water must have flowed over it; and, indeed, it was evidently the bed of a stream that had been full during the rainy season, but was now completely dried up.

Ivan was not thinking of this; but of the beautiful bird which was flitting about among the trees—still keeping out of the range of his gun. He was in a bent attitude, crouching along under the bank—which he was using as a cover, to enable him to approach the tantalising game.

All at once, a singular noise fell upon his ear. It was a sort of monotonous purring, like that made by a spinning-machine, or a very large tom-cat; and like the latter, it was prolonged and continuous. The sound was not exactly pleasant to Ivan's ear, for it denoted the proximity of some animal; and, although it was not loud, there was something about the tone that told him the animal giving utterance to it was a creature to be feared. In fact, it fell upon Ivan's ear in the character of a warning; and caused him to desist from his pursuit of the bird, come suddenly to a stand, and listen with great attention.

For some moments he was unable to make out whence the sound proceeded. It seemed to fill the space all around him—as if it came out of the air itself—for the purring sound kept the atmosphere constantly vibrating; and, as there was no definite concussion, it was all the more difficult to trace it to its source.

The thought that had entered into Ivan's mind was that it might be the purring of a tiger he heard; and yet it seemed scarcely so harsh as that—for he knew the peculiar rattle which frequently proceeds from the thorax of the royal Bengalese cat.

He quickly reflected, however, that whether it was tiger or not, it would neither be safe for him to raise an alarm, nor start to rush back to the bivouac—though this was not twenty yards from the spot. By making an attempt to retreat, he might draw the animal after him, or stumble upon it—not knowing its direction. It was to ascertain its whereabouts that he had stopped and stood listening. That once known, he might keep his place, or lake to flight—as circumstances should dictate.

Nearly a minute remained he in this irresolute attitude—looking around on every side, and over the bank into the contiguous jungle; but he could see no living thing of any kind—for even the bird had long since taken its departure from the place. Still the purring continued; and once or twice the sound increased in volume—till it almost assumed the character of a "growl."

All at once, however, it came to an end; and was succeeded by a quick sharp "sniff," several times repeated. This was a more definite sound; and guided Ivan's eyes in a direction in which he had not before thought of looking. He had hitherto been reconnoitring around him and over the bank. He had not thought of looking under it.

In this direction were his eyes now turned; and, stooping his body, he peered into the dark subterraneous excavation which the water had caused in the alluvial earth. There, to his surprise, he beheld the author of the baritone performance that had been puzzling him.

At first he saw only a countenance of a dirty-whitish colour, with a pair of ugly glancing eyes; but, in looking more attentively, this countenance was seen to protrude out of an immense surrounding of black shaggy hair, which could be the covering of no other animal than a bear—and a sloth bear at that?

On making this discovery, Ivan did not know whether to be merry or sad. He would have been glad enough, had he seen the bear at a distance; but, situated as he was—with the great brute near enough to reach him at a single spring,—in fact, almost between his legs—he had little cause to congratulate himself upon the "find." Nor did he. On the contrary, he was seized with a quick perception of danger, and only thought of making his escape. He would have turned upon the instant and fled; but it occurred to him, that by doing so he would draw the bear after him; and he knew that, notwithstanding the uncouth shuffle which a bear makes in running,—and the sloth bear is the greatest "shuffler" of the family,— he can still go too fast for a man. Should he turn his face, the bear might spring upon his back, and thus have him at his mercy.

Instead of facing away, therefore, Ivan kept his front to the bank; and with his eyes fixed upon the animal, commenced gliding backward, slowly but silently. At the same time he had cautiously raised his gun to the level—with no intention, however, of firing, but merely to be ready in case the bear should become the assailant. Otherwise, Ivan was perfectly agreeable to making it a "draw" between them.

Bruin, however, had no idea of thus giving up the game; for the fierce growl which just at that moment escaped him, signified anything but assent. On the contrary, it was the prelude to the play; and declared his intention of beginning it. Almost simultaneous with the growl, he was seen starting to his feet; and before Ivan could pull trigger, or even raise his gun to a proper elevation, a huge mass of black shaggy hair, like a bundle of sooty rags, came whisking through the air directly towards him. Men talk of the sudden spring of the tiger, and the quick, rushing charge of the lion; but strange as it may seem, neither one nor other of these animals can charge forward on their intended victim with more celerity than a bear—clumsy and uncouth as Bruin may appear. His capacity of raising himself erect gives him this advantage; and from his great plantigrade posterior paws, combined with his powerful muscular legs, he can pitch forward with a velocity surprising as it is unexpected. This the regular bear-hunter well knows; and the knowledge renders him cautious about coming too close to a couchant bear. Ivan himself knew it; and it was for this very reason he was endeavouring to widen the distance between himself and Bruin, before he should turn to run.

