Chapter Fifty Three.

Chapter Fifty Three.Dog-Driving.The guide was conducting them to a stream that ran into the bay some ten or twelve miles from the “ostrog.” On that stream, he said, they would be pretty certain to find a bear, if not several: since at a place he knew of the water was not frozen, and the bears might be there trying to catch fish. When questioned as to why this particular stream was not frozen like the others, he said that some distance up it there were warm springs—a phenomenon of frequent occurrence in the peninsula of Kamschatka—that these springs supplied most of the water of the stream; and that for several hundred yards below where they gushed forth, the river was kept open by their warmth during the severest winters. Not throughout its whole course, however. Farther down, where the water became cool, it froze like in other streams; and that this was the case, was evident to our hunters, who had entered the mouth of the rivers from the icy surface of the bay, and were gliding in their sledges up its frozen channel.After having gone three or four miles up this icebound stream, which ran through a narrow valley with steep sloping sides, the guide warned our hunters that they were close to the place where the water would be found open. At this point a low ridge ran transversely across the valley—through which the stream had, in process of time, cut a channel; but the ridge occasioned a dam or lake of some half-dozen acres in superficial extent, which lay just above it. The dam itself was rarely frozen over; and it was by the water remaining in it, or flowing sluggishly through it—and thus giving it time to cool—that the stream immediately below got frozen over.The lake lay just on the other side of the ridge, and was now only hidden from their view by the rise of the ground. If not frozen over, as the guide conjectured, there was likely to be a bear roaming around its edge; and therefore they resolved to observe caution in approaching it.The sledges were to be taken no further. Our hunters had learnt how to manage both dog-sledges and dogs. Their experience in Finland, as well as in the countries of the Hudson’s Bay territory, had taught them that; and made them skilful in the handling of these animals—else they would have made but poor work in travelling as they did now. In fact, they could not have managed at all: since it requires a great deal of training to be able to drive a dog-sledge. This, however, they had received—both the boys and Pouchskin—and fortunate it had been so; for very shortly after they were placed in a predicament, in which their lives depended on their skill as sledge drivers.The dogs were left under cover of the ridge, near the bottom of the little slope; a sign was given to them to keep their places—which these well-trained creatures perfectly comprehended; and the hunters—the Kurilski with the rest—holding their guns in readiness, ascended towards the summit of the slope.There was no cover, except what was afforded by the inequality of the ground. There were no trees in the valley—only stunted bushes, not half the height of a man’s body, and these nearly buried to their tops in the snow. A few, however, appeared growing along the crest of the ridge.The hunters crawled up to these on all-fours, and peeped cautiously through their branches.It was the impatient Ivan that looked first; and what he saw so surprised him, as almost to deprive him of the power of speech! Indeed, he was not able to explain what he saw—till the other three had got forward, and became equally eye-witnesses of the spectacle that had astonished him.As the guide had conjectured, the lake was not frozen. There was some loose snow floating over its surface; but most of the water was open; and the stream that flowed slowly in on the opposite side was quite clear of either ice or snow.The guide had also predicted hypothetically that they might see a bear—perhaps two. It had not occurred to this man of moderate pretensions that they might seetwelve—and yet no less than twelve bears were in sight!Yes, twelve bears—they were as easily counted as oxen—were around the shores of this secluded lake, and on the banks of the little stream that ran into it—all within five hundred yards of each other. Indeed, it would have been easy to have mistaken them for a herd of brown heifers or oxen; had it not been for the various attitudes in which they were seen: some upon all-fours—some standing erect, like human beings, or squatted on their hams like gigantic squirrels—others in the water, their bodies half submerged—others swimming about, their backs and heads only visible above the surface; and still others, prowling leisurely along the banks, or over the strip of level meadow-land that bordered the lake.Such a sight our bear-hunters had never witnessed before, and might never witness again, in any other country, save Kamschatka itself. There it is by no means uncommon; and twenty bears instead of twelve have been often seen in a single drove—at that season when they descend from their mountain retreats to their favourite fishing-grounds upon the lakes and streams.Our hunters were perplexed by so unexpected a sight; and for some moments unresolved as to how they should act. Fortunately, the bushes already mentioned served to conceal them from the bears; and the wind was blowing towards the hunters—otherwise the bears, who are keen of scent, would soon have discovered their presence. As it was, not one of them—though several were close to the ridge—seemed to have any suspicion that an enemy was so near. The huge quadrupeds appeared to be too busy about their own affairs—endeavouring to capture the fish—some of them greedily devouring those they had already taken, and others wandering restlessly about, or eagerly observing the movements of the fish in the water. One and all of them looked fierce and famished, their bodies showing gaunt and flaky, and their enormous limbs having a lank angular appearance, that gave them a still greater resemblance to heifers—only heifers that had been half starved!

The guide was conducting them to a stream that ran into the bay some ten or twelve miles from the “ostrog.” On that stream, he said, they would be pretty certain to find a bear, if not several: since at a place he knew of the water was not frozen, and the bears might be there trying to catch fish. When questioned as to why this particular stream was not frozen like the others, he said that some distance up it there were warm springs—a phenomenon of frequent occurrence in the peninsula of Kamschatka—that these springs supplied most of the water of the stream; and that for several hundred yards below where they gushed forth, the river was kept open by their warmth during the severest winters. Not throughout its whole course, however. Farther down, where the water became cool, it froze like in other streams; and that this was the case, was evident to our hunters, who had entered the mouth of the rivers from the icy surface of the bay, and were gliding in their sledges up its frozen channel.

After having gone three or four miles up this icebound stream, which ran through a narrow valley with steep sloping sides, the guide warned our hunters that they were close to the place where the water would be found open. At this point a low ridge ran transversely across the valley—through which the stream had, in process of time, cut a channel; but the ridge occasioned a dam or lake of some half-dozen acres in superficial extent, which lay just above it. The dam itself was rarely frozen over; and it was by the water remaining in it, or flowing sluggishly through it—and thus giving it time to cool—that the stream immediately below got frozen over.

The lake lay just on the other side of the ridge, and was now only hidden from their view by the rise of the ground. If not frozen over, as the guide conjectured, there was likely to be a bear roaming around its edge; and therefore they resolved to observe caution in approaching it.

The sledges were to be taken no further. Our hunters had learnt how to manage both dog-sledges and dogs. Their experience in Finland, as well as in the countries of the Hudson’s Bay territory, had taught them that; and made them skilful in the handling of these animals—else they would have made but poor work in travelling as they did now. In fact, they could not have managed at all: since it requires a great deal of training to be able to drive a dog-sledge. This, however, they had received—both the boys and Pouchskin—and fortunate it had been so; for very shortly after they were placed in a predicament, in which their lives depended on their skill as sledge drivers.

The dogs were left under cover of the ridge, near the bottom of the little slope; a sign was given to them to keep their places—which these well-trained creatures perfectly comprehended; and the hunters—the Kurilski with the rest—holding their guns in readiness, ascended towards the summit of the slope.

There was no cover, except what was afforded by the inequality of the ground. There were no trees in the valley—only stunted bushes, not half the height of a man’s body, and these nearly buried to their tops in the snow. A few, however, appeared growing along the crest of the ridge.

The hunters crawled up to these on all-fours, and peeped cautiously through their branches.

It was the impatient Ivan that looked first; and what he saw so surprised him, as almost to deprive him of the power of speech! Indeed, he was not able to explain what he saw—till the other three had got forward, and became equally eye-witnesses of the spectacle that had astonished him.

As the guide had conjectured, the lake was not frozen. There was some loose snow floating over its surface; but most of the water was open; and the stream that flowed slowly in on the opposite side was quite clear of either ice or snow.

The guide had also predicted hypothetically that they might see a bear—perhaps two. It had not occurred to this man of moderate pretensions that they might seetwelve—and yet no less than twelve bears were in sight!

