Chapter Thirteen.A Subnivean Escape.Pouchskin proceeded to describe the manner of his escape—his young masters listening to him with great interest—although they already guessed pretty nearly how it had been accomplished. Still there were some points not so clear to them, which the old guardsman detailed.In the first place, he had retreated from the bear, not because he believed himself vanquished, but because he had lost his knife. Its handle, wet with blood, had slipped from his grasp; and he could not tell what had become of it! Finding himself unarmed, of course his next thought was to get out of Bruin’s way, for what could an unarmed man do in the embrace of a bear—and such a bear?He then turned and ran; but he had quite forgotten the dangerous character of the snow-bed—the bridge that had refused to carry him before; though, indeed, over it was the only direction he could have taken. Had he attempted to run to the right or left, his course must have been up-hill; and the bear would have been certain to overhaul him in a couple of leaps. After all, he had taken the proper direction; and, as it proved in the end, his breaking through was the most fortunate accident that could possibly have happened to him. Had it not chanced so, he would, in all probability, have fallen into the clutches of the bear, and been torn to shreds by the infuriated animal.Well, on touching bottom, he felt the water among his feet, and just then remembered how it had been before. He remembered the hollow archway under the snow, and, seeing the bear above, and in the act of being precipitated on top of him, he suddenly ducked his head, and pushed himself into the tunnel. He could feel the bear falling upon him behind, and the weight of the animal’s body, as it was precipitated downwards, forced him still further under the snow-bridge.Once in, he continued on down the stream, working both with head and arms, and clearing a space that would allow his body to pass. The soft snow was easily pressed out of the way; and, after going as far as he deemed necessary, he turned to the right, and worked his way upward to the surface.It was while he was thus engaged that Alexis had been squaring accounts with the bear. The fierce creature had not followed Pouchskin under the snow. In all probability, his sudden “souse” into the water had astonished Bruin himself;—from that moment all his thoughts were to provide for his own safety, and, with this intention, he was endeavouring to get back to the surface of the snowdrift, when Alexis first caught sight of his snout.At the moment that Alexis fired the final shot, or just a little after it, Pouchskin had popped up his head through the congealed crust of the snow, and elicited from Ivan those peals of laughter that had so much astonished his brother. Pouchskin, however, had not come unscathed out of the “scrimmage.” On examining the old guardsman, it was found that the bear had clawed him severely; and a piece of skin, of several inches square was peeled from his left shoulder. The flesh, too, was rather badly lacerated.Alexis was not without some surgical skill; and, without suffering a moment to be lost, he dressed the wound in the best manner possible under the circumstances. A clean handkerchief, which Ivan chanced to have, served as a covering for the scar; and this being tied on securely, with a strip torn from the sleeve of Pouchskin’s own shirt, left the wounded guardsman in a condition to recover, as soon as it might please nature to permit. Nothing more could have been done by the most “skilful practitioner.”Their next business was to look after the bear. On going back to the hole, and, gazing into it, the animal, as Alexis had anticipated, was quite dead; and the water, partially dammed up by the huge carcass, was flowing over it.Ivan, who had hitherto done least of all to secure the prize, now became the most active of the three; and, leaping down upon the body of the great brute, he looped the rope around one of its hind legs, and then stood on one side to help the rest in raising it upward.Alexis and Pouchskin commenced hauling on the other end of the rope, and the vast mass slowly ascended upward, Ivan pushing from below, and guiding it past the inequalities of the snow. It would have been a different sort of a task, to have hauled Bruin out of such a hole three months earlier in the season; that is, about the time he had lain down for his wintersiesta. Then he would have turned six or seven hundred pounds upon the scales, whereas at this time he was not more than half the weight. His skin, however, was in just as good condition as if he had been fat; and it was this, and not his carcass, that our hunters cared for.After some tough pulling, accompanied by a good deal of shouting from Ivan at the bottom of the hole, the huge carcass was dragged forth, and lay at full length along the frozen snow. It was still necessary to raise it to the branch of a tree, in order that it might be skinned in a proper manner. This however, could be easily accomplished by means of the rope.Up to this time Pouchskin had been puzzled about the loss of his knife. Everywhere he looked for it; but it was nowhere to be found. All the surfaceoverwhich he had danced with the bear was carefully examined, and the snow scraped up to the depth of several inches. There was the blood of the bear, and some of Pouchskin’s own too, but no knife! Could it have got into the water? No. Pouchskin declared that he had dropped it near the edge of the snow-bed: for this accident, as already stated, had been the cause of his retreat from the conflict.It was only when the great carcass was being hauled up to the branch, that the lost knife made its appearance. Then, to the astonishment of the young hunters, as well as to Pouchskin himself, the knife was seen sticking in the shoulder of the bear! There it had been when the haft slipped from his hands, and there had it remained. No doubt that stab would have given the bear his death-blow; but still more fatal had been the bullet from the rifle of Alexis, which had passed through Bruin’s brain, crushing his skull like a shell!The skinning of the animal was accomplished with great care; for the coat was one of the finest, and the boys knew with what interest it would be regarded on its arrival at the palace Grodonoff. They spared no pains, therefore, in removing it from the carcass; and after the work was finished, it was neatly folded up, tied with the rope, and placed like a knapsack on Pouchskin’s shoulders.Of the carcass they took no heed; but leaving it to the wolves, the gluttons, or any other carnivorous creatures that might chance to stray that way, they turned back up the ravine; and, striking off on a path that led towards the tent of the Laplander, reached their smoky quarters in good time for dinner.