Unfortunately he had not succeeded in gaining sufficient ground. He was still within charging distance of the animal as it rose to its feet; but another step backward as the bear launched forth, carried him clear of the spring; and Bruin leaped short. In another instant, however, he erected himself, and again sprang forward; but this time the impetus given to his body was not so great; and, although he succeeded in closing with the young hunter, the latter was enabled to keep his feet and grapple with him in an erect attitude. Had he fallen to the ground, the bear would have made short work with him.

Ivan had dropped his gun: for, not having time to raise it or take aim, the weapon was of no use. His hands were therefore free; and as the bear pitched up against him, he stretched out his arms, grasped the long hair that hung over the frontlet of the animal, and with all his might held back the monster's head with his threatening jaws.

The bear had thrown both his paws around the body of the young hunter; but a broad thick belt which the latter chanced to have on, protected his skin from the animal's claws. So long as he could hold back that open mouth, with its double rows of white sharp teeth, he had not so much to fear; but his strength could not last long against such a powerful wrestler. His only hope was that the cries which he was raising would bring the others to his assistance; and of this he had no doubt: as he already heard both Pouchskin and Alexis hurrying up towards the spot.

It was a perilous moment. The extended jaws of the bear were within twelve inches of the young hunter's face; he could feel the hot breath steaming against his cheeks, and the long extensile tongue almost touched his forehead, vibrating about in rapid sweeps, as if the animal by that means hoped to bring his head within reach!

The struggle was not protracted. It lasted till Alexis and Pouchskin came upon the ground; but not six seconds longer. The first thing that Pouchskin did was to grasp the protruding tongue of the bear in his left hand—making a half curl of it round his fingers—while with his right he plunged his long knife right between the ribs of the animal. Alexis, on the other side, dealt a blow in similar fashion; and, before either of them could draw his blade out of its hair-covered sheath, the huge mountebank relaxed his hold, and rolled over among the pebbles. There, after a few grotesque contortions his limbs lay extended and motionless, making it evident beyond a doubt, that his "dancing days were over."



CHAPTER SIXTY ONE.

AN EXTRA SKIN.

Our hunters did not remain at their bivouac longer than was absolutely necessary to swallow a hasty meal. They had been warned of the dangerous climate of the Terai, and hurrying on through it, reached the more elevated hill region before night. Journeying on, they entered the kingdom of Nepaul, among whose hills they expected to find the Thibet bear (ursus thibetanus). This animal has been usually regarded as a mere variety of the ursus arctos; but without the slightest reason. It is an animal of more gentle habits, and exclusively a vegetarian in its diet: in colour it is black, but having a white mark on its breast shaped like a Y, the branches of the letter coming up in front of its shoulders, while the limb extends between the fore legs and halfway along the belly. The claws of the animal are small and weak; and its profile forms almost a straight line, thus essentially differing from the ursus arctos. It is also a much smaller animal—rarely attaining to more than half the size of the latter species, and scarce bigger than the ursus malayanus, to which it bears a far greater resemblance. It is found in the mountains of Sylhet, and throughout that portion of the Himalayas enclosed within the great bend of the Brahmapootra, in Thibet, whence it derives its specific appellation. It is equally an inhabitant of the hill-country of Nepaul; and there our hunters proceeded in search of their specimen. By the help of a "Ghoorka" guide, which they had hired, they were not long in finding one; but as there was no curious or particular incident connected with its capture, the journal of Alexis is silent upon the affair: it is only recorded that the animal was started from a thicket of rhododendron bushes, and shot down while endeavouring to make its escape.

Having settled their business with the Thibet bear, our hunters might have also procured another species within the territory of Nepaul—that is, the brown, or Isabella bear (ursus isabellinus). This they could have found by ascending to the higher ranges of the great snowy mountains that overlook Nepaul; but as they knew they should also encounter this species near the sources of the Ganges, and as they were desirous of visiting that remarkable locality, they continued on westward through Nepaul and Delhi, arriving at the health station of Mussoorie, in the beautiful valley of the Dehra Doon.

After resting here for some days, they proceeded to ascend the mountains, the lower and middle zone of which they found covered with forests of magnificent oaks, of several distinct species.

In these oak-forests, greatly to the surprise of Alexis, they heard of the existence of a large black bear, altogether different from the ursus thibetanus, and equally so from the ursus isabellinus—a distinct species, in fact, which, though well-known to Anglo-Indian hunters, appears to have escaped the attention of naturalists.