Yes, twelve bears—they were as easily counted as oxen—were around the shores of this secluded lake, and on the banks of the little stream that ran into it—all within five hundred yards of each other. Indeed, it would have been easy to have mistaken them for a herd of brown heifers or oxen; had it not been for the various attitudes in which they were seen: some upon all-fours—some standing erect, like human beings, or squatted on their hams like gigantic squirrels—others in the water, their bodies half submerged—others swimming about, their backs and heads only visible above the surface; and still others, prowling leisurely along the banks, or over the strip of level meadow-land that bordered the lake.

Such a sight our bear-hunters had never witnessed before, and might never witness again, in any other country, save Kamschatka itself. There it is by no means uncommon; and twenty bears instead of twelve have been often seen in a single drove—at that season when they descend from their mountain retreats to their favourite fishing-grounds upon the lakes and streams.

Our hunters were perplexed by so unexpected a sight; and for some moments unresolved as to how they should act. Fortunately, the bushes already mentioned served to conceal them from the bears; and the wind was blowing towards the hunters—otherwise the bears, who are keen of scent, would soon have discovered their presence. As it was, not one of them—though several were close to the ridge—seemed to have any suspicion that an enemy was so near. The huge quadrupeds appeared to be too busy about their own affairs—endeavouring to capture the fish—some of them greedily devouring those they had already taken, and others wandering restlessly about, or eagerly observing the movements of the fish in the water. One and all of them looked fierce and famished, their bodies showing gaunt and flaky, and their enormous limbs having a lank angular appearance, that gave them a still greater resemblance to heifers—only heifers that had been half starved!

Chapter Fifty Four.A Sledge-Chase.I have said that our hunters were for some time irresolute about how to act. The Kurilski was inclined to withdraw from the spot and leave the bears alone; and this of course was his advice to the others. He said there might be danger in disturbing them—so many clustered together, and in such a mood as they appeared to be. He had known them to attack a large party of men under such circumstances, and give chase to them. They might do the same now?Our hunters, however, did not give full credit to this story of their guide—thinking it might have its origin in the fears of the Kurilski, whom they knew to be of a timid race; and therefore they determined not to back out. The chance was too tempting to be surrendered for so slight a reason, and without a struggle. There were several bears within easy shot of the ground where they were kneeling!It would never do to let such an opportunity pass. They might not meet with so good a chance again; or, at all events, they might be delayed a good long time before another would turn up; and a residence in Petropaulouski, even in the “isba” of the governor—who was himself only a sergeant of Cossacks, and his dwelling a mere hut—was not so pleasant as that they should wish to prolong it. They had now been a great while journeying through countries covered with frost and snow; and they were longing to reach those tropical isles—famed for their spices and their loveliness—which were to be the next stage in their grand tour round the globe.Influenced by these thoughts, then, they resolved to run all hazard, and try a shot at the bears.The Kurilski, seeing them determined, gave in; and, joining his gun to theirs, a volley of four shots was simultaneously discharged through the bushes.Two bears were seen to drop over and lie kicking upon the snow; but whether they continued their kicking for any considerable length of time, was a question about which our hunters could give no definite information. They did not stay to see: for the moment the smoke had cleared off, they saw the whole gang of bears in motion, and rushing towards them from all sides of the lake. The shrill fierce screaming of the animals, and the hurried pace in which they were making towards the ridge, declared their intentions. They were charging forward to the attack.The hunters saw this at a glance; and thought only of retreating. But whither could they fly? There were no trees; and if there had been, the bears could have climbed them even better than themselves. There were steep rocky cliffs on both sides of the ravine; but these would afford them no security—even had their ice-coated slope permitted of their being scaled. But it did not, and if it had, the bears could have scaled the rocks too!Our Russian hunters were in a complete state of perplexity, and perhaps would not have known how to save themselves, had it not been for their Kurilski comrade. He, however, had conceived an idea—or, rather, had drawn it from old experience; and just at this moment he rushed down the slope, as he did so calling to the others to take to their sledges, and warning them that it was their only chance of escape.Of course none of them thought of disputing his advice, or even calling it in question; but one and all of them yielded obedience on the instant. Without saying a word, each rushed to his sledge, leaped upon the runners, seated himself in double quick time upon the little crescent-like cradle, seized the “ribbons,” and straightened his team to the road.Had the dogs not been well-trained, and their drivers equally well used to the management of a sledge, their peril would have been extreme. As it was—though all came into their places in good style, and without confusion—they had not a second to spare. The bears were already galloping down the slope; and as the last sledge—which was Pouchskin’s—moved off from the bottom of the ridge, the foremost of the roaring pursuers had got within less than six yards of it!It was now a trial of speed between bears and sledge-dogs—for the latter knew that they were in as much danger as their masters; and needed neither the exclamationAh! nor theoschtolto urge them forward. On swept they over the frozen crust, as fast as they could go—handling their limbs and claws with the nimbleness peculiar to their race.The bears followed in a sort of lumbering gallop; yet, notwithstanding their uncouth movements, they kept for a long time close in the rear of the fugitives.Fortunately they did not possess the speed of the canine race; and at length—seeing that they were being distanced—one after another gave up the chase, and commenced returning towards the lake, slowly, and with apparent reluctance.Just at this crisis an accident occurred to Pouchskin—or rather Pouchskin committed a mistake—which, had it been made five minutes sooner, would most assuredly have cost him his life. The mistake which Pouchskin made, was to drop the iron end of his “oschtol” on the snowy crust between his sledge and the two dogs nearest to it—the “wheelers” as we may call them. The effect of this, with Kamschatkan sledge-dogs, is to cause the whole team to halt; and so acted the dogs that Pouchskin was driving—all five suddenly coming to a dead stop! Pouchskin endeavoured to urge them forward—crying out the usual signal,Ha; but, in his anxious eagerness, Pouchskin placed the accent after the vowel, instead of before it; and instead ofHa! his exclamation soundedAh! The latter being the command for the dogs to halt, of course only kept them steady in their places; and they stood without offering to move a leg. By good fortune, the bears had already given up the pursuit, and were not witnesses of this interruption: otherwise it would have gone ill with the ex-grenadier.In due time the dogs were once more started; and Pouchskin—putting them to their highest rate of speed—soon overtook the sledge-train; which did not come to a halt until a good mile of snow-covered country was between it and the bears.The hunters only paused then, for a short while, to breathe their panting dogs; and this done, they resumed their seats on the sledges, and continued on to the ostrog—without a thought of going back after the bears.They had no intention, however, of giving them up entirely. They only drove home to the village—in order to get assistance; and, as soon as their report was delivered, all the men of the settlement—Cossacks, Kurilskis, and half-breeds—turned out armed to the teeth for a grand battue, and proceeded towards the lake with the Governor himself at their head.The bears were still upon the ground—both the living and the dead—for it was now seen that two of their number had fallen to the shots of our hunters—and upon the former a general fusillade was at once opened, which ended in their complete discomfiture. Five more of them were killed upon the spot; and several others that took to flight were tracked through the snow, and destroyed in their hiding-places. For a week after, there was very little fish eaten in the ostrog of Petropaulouski—which for a long period previous to that time had not witnessed such a carnival.Of course our Russian hunters came in for their share of the trophies; and, choosing the skin of one of the bears they had themselves shot, they left it with the Governor, to be forwardedviaOkhotsk and Yakoutsk, to the distant capital of Saint Petersburg. Shortly after the fur ship carried them to Canton,—whence they might expect to find a passage in a Chinese trading vessel to the grand island of Borneo.

I have said that our hunters were for some time irresolute about how to act. The Kurilski was inclined to withdraw from the spot and leave the bears alone; and this of course was his advice to the others. He said there might be danger in disturbing them—so many clustered together, and in such a mood as they appeared to be. He had known them to attack a large party of men under such circumstances, and give chase to them. They might do the same now?