Pouchskin proceeded to describe the manner of his escape—his young masters listening to him with great interest—although they already guessed pretty nearly how it had been accomplished. Still there were some points not so clear to them, which the old guardsman detailed.
In the first place, he had retreated from the bear, not because he believed himself vanquished, but because he had lost his knife. Its handle, wet with blood, had slipped from his grasp; and he could not tell what had become of it! Finding himself unarmed, of course his next thought was to get out of Bruin’s way, for what could an unarmed man do in the embrace of a bear—and such a bear?
He then turned and ran; but he had quite forgotten the dangerous character of the snow-bed—the bridge that had refused to carry him before; though, indeed, over it was the only direction he could have taken. Had he attempted to run to the right or left, his course must have been up-hill; and the bear would have been certain to overhaul him in a couple of leaps. After all, he had taken the proper direction; and, as it proved in the end, his breaking through was the most fortunate accident that could possibly have happened to him. Had it not chanced so, he would, in all probability, have fallen into the clutches of the bear, and been torn to shreds by the infuriated animal.
Well, on touching bottom, he felt the water among his feet, and just then remembered how it had been before. He remembered the hollow archway under the snow, and, seeing the bear above, and in the act of being precipitated on top of him, he suddenly ducked his head, and pushed himself into the tunnel. He could feel the bear falling upon him behind, and the weight of the animal’s body, as it was precipitated downwards, forced him still further under the snow-bridge.
Once in, he continued on down the stream, working both with head and arms, and clearing a space that would allow his body to pass. The soft snow was easily pressed out of the way; and, after going as far as he deemed necessary, he turned to the right, and worked his way upward to the surface.
It was while he was thus engaged that Alexis had been squaring accounts with the bear. The fierce creature had not followed Pouchskin under the snow. In all probability, his sudden “souse” into the water had astonished Bruin himself;—from that moment all his thoughts were to provide for his own safety, and, with this intention, he was endeavouring to get back to the surface of the snowdrift, when Alexis first caught sight of his snout.
At the moment that Alexis fired the final shot, or just a little after it, Pouchskin had popped up his head through the congealed crust of the snow, and elicited from Ivan those peals of laughter that had so much astonished his brother. Pouchskin, however, had not come unscathed out of the “scrimmage.” On examining the old guardsman, it was found that the bear had clawed him severely; and a piece of skin, of several inches square was peeled from his left shoulder. The flesh, too, was rather badly lacerated.
Alexis was not without some surgical skill; and, without suffering a moment to be lost, he dressed the wound in the best manner possible under the circumstances. A clean handkerchief, which Ivan chanced to have, served as a covering for the scar; and this being tied on securely, with a strip torn from the sleeve of Pouchskin’s own shirt, left the wounded guardsman in a condition to recover, as soon as it might please nature to permit. Nothing more could have been done by the most “skilful practitioner.”
Their next business was to look after the bear. On going back to the hole, and, gazing into it, the animal, as Alexis had anticipated, was quite dead; and the water, partially dammed up by the huge carcass, was flowing over it.