They ascertained, moreover, that he was far from being a scarce animal, or an insignificant member of the Bruin family; in point of size, formidable strength, and ferocity of disposition, being only inferior to ursus ferox and maritimus, and in all these qualities quite a match for the ursus arctos. Of his fierce nature, and the capability to do mischief, our travellers had evidence in almost every village through which they passed. Numerous instances were brought before their notice of men who had been scratched and torn by these black bears, and some most fearfully mutilated. They saw men with their whole skin stripped from their skulls and faces; their features presenting a most hideous aspect.

This singular habit of inflicting punishment on their human enemy appears to be common to the whole bear tribe—I mean, the habit of scalping their victims, and endeavouring to disfigure the face. Not only do both the black and brown bears of the Himalayas follow this habit, but also the ursus arctos, the grizzly, and the white. They always aim at the head, but more especially the face; and with a single "rake" of their spread claws, usually strip off both skin and flesh.

Having accomplished this, a bear will often desist from further ill-treatment of his victims; and if the latter will but lie still and feign dead, the monster will give up mauling him, and shamble off from the ground, apparently satisfied with having taken the scalp.

This savage habit on the part of the bears our young hunters had long since noted; and that the black bear of the Himalayas followed the fashion of his kindred, they had now ample evidence.

In his other habits—which they learnt from the shikkaries, or village hunters—this bear strongly resembles the ursus arctos of Northern Europe. On ordinary occasions his food consists of fruits, roots, and insects of every kind he can catch—even scorpions and beetles—and where the primeval forest does not afford him full rations, he will enter the cultivated grounds and make havoc among the crops. Strange enough, he does not meddle with the wheat; though he will ravage the fields of buckwheat and barley! At night he enters the gardens contiguous to the houses, and plunders them of all kinds of fruits and vegetables. He even approaches still nearer—abstracting their honey from the tame bees—the hives of which, according to a curious custom of the hill people, are set in little indentations in the walls of their dwelling-houses.

The black bear occasionally cools his chops by munching melons and cucumbers; but he is particularly fond of a dessert of apricots—which is the most common fruit cultivated throughout the middle ranges of the Himalayas. The bear enters the apricot orchard at night; and climbing the trees, will make more havoc in a single visit than a score of schoolboys. In all the orchards, elevated crows' nests or sentry boxes are set up, specially intended for watching the bears; and at this season many of them are killed in the act of robbing.

The Himalayan black bear will eat flesh—either fresh or putrid—and when once he has got into this habit he never forsakes it, but remains a carnivorous creature for the rest of his life. He will attack the goats and sheep on the mountain pastures; and will even make inroads to the village enclosures, and destroy the animals in their very sheds! When a flock of sheep falls in his way, unless he is driven off by the shepherds, he does not content himself by killing only one, but sometimes converts a score of them into mutton.

Those bears, however, that exhibit an extreme carnivorous propensity, are certain to bring about their own destruction: as the attention of the villagers being drawn upon them, snares and baited traps are set everywhere, and they are also followed by the Shikkaries armed with their matchlock guns.

These bears often attain to an immense size—in this respect nearly equalling the ursus arctos, of which they cannot, however, be supposed to be a variety. Eight feet is the usual length of a full-grown specimen; and, when in a good condition, it requires a whole crowd of men to raise the carcass of one of them from the ground.

Autumn is their season of greatest fatness; and especially when the acorns are getting ripe, but previous to their falling from the tree. Then the black bears are met with in the greatest numbers, coming from all parts into the oak-forests, and climbing the trees to procure their favourite food. They do not nibble off the acorns one by one; but first break the branches which are loaded, and carry them all into one place— generally into some fork—where, seated like squirrels, on their great hams, they can discuss the meal at their leisure. In passing through these oak-forests, large piles of branches may be seen thus collected together on the tops of the trees—resembling the nests of rooks or magpies—which have been brought together by the bears for the purpose above stated.

When the forest lies in a district, where these bears are much hunted, they usually retire by day; and conceal themselves in their hiding-places in the thickets; but even in such forests the animals may be seen prowling about before sunset, and long after daylight in the morning.

In the higher hills and forests of the khurso oak, remote from the villages, they do not even take the precaution to hide themselves, but remain all day "acorn-gathering" among the trees. It is at this season that they can be hunted with most success: since the hunter is under no necessity of tracking them, but can find his great game by simply walking quietly through the woods, and keeping a lookout overhead, just as if he were searching for squirrels.

It chanced to be the months of October when our hunters arrived at this part of the Himalayas; and having reached the region of the larger oak-forests, they commenced their search accordingly. They were extremely desirous of success; knowing how much their father would be gratified at obtaining the skin of this black bear, which being an undescribed variety, might be considered an "extra" one.