Our hunters, however, did not give full credit to this story of their guide—thinking it might have its origin in the fears of the Kurilski, whom they knew to be of a timid race; and therefore they determined not to back out. The chance was too tempting to be surrendered for so slight a reason, and without a struggle. There were several bears within easy shot of the ground where they were kneeling!

It would never do to let such an opportunity pass. They might not meet with so good a chance again; or, at all events, they might be delayed a good long time before another would turn up; and a residence in Petropaulouski, even in the “isba” of the governor—who was himself only a sergeant of Cossacks, and his dwelling a mere hut—was not so pleasant as that they should wish to prolong it. They had now been a great while journeying through countries covered with frost and snow; and they were longing to reach those tropical isles—famed for their spices and their loveliness—which were to be the next stage in their grand tour round the globe.

Influenced by these thoughts, then, they resolved to run all hazard, and try a shot at the bears.

The Kurilski, seeing them determined, gave in; and, joining his gun to theirs, a volley of four shots was simultaneously discharged through the bushes.

Two bears were seen to drop over and lie kicking upon the snow; but whether they continued their kicking for any considerable length of time, was a question about which our hunters could give no definite information. They did not stay to see: for the moment the smoke had cleared off, they saw the whole gang of bears in motion, and rushing towards them from all sides of the lake. The shrill fierce screaming of the animals, and the hurried pace in which they were making towards the ridge, declared their intentions. They were charging forward to the attack.

The hunters saw this at a glance; and thought only of retreating. But whither could they fly? There were no trees; and if there had been, the bears could have climbed them even better than themselves. There were steep rocky cliffs on both sides of the ravine; but these would afford them no security—even had their ice-coated slope permitted of their being scaled. But it did not, and if it had, the bears could have scaled the rocks too!

Our Russian hunters were in a complete state of perplexity, and perhaps would not have known how to save themselves, had it not been for their Kurilski comrade. He, however, had conceived an idea—or, rather, had drawn it from old experience; and just at this moment he rushed down the slope, as he did so calling to the others to take to their sledges, and warning them that it was their only chance of escape.

Of course none of them thought of disputing his advice, or even calling it in question; but one and all of them yielded obedience on the instant. Without saying a word, each rushed to his sledge, leaped upon the runners, seated himself in double quick time upon the little crescent-like cradle, seized the “ribbons,” and straightened his team to the road.

Had the dogs not been well-trained, and their drivers equally well used to the management of a sledge, their peril would have been extreme. As it was—though all came into their places in good style, and without confusion—they had not a second to spare. The bears were already galloping down the slope; and as the last sledge—which was Pouchskin’s—moved off from the bottom of the ridge, the foremost of the roaring pursuers had got within less than six yards of it!

It was now a trial of speed between bears and sledge-dogs—for the latter knew that they were in as much danger as their masters; and needed neither the exclamationAh! nor theoschtolto urge them forward. On swept they over the frozen crust, as fast as they could go—handling their limbs and claws with the nimbleness peculiar to their race.

The bears followed in a sort of lumbering gallop; yet, notwithstanding their uncouth movements, they kept for a long time close in the rear of the fugitives.

Fortunately they did not possess the speed of the canine race; and at length—seeing that they were being distanced—one after another gave up the chase, and commenced returning towards the lake, slowly, and with apparent reluctance.

Just at this crisis an accident occurred to Pouchskin—or rather Pouchskin committed a mistake—which, had it been made five minutes sooner, would most assuredly have cost him his life. The mistake which Pouchskin made, was to drop the iron end of his “oschtol” on the snowy crust between his sledge and the two dogs nearest to it—the “wheelers” as we may call them. The effect of this, with Kamschatkan sledge-dogs, is to cause the whole team to halt; and so acted the dogs that Pouchskin was driving—all five suddenly coming to a dead stop! Pouchskin endeavoured to urge them forward—crying out the usual signal,Ha; but, in his anxious eagerness, Pouchskin placed the accent after the vowel, instead of before it; and instead ofHa! his exclamation soundedAh! The latter being the command for the dogs to halt, of course only kept them steady in their places; and they stood without offering to move a leg. By good fortune, the bears had already given up the pursuit, and were not witnesses of this interruption: otherwise it would have gone ill with the ex-grenadier.

In due time the dogs were once more started; and Pouchskin—putting them to their highest rate of speed—soon overtook the sledge-train; which did not come to a halt until a good mile of snow-covered country was between it and the bears.

The hunters only paused then, for a short while, to breathe their panting dogs; and this done, they resumed their seats on the sledges, and continued on to the ostrog—without a thought of going back after the bears.

They had no intention, however, of giving them up entirely. They only drove home to the village—in order to get assistance; and, as soon as their report was delivered, all the men of the settlement—Cossacks, Kurilskis, and half-breeds—turned out armed to the teeth for a grand battue, and proceeded towards the lake with the Governor himself at their head.

The bears were still upon the ground—both the living and the dead—for it was now seen that two of their number had fallen to the shots of our hunters—and upon the former a general fusillade was at once opened, which ended in their complete discomfiture. Five more of them were killed upon the spot; and several others that took to flight were tracked through the snow, and destroyed in their hiding-places. For a week after, there was very little fish eaten in the ostrog of Petropaulouski—which for a long period previous to that time had not witnessed such a carnival.

Of course our Russian hunters came in for their share of the trophies; and, choosing the skin of one of the bears they had themselves shot, they left it with the Governor, to be forwardedviaOkhotsk and Yakoutsk, to the distant capital of Saint Petersburg. Shortly after the fur ship carried them to Canton,—whence they might expect to find a passage in a Chinese trading vessel to the grand island of Borneo.