Ivan, who had hitherto done least of all to secure the prize, now became the most active of the three; and, leaping down upon the body of the great brute, he looped the rope around one of its hind legs, and then stood on one side to help the rest in raising it upward.
Alexis and Pouchskin commenced hauling on the other end of the rope, and the vast mass slowly ascended upward, Ivan pushing from below, and guiding it past the inequalities of the snow. It would have been a different sort of a task, to have hauled Bruin out of such a hole three months earlier in the season; that is, about the time he had lain down for his wintersiesta. Then he would have turned six or seven hundred pounds upon the scales, whereas at this time he was not more than half the weight. His skin, however, was in just as good condition as if he had been fat; and it was this, and not his carcass, that our hunters cared for.
After some tough pulling, accompanied by a good deal of shouting from Ivan at the bottom of the hole, the huge carcass was dragged forth, and lay at full length along the frozen snow. It was still necessary to raise it to the branch of a tree, in order that it might be skinned in a proper manner. This however, could be easily accomplished by means of the rope.
Up to this time Pouchskin had been puzzled about the loss of his knife. Everywhere he looked for it; but it was nowhere to be found. All the surfaceoverwhich he had danced with the bear was carefully examined, and the snow scraped up to the depth of several inches. There was the blood of the bear, and some of Pouchskin’s own too, but no knife! Could it have got into the water? No. Pouchskin declared that he had dropped it near the edge of the snow-bed: for this accident, as already stated, had been the cause of his retreat from the conflict.
It was only when the great carcass was being hauled up to the branch, that the lost knife made its appearance. Then, to the astonishment of the young hunters, as well as to Pouchskin himself, the knife was seen sticking in the shoulder of the bear! There it had been when the haft slipped from his hands, and there had it remained. No doubt that stab would have given the bear his death-blow; but still more fatal had been the bullet from the rifle of Alexis, which had passed through Bruin’s brain, crushing his skull like a shell!
The skinning of the animal was accomplished with great care; for the coat was one of the finest, and the boys knew with what interest it would be regarded on its arrival at the palace Grodonoff. They spared no pains, therefore, in removing it from the carcass; and after the work was finished, it was neatly folded up, tied with the rope, and placed like a knapsack on Pouchskin’s shoulders.
Of the carcass they took no heed; but leaving it to the wolves, the gluttons, or any other carnivorous creatures that might chance to stray that way, they turned back up the ravine; and, striking off on a path that led towards the tent of the Laplander, reached their smoky quarters in good time for dinner.
Chapter Fourteen.Ringing the Bear.The bear thus killed was the trueursus arctos, or brown bear—the latter name being given to him from the colour of his fur, which, in ninety-nine cases out of every hundred, is a uniform brown. The name, however, is not appropriate, since there are other brown bears belonging to very different species.Having secured his robe, as we have seen, the next call of our hunters was to obtain a skin from the body of his black brother. They were well aware that this would not be so easy of accomplishment, from the simple fact, that theursus niger, or “European black bear,” is one of the rarest of animals—indeed, so few of them are obtained, that out of a thousand skins of the European bear that pass through the hands of the furriers, not more than two or three will be found to be of the black variety.It is true that they were just in the country where they would be most likely to fall in with one; for it is only in the northern zone of Europe (and Asia also) where the black ones are found. This variety is not encountered in the southern ranges of mountains in the Alps, Pyrenees, and Carpathians. Whether this black bear is a distinct species was not a question with them. They knew that by most naturalists he is recognised as a variety—by some a permanent one. It was therefore certainly included in the conditions of their father’s letter; and a skin must be procuredcoute qui coute. This done, they would have no further business in Lapland, but might proceed at once to the Pyrenees.It was not necessary to procure skins of the grey or silver bear, nor that with the white ring round its neck—known as the ringed or collared bear. As Alexis had said, it is acknowledged by all who know theursus arctoshis native haunts, that these are mere accidental varieties. The true “collared bear” (ursus collaris) is not found in Lapland,—only in northern Asia and Kamschatka, and it is he that is known as the “Siberian bear.” The boys therefore were not “bound” by their covenant to procure these varieties; but for all that, they were gratified at going beyond the strict letter of their agreement, which good luck enabled them to do; for while scouring the country in search of theursus niger, they chanced upon another brown bear, a female, with three cubs, one of which was brown, like the mother; the second had the white ring round its neck, and the third was as grey as a little badger! All four were taken; and the young hunters not only had the gratification