CHAPTER SIXTY TWO.

AN UNHAPPY HORSE.

Our young hunters commenced their search in a forest of khurso oaks, which, interspersed with cedars and other trees, covered a high round-topped ridge, that rose above the little village where they had made their headquarters.

On reaching the flat summit of the ridge, they found they could manage better without their horses: as seated in the saddle they could not so well reconnoitre the tops of the trees, where they expected to see their game. They dismounted, therefore, and leaving their animals tied to the branches of a large spreading cedar-tree (the deodor), they proceeded onward on foot.

On this day the luck seemed to be against them; for although they met with plenty of "sign"—where the bears had broken the branches of the oaks—and also saw numbers of freshly-made "rooks' nests," they could not get their eyes upon Bruin himself, who had left these tokens of his presence. It might be that this forest was frequently hunted by the native Shikkaries; and that would account for the absence of the bears during the day-time. They had gone, no doubt, to their hiding-places.

This was the conclusion at which our hunters arrived—after tramping about until they were tired; and not having met with a single bear.

It was now the hour of noon; and, as they had been told that the evening would be the likelier time to find Bruin upon the prowl, they resolved returning to where they had left their horses, and remaining there until evening should arrive. They had grown hungry; and, having walked many miles, were pretty well done up. A bit of dinner, and a few hours' rest under the great cedar, would recruit their strength; and enable them to take the field again before sunset with a better prospect of success.

Following their backtrack through the forest, therefore, they proceeded towards the place where they had left their horses.

Before coming in sight of these animals, they were admonished of their proximity by hearing them neighing at short intervals; but, what surprised them still more, they heard a constant pounding—as if the horses were striking the ground repeatedly and continuously with their hoofs!

Arriving within view of them, their astonishment was not diminished, on perceiving that the three horses were rearing and dancing over the ground, as if endeavouring to break loose from their fastenings! Each had been tied to a separate branch of the tree—their bridles being simply noosed over the twigs at the extremities of the branches; and allowing them to play to the full length of the rein. Consequently, the three horses were many yards apart from each other; but all were equally in motion—all neighing and pitching about, as if something had set them mad!

Could it be horse-flies? thought the hunters. They knew there was a species of horse-fly in the Himalayas—greatly dreaded by all animals, and even by man himself. They knew this: for they had already suffered from its persecuting bite. But this was in the lower valleys; and it was not likely it should be found at the elevation of this khurso forests—quite 10,000 feet above sea level.

Perhaps bees? There might be a nest of wild bees somewhere near—why not in the cedar itself—and if so, the horses might be attacked by them? That would account for the capers they were cutting!

They had almost settled it in their mind that this was the true explanation; when an object came before their eyes that gave a very different solution to the mystery.

One of the horses appeared more frightened than the other two—at least he was squealing and curveting in a much more violent manner. As he danced around, his eyes appeared to be directed upwards—the great eye-balls sparkling, and protruded as if about to start from their sockets. This guided the glances of the hunters; and, looking among the branches of the cedar, they now perceived a large black mass, of an oblong shape—extended along one of the lower limbs, and just over the spot where the horse was tied.

They had hardly time to make out the shape of this dark object, and become convinced that it was the body of a bear, when the huge creature was seen to launch itself down from the limb; and then drop like a cat, all-fours, upon the back of the horse!

The latter uttered a scream of affright; and as if terror had added to his strength, he now succeeded in breaking the branch—around which the rein was looped—and bounded off through the forest, the bear still squatted upon his back!

The trees that stood around were nearly all of slender growth; but, as their stems grew thickly together, the horse, with his strange rider, could make but slow way among them; and every now and then the former, half blind with affright, dashed his sides against the trunks, causing them to crackle and shiver at each concussion.

All at once the horse was seen coming to a halt, as if brought up by the power of a Mameluke bit! The spectators saw this with wondering eyes— enable for the moment to explain it. As they were very near the spot where the halt had been made, they soon perceived the nature of the interruption. The bear had thrown one of his great forearms around a tree; while, with the other, he still clutched the horse, holding him fast! The design of Bruin was perfectly clear: he had seized the tree in order to bring the steed to a stand!

In this for a time he was successful. With one arm he was enabled to retain the tree in his powerful hug; while with the other he held the horse—his huge paw, with its retentive claws, being firmly fixed under the pommel of the saddle.

A singular struggle now ensued, which lasted for some seconds of time; the horse making the meet energetic efforts to escape; while the bear was equally eager in endeavouring to retain him.

Lucky was it for the steed that his master was not more particular about the girth of his saddle, and that either the strap or buckle was a bad one. Whichever of the two it was, one of them gave way; and the horse, thus freed, was not slow to profit by the fortunate accident. Uttering a neigh of joy, he sprang onward—leaving both bear and saddle behind him.