Chapter Fifty Five.The Sun-Bears.There are colonies of Chinese settled in different parts of Borneo—whose principal business there is the working of gold and antimony mines. These Chinese colonial settlements—along with numerous others throughout the Oriental islands—are under the protection and direction of a great Mercantile Company calledKung Li—somewhat resembling our own East India Company. In Borneo, the headquarters of this commercial association of the Chinese, is the port and river of Sambos, on the western coast; though they have many other settlements in different parts of the island. Of course, between these colonies and Canton there is a regular traffic; and our travellers found no difficulty in proceeding to Borneo in a Chinese junk which traded direct from Canton to Sambos. At Sambos there is also a Dutch settlement, or “factory,” belonging to the Dutch East India Company; and this Company has also two other stations in the island—all, however, occupying a territory of limited extent, compared with the large surface of the island itself. No other European settlements exist in Borneo, if we except an English “agency” lately established at the little island of Labuan; and a settlement at Sarawak, under an English adventurer, who styles himself “Rajah Brooke.”The “rajah” rests his claim to the title and territory of Sarawak on a grant from the Sultan of Borneo (Bruni); and thequid pro quowhich he professes to have given, was the having assisted the said Sultan in putting down the “Dyak pirates!” This is the pretence hitherto put forth to the British public; but on a closer inquiry into the facts of this transaction, the story assumes quite a different colour; and it would rather appear, that, instead of assisting to put down piracy in the Bornean waters, the first act of the philanthropic Englishman was to assist the Malay Sultan in enslaving several tribes of inoffensive Dyaks, and forcing them to work without pay in the mines of antimony! This appears to have been the nature of the services that purchased Sarawak. It was, in fact, aiding the pirates, instead of putting them down: since the Bornean Sultan was himself the actual patron and protector of these sea robbers, instead of being their enemy!The patriot and statesman Hume endeavoured to procure an inquiry into these acts of Orientalfilibusterism; but the underhand influence of an unprincipled Administration, backed by an interested commercial clamour, was too strong for him; and the shameful usurpation has been justified.Notwithstanding that Europeans have been settled for hundreds of years in the islands of the Indian Archipelago—ruling them, as we may almost say—it is astonishing how little is yet known of the great island of Borneo. Only its coasts have been traced, and these very imperfectly. The Dutch have made one or two expeditions into the interior; but much knowledge need not be expected from such trading hucksters as they. Their energies in the East have been expended throughout a period of two centuries, with no other apparent object than to promote dissension, wherever it was possible; and to annihilate every spark of freedom or nobility among the races who have had the misfortune to come in contact with them.Notwithstanding their opportunities, they have done little to add to our knowledge of Borneo—which was about as well-known a hundred years ago as it is at the present hour.—Never was a subject more ripe for illustration than this magnificent island. It courts a monograph—such as has been given to Sumatra by Marsden, by Tennant to Ceylon, and to Java by Sir Stamford Raffles. Perhaps some one of my young readers may become the author of that monograph?Teeming with the most gorgeous forms of tropical life—so rich infaunaandflora, that it might be almost regarded as a great zoological and botanical garden combined—it will well repay the scientific explorer, who may scarce find such another field on the face of the earth.Our young hunters, in contemplating the grand tropical scenery of Borneo, were filled with admiration. Thesylvawas quite equal to anything they had witnessed on the Amazon; while thefauna—especially in quadrupeds andquadrumana—was far richer.To one quadruped was their attention more especially directed; and I need hardly say that this was the Bornean bear—by far the most beautiful animal of the whole Bruin family. The Bornean bear is also the smallest of the family—in size, being even less than his near congener, the Malayan bear; though resembling the latter in many particulars. His fur is a jet black, with a muzzle of an orange-yellow colour, and a disc of still deeper orange upon the breast, bearing a certain resemblance to the figure of a heart. The hair is thickly and evenly set over his whole body—presenting the same uniform surface which characterises the black bear of North America, the two species of South America, and also his Malayan cousin—who inhabits the neighbouring islands of Sumatra and Java. For the latter, indeed, he is often taken; and many naturalists consider them as one species—though this is certainly an error. The Bornean bear is not only much less in bulk; but the deep orange-colour on his breast offers a permanent mark of distinction. In the Malayan bear there is also a marking on the breast; but it is of half-moon shape and whitish colour. Besides, the colour of the muzzle in the latter species is onlyyellowish, notyellow; and the animal altogether is far from being so handsome as the bear of Borneo.Dr Horsfield, who had good opportunities of observing them both, has pointed out other essential characteristics, which prove conclusively that they are separate species; but the Doctor, guided by his love for generic distinctions, could not rest satisfied, without further ornamenting his task—by constituting for them a new genus, under the title ofHelarctos. There is no reason whatever for this inundation of generic names. It has served no good purpose; but, on the contrary, renders the study of natural history more complicated and obscure; and to no family of animals do these remarks more pointedly apply, than to that of the bears. So similar are all these quadrupeds to one another—so perfect is thefamily likenessbetween them—that to separate them into different genera is a mere pedantic conceit of the anatomists. There are about a dozen species in all; and the systematic naturalists—who do not even admit that number—have formed for the bears nearly as many genera as there are species,—among which may be mentioned the ridiculous titles ofProchilus, Melursus, Helarctos, and the like.The Bornean bear is as much a true species ofursusas either the brown bear of Europe, the black bear of North America, or the black bears of the Cordilleras; and, indeed, to these last his habits assimilate him very closely—being, like them, a vegetarian in his diet, and a great lover of sweets.Of hispenchantfor honey our young hunters had proof: for, it was while actually engaged in plundering a hive they first saw the Bornean bear. They were at the same time successful in effecting his capture—which is now to be described.

There are colonies of Chinese settled in different parts of Borneo—whose principal business there is the working of gold and antimony mines. These Chinese colonial settlements—along with numerous others throughout the Oriental islands—are under the protection and direction of a great Mercantile Company calledKung Li—somewhat resembling our own East India Company. In Borneo, the headquarters of this commercial association of the Chinese, is the port and river of Sambos, on the western coast; though they have many other settlements in different parts of the island. Of course, between these colonies and Canton there is a regular traffic; and our travellers found no difficulty in proceeding to Borneo in a Chinese junk which traded direct from Canton to Sambos. At Sambos there is also a Dutch settlement, or “factory,” belonging to the Dutch East India Company; and this Company has also two other stations in the island—all, however, occupying a territory of limited extent, compared with the large surface of the island itself. No other European settlements exist in Borneo, if we except an English “agency” lately established at the little island of Labuan; and a settlement at Sarawak, under an English adventurer, who styles himself “Rajah Brooke.”

The “rajah” rests his claim to the title and territory of Sarawak on a grant from the Sultan of Borneo (Bruni); and thequid pro quowhich he professes to have given, was the having assisted the said Sultan in putting down the “Dyak pirates!” This is the pretence hitherto put forth to the British public; but on a closer inquiry into the facts of this transaction, the story assumes quite a different colour; and it would rather appear, that, instead of assisting to put down piracy in the Bornean waters, the first act of the philanthropic Englishman was to assist the Malay Sultan in enslaving several tribes of inoffensive Dyaks, and forcing them to work without pay in the mines of antimony! This appears to have been the nature of the services that purchased Sarawak. It was, in fact, aiding the pirates, instead of putting them down: since the Bornean Sultan was himself the actual patron and protector of these sea robbers, instead of being their enemy!

The patriot and statesman Hume endeavoured to procure an inquiry into these acts of Orientalfilibusterism; but the underhand influence of an unprincipled Administration, backed by an interested commercial clamour, was too strong for him; and the shameful usurpation has been justified.

Notwithstanding that Europeans have been settled for hundreds of years in the islands of the Indian Archipelago—ruling them, as we may almost say—it is astonishing how little is yet known of the great island of Borneo. Only its coasts have been traced, and these very imperfectly. The Dutch have made one or two expeditions into the interior; but much knowledge need not be expected from such trading hucksters as they. Their energies in the East have been expended throughout a period of two centuries, with no other apparent object than to promote dissension, wherever it was possible; and to annihilate every spark of freedom or nobility among the races who have had the misfortune to come in contact with them.

Notwithstanding their opportunities, they have done little to add to our knowledge of Borneo—which was about as well-known a hundred years ago as it is at the present hour.—Never was a subject more ripe for illustration than this magnificent island. It courts a monograph—such as has been given to Sumatra by Marsden, by Tennant to Ceylon, and to Java by Sir Stamford Raffles. Perhaps some one of my young readers may become the author of that monograph?

Teeming with the most gorgeous forms of tropical life—so rich infaunaandflora, that it might be almost regarded as a great zoological and botanical garden combined—it will well repay the scientific explorer, who may scarce find such another field on the face of the earth.

Our young hunters, in contemplating the grand tropical scenery of Borneo, were filled with admiration. Thesylvawas quite equal to anything they had witnessed on the Amazon; while thefauna—especially in quadrupeds andquadrumana—was far richer.

To one quadruped was their attention more especially directed; and I need hardly say that this was the Bornean bear—by far the most beautiful animal of the whole Bruin family. The Bornean bear is also the smallest of the family—in size, being even less than his near congener, the Malayan bear; though resembling the latter in many particulars. His fur is a jet black, with a muzzle of an orange-yellow colour, and a disc of still deeper orange upon the breast, bearing a certain resemblance to the figure of a heart. The hair is thickly and evenly set over his whole body—presenting the same uniform surface which characterises the black bear of North America, the two species of South America, and also his Malayan cousin—who inhabits the neighbouring islands of Sumatra and Java. For the latter, indeed, he is often taken; and many naturalists consider them as one species—though this is certainly an error. The Bornean bear is not only much less in bulk; but the deep orange-colour on his breast offers a permanent mark of distinction. In the Malayan bear there is also a marking on the breast; but it is of half-moon shape and whitish colour. Besides, the colour of the muzzle in the latter species is onlyyellowish, notyellow; and the animal altogether is far from being so handsome as the bear of Borneo.