So far as the horse was concerned, his danger was over. Not so with the bear, whose troubles were just now to begin. While holding the horse in his muscular arm—and clutching the pine with the other—the tree had got bent until its top almost touched the saddle. When the girth broke, therefore, the elastic sapling sprang back like a piece of whalebone; and with such an impetus as not only to shake Bruin from his hold, but to pitch him several yards to the opposite side—where he lay stunned, or at all events so astonished, as, for a moment, to appear as if he had taken leave of his life!

This moment of the bear's embarrassment was not lost upon the hunters, who ran rapidly up—till within ten paces of the prostrate animal—and discharging their guns into his body, prevented him from ever again getting to his feet. His hide was the only part of him that afterwards attained the erect attitude; and that was when it was mounted in the museum of the Palace Grodonoff.



CHAPTER SIXTY THREE.

THE SNOW BEAR.

Higher up the Himalayas dwells the "snow bear." This species has received from naturalists the very fanciful appellation of the "Isabella bear" (ursus isabellinus)—a title suggested by its colour being that known as "Isabella colour,"—the type of which was the very dirty gown worn by Queen Isabella at the siege of Grenada. It is doubtful whether any living man could exactly tell what is an Isabella colour; and the use of such a phrase in describing the hue of an animal's skin is altogether indefinite and, to say the least, absurd.

The "Isabella bears," moreover, are not always of the so called Isabella colour. On the contrary, there are some of dark-brown, some of a hoary brown, and others nearly white; and to Himalayan hunters they are known by the various appellations of brown, red, yellow, white, grey, silver, and snow, stowing the numerous varieties of colour met with in the species. Some of these varieties are to be attributed to the different seasons of the year, and the age of the animal.

Of all these designations, that of "snow bear" appears the most characteristic, since it avoids the risk of a confusion of names—the other titles being equally bestowed upon certain varieties of the ursus americanus and ursus ferox. It is also appropriate to the Himalayan animal: since his favourite haunt is along the line of perpetual snow; or in the grassy treeless tracts that intervene between the snow-line and the forest-covered declivities—to which they descend only at particular times of the year.

In identifying this species, but little reliance can be placed on colour. In spring their fur is long and shaggy—of various shades of yellowish brown, sometimes reddish-brown, and not unfrequently of a grey or silvery hue. In summer this long yellowish fur falls off; and is replaced by a shorter and darker coat, which gradually grows longer and lighter as the winter approaches. The females are a shade lighter-coloured than the males; and the cubs have a broad circle of white around the neck, which gradually disappears as they grow to their full size.

The snow bear hybernates, hiding himself away in a cave; and he is only seen abroad when the spring sun begins to melt the snow upon the grass-covered tracts near the borders of the forest. On these he may be found throughout the summer—feeding upon grass and roots, with such reptiles and insects as come in his way. In the autumn he enters the forests in search of berries and nuts, and at this season—like his congener, the black bear—he even extends his depredations to the cultivated grounds and gardens of the villagers, in search of fruit and grain, buckwheat being a favourite food with him.

Though naturally a vegetarian in his diet, he will eat flesh-meat upon occasions; and frequently makes havoc among the flocks of sheep and goats, that in summer are taken up to pasture on the grassy tracts above mentioned. While thus engaged, he does not regard the presence of man; but will attack the shepherds who may attempt to drive him off.

Among the many strange items that compose the larder of the snow bear, grubs and scorpions have a prominent place. He spends much of his time in searching for these—scratching them out of their holes, and turning over stones to get at them. Great boulders of rock, that a man could not move, he will roll over with his muscular arms; and large tracts of ground may be seen with the stones thus displaced.

It was while engaged in this curious occupation, that our hunters came upon one of the snow bears; which they succeeded in killing. He was not the first they had encountered: they had started several, and wounded two; but both had got off from them. This one, however, fell to their "bag," and in rather an unexpected fashion.

They were working their toilsome way up a narrow ravine—which, although the season was autumn, was still filled with snow, that lay in the bottom of the gorge to a great depth. It was snow that had lain all the year; and although not frozen, the surface was firm and stiff; and it was with difficulty they could get support for their feet on it. Here and there they were compelled to stop and cut steps in the snow—as the surface sloped upward at an angle of full 50 degrees, and, in fact, they were rather climbing than walking. Their object, in undertaking this toilsome ascent, was simply because they had seen a bear going up the same way but a few minutes before; and the scratches of his claws were visible on the snow just before their faces.

Making as little noise as possible, they kept onward; and at length reached the head of the gorge. On peeping cautiously over, they saw a little table-like tract of level ground, several acres in extent. It was quite clear of snow; and covered with green herbage. A number of large boulder stones lay scattered over it—which had evidently rolled down from the mountain-side that rose still higher above the table.

But the sight that most gratified them was the bear himself—no doubt, the same they had seen going up the ravine. They now discovered him upon the level ground, not twenty yards from the spot where they stood. In a strange attitude they saw him—grasping between his fore paws a huge boulder stone, almost as large as his own body, and evidently in the act of rolling it out of its bed!

They were the less astonished at what they saw: for, being already acquainted with this singular habit of the snow bear, they knew what he was about. They did not stay, therefore, to watch his herculean labours; but all three, levelling their guns, pulled trigger simultaneously. The bullets—some of them, at least—evidently struck the bear; but, although, he dropped the great boulder—which at once fell back into its place—he did not himself drop. On the contrary, he turned suddenly round; and, giving utterance to a savage growl, rushed direct towards the hunters.

The latter, not having time to reload, had no choice but to run for it. There was no other way of escape open to them, except by the gorge up which they had come; as, to attempt ascending to the level ground would have brought them face to face with the bear. They turned, therefore; and commenced retreating down the ravine.

But now came the difficulty. They had not made three strides, before perceiving that they could not keep their feet upon the hard sloping surface of the snow. They had no time to cut fresh steps, nor pick out their old ones: as by doing either they would go too slowly, while the bear could scramble down the snow as rapidly as on bare ground. There was no alternative, therefore, but to fling themselves on their posteriors, and slide down the slope.

Quick as came the thought, all three of them dropped down upon their hams; and using their guns to prevent them from going with too great velocity, they shot downward to the bottom of the ravine.

On reaching the lower end of the slope, and regaining their feet, they turned and looked back up the gorge. The bear had arrived at the upper end; and was standing with his fore feet projected over the edge, and resting upon the snow. He appeared to be undecided, as to whether he should come down after them, or give up the pursuit. He was within easy range of a bullet; and they bethought them of reloading and giving him a fresh volley; when, to their chagrin, they discovered that the barrels of their guns were filled with snow—which had got into them during the descent.

While lamenting this unfortunate accident—in the full belief that they would now lose the bear—they saw the animal make a strange movement. It was forward, and towards them—as if he had made up his mind to charge down the slope; but they soon perceived that this could not be his intention: for as he came gliding on, sometimes his head, and sometimes his stern, was foremost; and it was evident that instead of the movement being a voluntary act on his part, it was quite the contrary. The fact was, that the bullets which they had fired into him had drawn the life's blood out of his veins; and having stood too long on the sloping edge of the snow, he had fallen through feebleness; and was now tumbling down the ravine, without strength enough to stay his descent.

In another instant he lay stretched almost at the feet of the hunters; for the impetus imparted to his huge carcass in the descent, had brought it with such a "whack" against a large rock, as to deprive him of whatever either of blood or breath there had been left in his body.

The hunters, however, made sure of this, by drawing their long knives, and making an additional vent or two between his ribs—thus securing themselves against all risk of his resuscitation.

They had now finished with the Himalayan bears of known and unknown kinds; but Alexis learnt enough from hunters, whom they had encountered during their sojourn in these mountains, to convince him that great confusion exists among naturalists as to the different species and varieties that inhabit the Himalayan range. Of the "snow bear" itself, a variety exists in the mountains of Cashmere; which, as far as Alexis could learn, was very different from the kind they had killed. The Cashmirian variety is of a deep reddish-brown colour, much longer in the muzzle than the "snow bear," and also a more dangerous antagonist to man—being a brute of eminently carnivorous propensity and savage disposition.

"It is quite probable," remarks Alexis, in his journal, "that instead of three kinds of bears inhabiting the Himalayan range, twice that number of 'species'—or at all events, of permanent varieties—may be found within the extensive area covered by these stupendous mountains."



CHAPTER SIXTY FOUR.

THE LAST CHASE.

Our travellers descended once more to the plains of Hindostan, and crossed the peninsula by dak to Bombay. From Bombay they sailed through the Indian Ocean, and up the Persian Gulf to the port of Bussora, on the Euphrates. Ascending the Tigris branch of this Asiatic river, they reached the famed city of Bagdad. They were now en route for the haunts of the Syrian bear among the snowy summits of Mount Lebanon. With a Turkish caravan, therefore, they started from Bagdad; and after much toil and many hardships, arrived in the city of Damascus—the scene of so many troubles and massacres caused by the fanaticism of a false religion.