Dr Horsfield, who had good opportunities of observing them both, has pointed out other essential characteristics, which prove conclusively that they are separate species; but the Doctor, guided by his love for generic distinctions, could not rest satisfied, without further ornamenting his task—by constituting for them a new genus, under the title ofHelarctos. There is no reason whatever for this inundation of generic names. It has served no good purpose; but, on the contrary, renders the study of natural history more complicated and obscure; and to no family of animals do these remarks more pointedly apply, than to that of the bears. So similar are all these quadrupeds to one another—so perfect is thefamily likenessbetween them—that to separate them into different genera is a mere pedantic conceit of the anatomists. There are about a dozen species in all; and the systematic naturalists—who do not even admit that number—have formed for the bears nearly as many genera as there are species,—among which may be mentioned the ridiculous titles ofProchilus, Melursus, Helarctos, and the like.

The Bornean bear is as much a true species ofursusas either the brown bear of Europe, the black bear of North America, or the black bears of the Cordilleras; and, indeed, to these last his habits assimilate him very closely—being, like them, a vegetarian in his diet, and a great lover of sweets.

Of hispenchantfor honey our young hunters had proof: for, it was while actually engaged in plundering a hive they first saw the Bornean bear. They were at the same time successful in effecting his capture—which is now to be described.

Chapter Fifty Six.The Tall Tapang.On their arrival at Sambos, our young hunters according to their usual custom, procured a native guide to direct them to the haunts of their game.In this case it was a Dyak who became their conductor—one of those who follow the business of bee-hunters; and who, from the very nature of their calling, are often brought into contact with the bears as well as the bees.Under the direction of the Dyak, our hunters made an excursion to a range of wooded hills, not far from Sambos, where the sun-bear was known to exist in great numbers; and where one was likely to be found almost at any time.As they were passing through the woods, they observed a very singular species of tree—indeed many species, that might be styled singular; but one pre-eminently so, that strongly arrested their attention. These trees did not grow in any great numbers together; but only two or three in one place; and more generally they stood singly—apart from any of their own kind, and surrounded by other trees of the forest. But though surrounded by other sorts, they were overtopped by none. On the contrary, their own tops rose above all the others to a vast height; and, what was most singular, they did not put forth a branch from their trunks until the latter had shot up to some feet above the “spray” of the surrounding forest. It was this peculiarity that had drawn the attention of our hunters. They might not have noticed it, had they kept on under the trees; but, on crossing a slight eminence—where the ground was open—they chanced to get a view of a number of these tall trees, and saw that they towered to a vast height, above all the others.Even their tops had the appearance of tall trees, standing thinly over the ground—the ground itself being neither more nor less than the contiguous heads of the other trees, that formed the forest. Had this forest been a law jungle, there would have been nothing extraordinary in what they saw; but our hunters had already observed that it was a true forest of grand trees—most of them a hundred feet in height. As the trees which had attracted their admiration rose full fifty feet above the tops of the others, it may be imagined what tall individuals they were. They were slender, too, in proportion to their height; and these stems rising two hundred feet, without a single offshoot or branch upon them, gave the trees the appearance of being still taller than they actually were—just as a thin clean spar, set upright, looks much taller than a hill or a house of the same elevation.We have said that there were no branches for the first hundred feet or so up the stem. Beyond that there were many and large limbs; which, diverging only slightly, and in a fastigiate manner, carried the tree nearly as much higher. These branches were regularly set; and covered with small, light, green leaves, forming a beautiful round head.The bark of this tree was white, and by piercing it with a knife, our hunters perceived that it was soft and milky. The wood, too, for some inches below the periphery was so spongy, that the blade of the knife penetrated into it almost as easily as into the stalk of a cabbage.The wood near the bark was of a white colour. Inwards it became harder; and had they been able to reach the heart, they would have found it very hard, and of a dark chocolate colour. On exposure to the air, this heart-wood turns black as ebony; and is used for similar purposes by the native Dyaks and Malays, who manufacture from it bracelets and otherbijouterie.On asking their Dyak guide the name of this remarkable tree, he said it was called thetapang. This, however, gave no information regarding its species; but Alexis, shortly after, in passing under one, observed some flowers that had fallen from its top; and having examined one of these, pronounced the tree a species officus—a very common genus in the islands of the Indian Archipelago.If our young hunters were filled with admiration at sight of this beautiful tree itself, they shortly after observed something that changed their admiration into wonder. On advancing towards one of the tapangs, they were struck with a singular serrated appearance that showed along the edge of its trunk—from the ground up to the base of its branching head. It looked as if a tall ladder was laid edgeways along the trunk of the tree—one side of it bidden under the bark! On drawing nearer, this appearance was explained. A ladder in reality it was; but one of rare construction; and which could not have been removed from the tree, without taking it entirely to pieces. On closer examination, this ladder proved to be a series of bamboo spikes—driven into the soft trunk in a slightly slanting direction, and about two feet apart, one above the other. The spikes themselves forming the rounds, were each about a foot in length; and held firmly in their places by a bamboo rail—to which their outer ends were attached by means of thin strips of rattan. This rail extended the whole way from the ground to the commencement of the branches.It was evident that this extemporised ladder had been constructed for the purpose of climbing the tree, but with what object? Upon this head their Dyak guide was the very man to enlighten them: since it was he himself who had made the ladder. The construction of such ladders, and afterwards the climbing of them, were the most essential branches of his calling—which, as already stated, was that of a bee-hunter. His account of the matter was as follows. A large wasp-like bee, which is calledlanyeh, builds its nests upon these tall tapangs. The nest consists of an accumulation of pale yellowish wax—which the bees attach to the under-side of the thick branches, so that these may shelter the hive from the rain. To reach these nests, the bamboo ladder is constructed, and the ascent is made—not for the purpose of obtaining the honey alone—but more on account of the wax, out of which the combs are formed. The lanyeh being as muchwaspasbee, produces a very small quantity of honey; and that, too, of inferior quality; but the wax is a valuable article, and of this several dollars’ worth may be procured from a single hive.It is dearly earned money—very dearly earned, indeed; but the poor Dyak bee-hunter follows the calling from motives not easily understood—since almost any other would afford him a living, with less labour and certainly with lesspain. Pain, indeed! he never succeeds in plundering the store of thelanyeh, without being severely stung by the insects; and though their sting is quite as painful as that of the common wasp, experience seems to have rendered the Dyak almost indifferent to it. He ascends the flimsy ladder without fear—carrying a blazing torch in his hand, and a cane basket on his back. By means of the torch, he ejects the bees from their aerial domiciles; and, then having torn their combs from the branches, he deposits them in his basket—the incensed insects all the while buzzing around his ears, and inflicting numerous wounds over his face and throat, as well as upon his naked arms! Very often he returns to the ground with his head swollen to twice the size it was previous to his going up! Not a very pleasant profession is that of a Bornean bee-hunter!

On their arrival at Sambos, our young hunters according to their usual custom, procured a native guide to direct them to the haunts of their game.

In this case it was a Dyak who became their conductor—one of those who follow the business of bee-hunters; and who, from the very nature of their calling, are often brought into contact with the bears as well as the bees.

Under the direction of the Dyak, our hunters made an excursion to a range of wooded hills, not far from Sambos, where the sun-bear was known to exist in great numbers; and where one was likely to be found almost at any time.

As they were passing through the woods, they observed a very singular species of tree—indeed many species, that might be styled singular; but one pre-eminently so, that strongly arrested their attention. These trees did not grow in any great numbers together; but only two or three in one place; and more generally they stood singly—apart from any of their own kind, and surrounded by other trees of the forest. But though surrounded by other sorts, they were overtopped by none. On the contrary, their own tops rose above all the others to a vast height; and, what was most singular, they did not put forth a branch from their trunks until the latter had shot up to some feet above the “spray” of the surrounding forest. It was this peculiarity that had drawn the attention of our hunters. They might not have noticed it, had they kept on under the trees; but, on crossing a slight eminence—where the ground was open—they chanced to get a view of a number of these tall trees, and saw that they towered to a vast height, above all the others.