With these questions our travellers had nothing to do; nor did they stay any length of time within the walls of the unhappy city. Soon after their arrival in the place, they obtained all the information they required of the whereabouts of the Syrian bear; and their steps were now directed towards the snowy summits of Libanus—better known to Christians by its Scriptural name of Mount Lebanon.

In these mountains the Syrian bear (ursus syriacus) is found; and it is only a few years since the animal was discovered there. Every naturalist had doubted the existence of bears in any part of Syria—as they now deny that there are any in Africa. Those who acknowledge it, are inclined to regard the Syrian bear as a mere variety of the ursus arctos; but this theory is altogether incorrect. In shape, colour, and many of his habits, the Syrian bear differs essentially from his brown congener; and his dwelling-place—instead of being in forest-covered tracts—is more generally in open ground or among rocks. In fact, his range upon the Syrian mountains is very similar to that of the "snow bear" on the Himalayas—near the line of perpetual snow.

The colour of the ursus syriacus is a light ash or fulvous brown, often—with a hoary or silvery tinge—but the colour varies at times to lighter and deeper shades. The hair lies close against the skin—in this respect differing from most of the species, in which the fur stands erect or perpendicular to the outlines of the body. This gives the Syrian bear the appearance of being a thinner and smaller animal, than many bears of upright fur that are no bigger than he.

By one characteristic mark he may be easily identified; and that is, by his having an erect ridge of fur running from his neck along the spine of his back, and looking not unlike the mane of a donkey. But, indeed, the Syrian bear may be easily distinguished from any other member of this family; and to regard him as a mere variety of the ursus arctos, is only going back to the old system that considers all the bears as one and the same species.

The Syrian bear does not inhabit the whole range of the mountains that pass under the general name of Lebanon. Only on the loftier summits is he found—particularly on that known as Mount Makmel. This summit is covered with snow; and it is under the snow-line he usually makes his haunt. Sometimes, however, he descends to a lower elevation; and in the village gardens—just as does the snow bear in the Himalayas—he makes sad havoc among fruits and vegetables. He will also kill sheep, goats, and even larger animals, that come in his way; and when provoked will attack the hunter without fear. He is most dreaded in the night: for it is during the darkness he generally makes his plundering expeditions. Both shepherds and hunters have been killed by him—proving that he still retains the savage character given to him in the Scriptures; where several of his kind—she-bears they were—are represented as having torn "forty and two of the mockers of Elisha."

He appears to have been equally characterised by a ferocity of disposition in the crusading ages—since it is related that the great leader Godfrey slew one of these bears, whom he found assaulting a poor woodcutter of Antioch; and the affair was considered a feat of great prowess, by those eccentric champions of the Cross.

That the Syrian bear is still as ferocious and savage, as he ever could have been, our hunters proved by their own experience: for although they did not get into the power of one, they would certainly have done so— some one of them at least—had they not been fortunate enough to kill the bear before he could lay his claws upon them. But we shall briefly describe the adventure; which was the last our hunters were engaged in— at least, the last we find recorded in the journal of Alexis.

Bischerre, a little mountain village, situated near the snow-line on Mount Makmel, had become their temporary headquarters. Its neighbourhood was celebrated for the great number of bears that frequent it. These animals descending from the higher ridges surrounding it, frequently enter the gardens of the villagers, and rob them of their vegetables and chick peas (cicer arietinus)—the latter being a favourite food of the Syrian bear.

From Bischerre the hunters extended their excursions on foot: since the nature of the ground would not admit of their using horses; and they had succeeded in getting several good "bear-chases," and in killing a brace of these animals. Both, however, were very young ones—cubs, in fact— and their skins would not do. A better specimen must be procured.

This came into their hands in the following manner:—

They had succeeded in tracing a bear up into a rocky ravine—the entrance into which was not over ten or twelve feet in width. The ravine itself was a steep descent leading up to the mountains; and its bottom, or bed, was covered with a conglomeration of large rounded boulders, that looked as if they had been rolled into this shape by water. They resembled the round stones sometimes seen in rivers; and no doubt there was a torrent there at times; but just then the channel was dry, and not a drop of water appeared anywhere. There was no snow either; as the place was below the line of snow; and they had only traced the bear into it on information given them by some shepherds, who had seen the animal recently enter it.

Belying upon this information, they kept up the defile, making their way with difficulty over the loose pebbles. They had a hope that the bear was still somewhere within the gorge; and that they might find him in some crevice or cave. On each side rose high cliffs that almost met over head; and our hunters, as they scrambled up the steep, examined these cliffs carefully—expecting to perceive the mouth of a cavern. The place was likely enough, for at every few yards they saw crevices and deep cavities; but in none of them could they find any traces of Bruin.