Even their tops had the appearance of tall trees, standing thinly over the ground—the ground itself being neither more nor less than the contiguous heads of the other trees, that formed the forest. Had this forest been a law jungle, there would have been nothing extraordinary in what they saw; but our hunters had already observed that it was a true forest of grand trees—most of them a hundred feet in height. As the trees which had attracted their admiration rose full fifty feet above the tops of the others, it may be imagined what tall individuals they were. They were slender, too, in proportion to their height; and these stems rising two hundred feet, without a single offshoot or branch upon them, gave the trees the appearance of being still taller than they actually were—just as a thin clean spar, set upright, looks much taller than a hill or a house of the same elevation.

We have said that there were no branches for the first hundred feet or so up the stem. Beyond that there were many and large limbs; which, diverging only slightly, and in a fastigiate manner, carried the tree nearly as much higher. These branches were regularly set; and covered with small, light, green leaves, forming a beautiful round head.

The bark of this tree was white, and by piercing it with a knife, our hunters perceived that it was soft and milky. The wood, too, for some inches below the periphery was so spongy, that the blade of the knife penetrated into it almost as easily as into the stalk of a cabbage.

The wood near the bark was of a white colour. Inwards it became harder; and had they been able to reach the heart, they would have found it very hard, and of a dark chocolate colour. On exposure to the air, this heart-wood turns black as ebony; and is used for similar purposes by the native Dyaks and Malays, who manufacture from it bracelets and otherbijouterie.

On asking their Dyak guide the name of this remarkable tree, he said it was called thetapang. This, however, gave no information regarding its species; but Alexis, shortly after, in passing under one, observed some flowers that had fallen from its top; and having examined one of these, pronounced the tree a species officus—a very common genus in the islands of the Indian Archipelago.

If our young hunters were filled with admiration at sight of this beautiful tree itself, they shortly after observed something that changed their admiration into wonder. On advancing towards one of the tapangs, they were struck with a singular serrated appearance that showed along the edge of its trunk—from the ground up to the base of its branching head. It looked as if a tall ladder was laid edgeways along the trunk of the tree—one side of it bidden under the bark! On drawing nearer, this appearance was explained. A ladder in reality it was; but one of rare construction; and which could not have been removed from the tree, without taking it entirely to pieces. On closer examination, this ladder proved to be a series of bamboo spikes—driven into the soft trunk in a slightly slanting direction, and about two feet apart, one above the other. The spikes themselves forming the rounds, were each about a foot in length; and held firmly in their places by a bamboo rail—to which their outer ends were attached by means of thin strips of rattan. This rail extended the whole way from the ground to the commencement of the branches.

It was evident that this extemporised ladder had been constructed for the purpose of climbing the tree, but with what object? Upon this head their Dyak guide was the very man to enlighten them: since it was he himself who had made the ladder. The construction of such ladders, and afterwards the climbing of them, were the most essential branches of his calling—which, as already stated, was that of a bee-hunter. His account of the matter was as follows. A large wasp-like bee, which is calledlanyeh, builds its nests upon these tall tapangs. The nest consists of an accumulation of pale yellowish wax—which the bees attach to the under-side of the thick branches, so that these may shelter the hive from the rain. To reach these nests, the bamboo ladder is constructed, and the ascent is made—not for the purpose of obtaining the honey alone—but more on account of the wax, out of which the combs are formed. The lanyeh being as muchwaspasbee, produces a very small quantity of honey; and that, too, of inferior quality; but the wax is a valuable article, and of this several dollars’ worth may be procured from a single hive.

It is dearly earned money—very dearly earned, indeed; but the poor Dyak bee-hunter follows the calling from motives not easily understood—since almost any other would afford him a living, with less labour and certainly with lesspain. Pain, indeed! he never succeeds in plundering the store of thelanyeh, without being severely stung by the insects; and though their sting is quite as painful as that of the common wasp, experience seems to have rendered the Dyak almost indifferent to it. He ascends the flimsy ladder without fear—carrying a blazing torch in his hand, and a cane basket on his back. By means of the torch, he ejects the bees from their aerial domiciles; and, then having torn their combs from the branches, he deposits them in his basket—the incensed insects all the while buzzing around his ears, and inflicting numerous wounds over his face and throat, as well as upon his naked arms! Very often he returns to the ground with his head swollen to twice the size it was previous to his going up! Not a very pleasant profession is that of a Bornean bee-hunter!

Chapter Fifty Seven.The Bruang.As the party proceeded onward, they observed several other tapang-trees, with ladders attached to them; and at the bottom of one of these—which was the tallest they had yet seen—the guide made a halt.Taking off hiskris, and throwing to the ground an axe, which he had brought along, he commenced ascending the tree.Our hunters inquired his object. They knew it could not be either honey or wax. There had been a bees’ nest upon this tree—as the ladder told—but that had been removed long ago; and there now appeared nothing among the branches that should make it worth while to climb up to them. The answer of the bee-hunter explained his purpose. He was merely ascending to have a lookout over the forest—which in that neighbourhood could not be obtained by any other means than by the climbing of atapang.It was fearful to watch the man ascending to such a dizzy height, and with such a flimsy, uncertain support beneath his feet. It reminded them of what they had seen at the Palombière of the Pyrenees.The Dyak soon reached the top of the ladder; and for some ten minutes or more clung there—screwing his head around, and appearing to examine the forest on all sides. At length his head rested steadily upon his shoulders; and his gaze appeared to be fixed in one particular direction. He was too distant for the party at the bottom of the tree to note the expression upon his countenance; but his attitude told them that he had made some discovery.Shortly after he came down; and reported this discovery in laconic phrase, simply saying:—“Bruang—see him!”The hunters knew that “bruang” was the Malayan name for bear; and the coincidence of this word with thesobriquet“Bruin” had already led them to indulge in the speculation, as to whether the latter might not have originally come from the East?They did not stay to think of it then: for the guide, on regainingterra firma, at once started off—telling them to follow him.After going rapidly about a quarter of a mile through the woods, the Dyak began to advance more cautiously—carefully examining each of the trunks of thetapangsthat stood thinly scattered among the other trees.At one of these he was seen to make an abrupt halt, at the same instant turning his face upward. The young hunters, who were close behind him, could see that there were scratches upon the soft succulent bark, as if caused by the claws of some animal; but, almost as soon as they had made the observation, their eyes were directed to the animal itself.Away up on the tall tapang—just where its lowest limbs parted from the main stem—a black body could be distinguished. At such a distance it appeared not bigger than a squirrel; but, for all that, it was a Bornean bear; and the spot of vivid orange upon its breast could be seen shining like a coal of fire. Close by its snout a whitish mass appeared attached under the branches. This was the waxen domicile of thelanyehbees; and a slight mist-like cloud, which hung over the place, was the swarm itself—no doubt engaged in angry conflict with the plunderer of their hive.The little bear was too busy in the enjoyment of his luscious meal—that is, if the stings of thelanyehsallowed him to enjoy it—to look below; and for some minutes the hunters stood regarding him, without making a movement.Satisfied with their inspection, they were at length preparing to fire at him; when they were hindered by the Dyak—who, making signs to them to be silent, drew them all back from the tree.When out of sight of the bear, he counselled them to adopt a different plan. He said—what was true enough—that at such a height they might miss the bear; or, even if they should hit him, a bullet would scarce bring him down—unless it should strike him in a vital part. In the contingency of their missing, or only slightly wounding him, the animal would at once ascend further up into the tapang; and, hidden behind the leaves and branches, might defy them. He would there remain till hunger should force him down; and, since he was just in the act of having his meal, and had, no doubt, been eating from the time he was first espied—or longer, perhaps—he would be in a condition to stay in the tree, until their patience should be more than exhausted.True, they might fell the tree: they had an axe, and could soon cut the tree down—as the wood was soft; but the Dyak alleged that the bruang in such cases usually contrives to escape. The tapang rarely falls all the way, but only upon the tops of the trees that stand thickly round; and as the Bornean bear can climb and cling like a monkey, he is never shaken out of the branches, but springs from them into some other tree—among the thick leaves of which he may conceal himself; or, by getting to the ground, manage to steal off.His advice, therefore, was, that the hunters should conceal themselves behind the trunks of the surrounding trees; and, observing silence, wait till the bruang had finished his mellifluous repast, and feel inclined to come down. The Dyak said he would make his descent stern foremost; and, if they acted cautiously, they might have him at their mercy, and almost at the muzzles of their guns.There was only one of the three who was not agreeable to this plan; and that was the impatient Ivan; but, overruled by the advice of his brother, he also gave his consent to it.The three now took their respective stands behind three trees—that formed a sort of triangle around the tapang; and the guide, who had no gun, placed himself apart—holding his kris in readiness to finish off the bear, should the animal be only wounded.There was no danger to be dreaded from the encounter. The little bear of Borneo is only dangerous to the bees and white ants—or other insects—which he is accustomed to lick up with his long tongue. The human hunter has nothing to fear from him, any more than from a timid deer—though he will scratch, and growl, and bite, if too closely approached.It was just as the Dyak had predicted. The bruang, having finished his meal, was seen coming down the tree tail foremost; and in this way would no doubt have continued on to the ground; but, before he had got halfway down the trunk, Ivan’s impatience got the better of him; and the loud bang of his fowling-piece filled the forest with its echoes. Of course it was a bullet that Ivan had fired; and it appeared that he had missed. It was of little use firing also his shot barrel, though he did so immediately after.The effect of his shots was to frighten the bruang back up the tree; and at the first report he commenced ascending. Almost as rapidly as a cat he swarmed upward; and for a moment the chances of losing him appeared as two to one. But Alexis, who had been watching the restless movements of his brother, had prepared himself for such an issue; and, waiting till the bruang made a pause just under the branches, he fired his rifle with deadlier aim. The bear, in clutching to one of the limbs, had extended his body outward, and this gave the rifleman the chance of aiming at his head. The bullet must have told: for the bear, instead of ascending higher, was seen hanging down from the limb, as if he was clinging to it with enfeebled strength.At this moment the cannon-like report of Pouchskin’s fusil filled the woods with its booming echoes; and Bruin, suddenly relaxing his grasp, came bump down among the hunters—missing Pouchskin by about the eighth part of an inch! Lucky for the old grenadier there was even this much of a miss. It was as good as a mile to him. Had the bear’s body descended upon his shoulders, falling from such a height, it would have flattened him out as dead as the bear was himself; and Pouchskin, perceiving the danger from which he had so narrowly escaped, looked as perplexed and miserable as if some great misfortune had actually befallen him!

As the party proceeded onward, they observed several other tapang-trees, with ladders attached to them; and at the bottom of one of these—which was the tallest they had yet seen—the guide made a halt.

Taking off hiskris, and throwing to the ground an axe, which he had brought along, he commenced ascending the tree.

Our hunters inquired his object. They knew it could not be either honey or wax. There had been a bees’ nest upon this tree—as the ladder told—but that had been removed long ago; and there now appeared nothing among the branches that should make it worth while to climb up to them. The answer of the bee-hunter explained his purpose. He was merely ascending to have a lookout over the forest—which in that neighbourhood could not be obtained by any other means than by the climbing of atapang.

It was fearful to watch the man ascending to such a dizzy height, and with such a flimsy, uncertain support beneath his feet. It reminded them of what they had seen at the Palombière of the Pyrenees.

The Dyak soon reached the top of the ladder; and for some ten minutes or more clung there—screwing his head around, and appearing to examine the forest on all sides. At length his head rested steadily upon his shoulders; and his gaze appeared to be fixed in one particular direction. He was too distant for the party at the bottom of the tree to note the expression upon his countenance; but his attitude told them that he had made some discovery.

Shortly after he came down; and reported this discovery in laconic phrase, simply saying:—

“Bruang—see him!”

The hunters knew that “bruang” was the Malayan name for bear; and the coincidence of this word with thesobriquet“Bruin” had already led them to indulge in the speculation, as to whether the latter might not have originally come from the East?

They did not stay to think of it then: for the guide, on regainingterra firma, at once started off—telling them to follow him.

After going rapidly about a quarter of a mile through the woods, the Dyak began to advance more cautiously—carefully examining each of the trunks of thetapangsthat stood thinly scattered among the other trees.

At one of these he was seen to make an abrupt halt, at the same instant turning his face upward. The young hunters, who were close behind him, could see that there were scratches upon the soft succulent bark, as if caused by the claws of some animal; but, almost as soon as they had made the observation, their eyes were directed to the animal itself.

Away up on the tall tapang—just where its lowest limbs parted from the main stem—a black body could be distinguished. At such a distance it appeared not bigger than a squirrel; but, for all that, it was a Bornean bear; and the spot of vivid orange upon its breast could be seen shining like a coal of fire. Close by its snout a whitish mass appeared attached under the branches. This was the waxen domicile of thelanyehbees; and a slight mist-like cloud, which hung over the place, was the swarm itself—no doubt engaged in angry conflict with the plunderer of their hive.

The little bear was too busy in the enjoyment of his luscious meal—that is, if the stings of thelanyehsallowed him to enjoy it—to look below; and for some minutes the hunters stood regarding him, without making a movement.

Satisfied with their inspection, they were at length preparing to fire at him; when they were hindered by the Dyak—who, making signs to them to be silent, drew them all back from the tree.

When out of sight of the bear, he counselled them to adopt a different plan. He said—what was true enough—that at such a height they might miss the bear; or, even if they should hit him, a bullet would scarce bring him down—unless it should strike him in a vital part. In the contingency of their missing, or only slightly wounding him, the animal would at once ascend further up into the tapang; and, hidden behind the leaves and branches, might defy them. He would there remain till hunger should force him down; and, since he was just in the act of having his meal, and had, no doubt, been eating from the time he was first espied—or longer, perhaps—he would be in a condition to stay in the tree, until their patience should be more than exhausted.

True, they might fell the tree: they had an axe, and could soon cut the tree down—as the wood was soft; but the Dyak alleged that the bruang in such cases usually contrives to escape. The tapang rarely falls all the way, but only upon the tops of the trees that stand thickly round; and as the Bornean bear can climb and cling like a monkey, he is never shaken out of the branches, but springs from them into some other tree—among the thick leaves of which he may conceal himself; or, by getting to the ground, manage to steal off.

His advice, therefore, was, that the hunters should conceal themselves behind the trunks of the surrounding trees; and, observing silence, wait till the bruang had finished his mellifluous repast, and feel inclined to come down. The Dyak said he would make his descent stern foremost; and, if they acted cautiously, they might have him at their mercy, and almost at the muzzles of their guns.

There was only one of the three who was not agreeable to this plan; and that was the impatient Ivan; but, overruled by the advice of his brother, he also gave his consent to it.

The three now took their respective stands behind three trees—that formed a sort of triangle around the tapang; and the guide, who had no gun, placed himself apart—holding his kris in readiness to finish off the bear, should the animal be only wounded.

There was no danger to be dreaded from the encounter. The little bear of Borneo is only dangerous to the bees and white ants—or other insects—which he is accustomed to lick up with his long tongue. The human hunter has nothing to fear from him, any more than from a timid deer—though he will scratch, and growl, and bite, if too closely approached.

It was just as the Dyak had predicted. The bruang, having finished his meal, was seen coming down the tree tail foremost; and in this way would no doubt have continued on to the ground; but, before he had got halfway down the trunk, Ivan’s impatience got the better of him; and the loud bang of his fowling-piece filled the forest with its echoes. Of course it was a bullet that Ivan had fired; and it appeared that he had missed. It was of little use firing also his shot barrel, though he did so immediately after.