They had got about halfway through the ravine—and were still scrambling upward—when a loud sniff drew their attention; and, looking in the direction whence it appeared to have proceeded, there, sure enough, was the identical animal they were after—Master Bruin himself. They saw only his snout; which was projected out from the face of the cliff, about twenty feet above the bed of the ravine. His whole head was shortly after poked forth, and seen en profile from below, it looked as if there was a bear's head glued against the flat surface of the rock, just as stags' heads are seen ornamenting the halls of grand country mansions. Our hunters, however, knew there must be a cave behind—in which was the body of the bear, though it was concealed from their eyes.

The bear, after glancing at the intruders who had disturbed him, drew back his head so suddenly, that not a shot could be fired in time. The hunters, in order to get into a better position, hurried past under the cave; and took stand several paces above it—where they were able to command a better view of the entrance.

They were now on a level with the hole out of which the head had shown itself; and without speaking a word, only in whispers, they waited for the reappearance of the snout.

It was not long before they had the satisfaction of seeing it. Whether from curiosity to know if they were gone—or with the design of sallying forth in pursuit of them—the bear once more protruded his muzzle from the hole. Fearing that he might draw it back again, and not give them another chance, all three fired, and in such haste that two of them quite missed the object. Only the bullet of Alexis had been properly aimed; and this was seen striking the bear right in the teeth—several of which were shot clean out of his jaws!

As the smoke cleared out of their eyes, the great yellow body of the bear was observed out upon the little ledge that projected in front of the cave; and uttering loud screams—expressive both of rage and pain— the angry animal bounded down among the boulders. Instead of making down the ravine—as our hunters expected—he turned upwards, and rushed directly towards them.

Again there was no alternative but flight; and up the steep gorge they must go. To make downward would be to run right upon the claws of the infuriated animal; and upward was the only way left open to them.

All three started and ran as fast as they were able; and for a while were in hopes of distancing their pursuer. But further up, the slope grew steeper; and the loose stones became more difficult to clamber over. Their breath, too, was by this time quite gone; and all three were panting like "winded" horses.

It was impossible for them to go a step farther.

In despair, they halted; and turned to face the pursuer—all of them at the same instant drawing their knives; and bracing their bodies for the expected struggle. The bear, still growling and screaming, came on— making way over the stones much faster than they had done. He would have been certain of overtaking them, had they continued their race: for he was scarce six paces behind them when they stopped.

No doubt it would have been a dangerous conflict, had it come off; and, indeed, breathless as they were, they could never have sustained the attack. Of course, they had no time to reload their guns, and did not think of such a thing. Their determination was to defend themselves with their knives; and perhaps they might have succeeded in doing so, had there been an occasion. But there was not.

Before the bear could get up to them, a better idea had flashed across the brain of Pouchskin; which he lost not a moment in carrying into execution. Stooping suddenly, and flinging his knife out of his hands, he laid hold of a large boulder—big enough to weigh at least half a hundred—and, raising this to the height of his shoulder, he hurled it down upon the bear!

The huge stone struck the animal right upon the breast; and what with the force by which it had been launched from Pouchskin's powerful arm, and the impetus it had gained in its descent, it acted on Bruin like a thunderbolt—not only knocking him over on his back, but carrying his body along with it full ten paces down the gorge!

When the hunters at length reloaded their guns, and went down to where Bruin lay among the rocks, they found him lying doubled up as dead as mutton!

Having stripped him of his fulvous skin, they returned to Bischerre; and next day packing up their impedimenta, they crossed through the passes of Mount Libanus, and proceeded onward to the shores of the Mediterranean Sea.

Home was now thy word; and right pleasant was the sound of it in their ears. The grand bear-hunt was ended. They had accomplished the task imposed upon them—having kept every condition of their covenant.

Of course they expected a grand welcome upon their return; and in this expectation they were not disappointed; for many days and nights after the baronial halls of the Palace Grodonoff echoed the sounds of mirth and revelry.

In the museum our young hunters met their old acquaintances, from, all parts of the world. They encountered them standing in different attitudes—all mounted in the most approved fashion. The Syrian bear was the only one not among them: as they had themselves brought his skin—all the others having been sent home by "Parcels Delivery." In a few days, however, the ursus syriacus was set upon his legs; and the collection was complete.

The news of the "Grand Bear-Hunt," with its curious conditions, soon got abroad; and travelled all round the social circle of Saint Petersburgh. Figuratively speaking, our young hunters were transformed into animals themselves—they became "lions,"—and remained so for that season; but even at this hour in the salons of the great Russian capital, you may often hear introduced, as a favourite topic of conversation—

"The Baron and his Bears." THE END.