The effect of his shots was to frighten the bruang back up the tree; and at the first report he commenced ascending. Almost as rapidly as a cat he swarmed upward; and for a moment the chances of losing him appeared as two to one. But Alexis, who had been watching the restless movements of his brother, had prepared himself for such an issue; and, waiting till the bruang made a pause just under the branches, he fired his rifle with deadlier aim. The bear, in clutching to one of the limbs, had extended his body outward, and this gave the rifleman the chance of aiming at his head. The bullet must have told: for the bear, instead of ascending higher, was seen hanging down from the limb, as if he was clinging to it with enfeebled strength.

At this moment the cannon-like report of Pouchskin’s fusil filled the woods with its booming echoes; and Bruin, suddenly relaxing his grasp, came bump down among the hunters—missing Pouchskin by about the eighth part of an inch! Lucky for the old grenadier there was even this much of a miss. It was as good as a mile to him. Had the bear’s body descended upon his shoulders, falling from such a height, it would have flattened him out as dead as the bear was himself; and Pouchskin, perceiving the danger from which he had so narrowly escaped, looked as perplexed and miserable as if some great misfortune had actually befallen him!

Chapter Fifty Eight.The Cabbage-Eater.Our heroes now, having accomplished their mission to Borneo, were about to cross over to the island of Sumatra; in which—as well as in Java, or upon the mainland of Malacca—they would find the other sun-bear, known as theursus malayanus; but previous to their departure from Sambos, they obtained information that led them to believe that this species also inhabited the island of Borneo. It was more rarely met with than the orange-breasted variety; but the natives, generally better guides than the anatomists in the matter of specific distinctions, stoutly maintained that there were two kinds; and the Dyak bee-hunter—whose interest had been secured by the ample reward already bestowed upon him—promised them, that if they would go with him to a certain district of country, he would show them the larger species of bruang. From the man’s description of it Alexis easily recognised theursus malayanus—the species they had killed being theursus euryspilus.Indeed, had there been any doubt about this matter, it would have been set at rest, by what our travellers saw in the streets of Sambos. There both species were exhibited by the itinerant jugglers—for both the sun-bears can be easily tamed and trained—and these men stated that they had procured the “big bruang,” in the woods of Borneo.Since, then, he was there to be found, why go to Sumatra in search of him? They had still travelling enough before them; and they were beginning to get tired of it. It was natural that—after so long an absence and the endurance of so many perils and hardships—they should be longing for home, and the comforts of that fine palace on the banks of the Neva.They resolved, therefore, to accompany the Dyak guide on a new expedition.They were a whole day upon the journey; and just before nightfall reached the place, where the man expected to fall in with the big bruangs. Of course, they could not commence their search before morning. They baited, therefore, and formed camp—their Dyak guide erecting a bamboo hut in less than an hour, and thatching it over with the huge leaves of the wildmusaceae.The place where they had halted was in the midst of a magnificent grove, or rather a forest, of palms; of that kind callednibongby the natives, which is a species of the genusarenga. It is one of the “cabbage” palms; that is, its young leaves before expanding are eaten by the natives as a vegetable after the manner in which Europeans use cabbage. They are of a delicate whiteness, with a sweet nutty flavour; and, in point of excellence, are even superior to those of the cocoa-nut, or even the West India cabbage palm (areca oleracea). But the nibong is put by the Borneans and other natives of the Indian Archipelago to a great variety of uses. Its round stem is employed as uprights and rafters for their houses. Split into lathes, it serves for the flooring. Sugar can be obtained from the saccharine juice of its spadix, which also ferments into an intoxicating beverage; and sago exists in abundance within the trunk. Pens and arrows for blow-guns are also made from the midribs of the side leaves; and, in fact, thearenga saccharifera, like many other palms, serves for an endless variety of purposes.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 trueursus 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 wildpisang, 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 thearenga, and had the gratification of finding that theruseof 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 anotherbruang, but arimau 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.

Our heroes now, having accomplished their mission to Borneo, were about to cross over to the island of Sumatra; in which—as well as in Java, or upon the mainland of Malacca—they would find the other sun-bear, known as theursus malayanus; but previous to their departure from Sambos, they obtained information that led them to believe that this species also inhabited the island of Borneo. It was more rarely met with than the orange-breasted variety; but the natives, generally better guides than the anatomists in the matter of specific distinctions, stoutly maintained that there were two kinds; and the Dyak bee-hunter—whose interest had been secured by the ample reward already bestowed upon him—promised them, that if they would go with him to a certain district of country, he would show them the larger species of bruang. From the man’s description of it Alexis easily recognised theursus malayanus—the species they had killed being theursus euryspilus.

Indeed, had there been any doubt about this matter, it would have been set at rest, by what our travellers saw in the streets of Sambos. There both species were exhibited by the itinerant jugglers—for both the sun-bears can be easily tamed and trained—and these men stated that they had procured the “big bruang,” in the woods of Borneo.

Since, then, he was there to be found, why go to Sumatra in search of him? They had still travelling enough before them; and they were beginning to get tired of it. It was natural that—after so long an absence and the endurance of so many perils and hardships—they should be longing for home, and the comforts of that fine palace on the banks of the Neva.

They resolved, therefore, to accompany the Dyak guide on a new expedition.

They were a whole day upon the journey; and just before nightfall reached the place, where the man expected to fall in with the big bruangs. Of course, they could not commence their search before morning. They baited, therefore, and formed camp—their Dyak guide erecting a bamboo hut in less than an hour, and thatching it over with the huge leaves of the wildmusaceae.

The place where they had halted was in the midst of a magnificent grove, or rather a forest, of palms; of that kind callednibongby the natives, which is a species of the genusarenga. It is one of the “cabbage” palms; that is, its young leaves before expanding are eaten by the natives as a vegetable after the manner in which Europeans use cabbage. They are of a delicate whiteness, with a sweet nutty flavour; and, in point of excellence, are even superior to those of the cocoa-nut, or even the West India cabbage palm (areca oleracea). But the nibong is put by the Borneans and other natives of the Indian Archipelago to a great variety of uses. Its round stem is employed as uprights and rafters for their houses. Split into lathes, it serves for the flooring. Sugar can be obtained from the saccharine juice of its spadix, which also ferments into an intoxicating beverage; and sago exists in abundance within the trunk. Pens and arrows for blow-guns are also made from the midribs of the side leaves; and, in fact, thearenga saccharifera, like many other palms, serves for an endless variety of purposes.

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 trueursus 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 wildpisang, 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 thearenga, and had the gratification of finding that theruseof 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 anotherbruang, but arimau 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 routefor 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 inhabitat; 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 genusursus—but must, forsooth, create a new one for its special accommodation; and it now figures in zoological catalogues as aprochilus—theprochilus 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 strengthenthis 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 theursus 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 ofursus malayanus, euryspilus, americanus, ornatus, andfrugilegus.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 theedentataof the ant-eating tribe—to enable it to “lick up” thetermites.Its great curved claws, which bear a very striking resemblance to those of the ant-eaters—especially the largetamanoirof 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 comicrôle, 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. Hishabitatproves 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,videtteswere 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 theTeräi. 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 Teräi 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 Teräi! 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 Teräi 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.

En routefor 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 inhabitat; 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 genusursus—but must, forsooth, create a new one for its special accommodation; and it now figures in zoological catalogues as aprochilus—theprochilus 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 strengthenthis 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 theursus 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 ofursus malayanus, euryspilus, americanus, ornatus, andfrugilegus.

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 theedentataof the ant-eating tribe—to enable it to “lick up” thetermites.

Its great curved claws, which bear a very striking resemblance to those of the ant-eaters—especially the largetamanoirof 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 comicrôle, 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. Hishabitatproves 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,videtteswere 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 theTeräi. 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 Teräi 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 Teräi! 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 Teräi 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.

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