of being able to send the different varieties of skins to their father’s museum, but an additional satisfaction was afforded to Alexis, the naturalist, by this grand family capture. It proved incontestably, what he already suspected, and what, moreover, the native peasants and hunters had told him, that the “silver” and “ringed” bears were identical with theursus arctos.Notwithstanding their joy at the capture of the old she, and her parti-coloured pets, they were yet very anxious about the black bear. They had hunted all the forests and mountains for miles around, and had even succeeded in killing several other specimens of “Brownie,” but no “Blackie” was to be met with.It had now got known among the native hunters what they were in search of; and, as they had offered a liberal reward to any one who could guide them to the haunt or den of a real black bear, it was not unlikely they should soon hear of one.In this expectation they were not deceived. About a week after the offer had been proclaimed, a Finnish peasant (one of the Quäns, as they are called) made his appearance at their headquarters, add announced that he had “ringed” a black bear. It was welcome tidings; and the young Russians at once proceeded to the indicated place.It may be necessary to explain what the man meant when he told them he had “ringed” the bear; since that is a phrase of specific meaning throughout the countries of Scandinavia. In these countries, when the track of a bear is observed in the snow, it is followed up by the person who has discovered it, with the intention of “ringing” the animal—that is, ascertaining as near as maybe, the locality in which it may have halted from its rambles, and lain down to rest. Of course, if the person thus trailing the bear be a hunter—or if it be a party of hunters actually engaged in the chase, they will keep on until they have found the bear in his den. But in nine cases out of ten, bears are not pursued in this fashion. Generally, their haunt—whether temporary or otherwise—has been ascertained beforehand, by some shepherd or woodcutter, and a party of hunters then proceeds to the spot, and makes a surround of the animal before rousing him from his lair.This “surround,” however, has nothing whatever to do with the “ringing” of the bear, which is an operation of a different character, and is performed by the party who has first chanced upon the tracks. The mode of proceeding is simply to follow the trail, orspar, of the bear as silently as possible—until the tracker has reason to believe that the animal is not far off. This he discovers by observing that thesparno longer trends in a direct line, but doubles about in zigzags, and backward turnings, upon itself; for when a bear intends to lie down, it is his habit to quarter the ground in every direction, precisely as does the hare before squatting in her form.Many other animals observe a similar caution before going to rest.The bear-tracker having reached this point, then leaves the track altogether, and makes a circuit round that part of the forest within which he suspects Bruin to have couched himself. This circuit is of greater or less diameter, according to circumstances—depending on the season of the year, nature of the ground, and a variety of other considerations. While going round this circle, if it should be seen that the track of the bear leads beyond it, then that “ring” is given up, and another commenced further forward. If, on the other hand, the tracker gets round to the place whence he first started, without again coming upon thespar, he concludes that the bear must be lying somewhere within the circumference which he has traced, and will there be found. This, then, is termed “ringing” the bear.You may wonder why the man does not follow up thesparuntil he actually reaches the den or lair of the animal. That is easily explained. The tracker is not always a bear-hunter, and even if he were, it would not be prudent for him to approach a bear without assistants, who, by surrounding the animal, should cut off its retreat. Were he to go forward direct to the bear’s hiding-place, Bruin would, in all probability, discover him before he could approach within shot; and, making a bolt, might carry him a chase of ten or twelve miles before stopping. The brown bear often does so.The tracker, having ascertained the circle within which the animal has made its temporary resting-place, next proceeds to warn the hunters of his village or settlement; and then a large party go out for the destruction of the common enemy. They deploy around the ring, and closing inward, are pretty sure to find the bear either asleep in his den, or just starting out of it, and trying to get off. The “ring” will usually keep for several days—sometimes for weeks—for the bear, especially in winter time, will remain in the vicinity of his lair for long spells at a time. Frequently several days will elapse before any hunters arrive on the ground; but, if the bear should have strayed off in the mean time, his tracks in the snow will still enable them to follow and find him. If, however, fresh snow should have fallen, after the bear has made his exit from the marked circle, then, of course, the search will prove a blank, and Bruin make his escape—at least out of that “ring.”One of the most singular features of this custom is, that he who has succeeded in “ringing” a bear, is regarded as the lawful proprietor of the animal—or rather of the “ring”—and can dispose of his right to any hunting party he pleases. Of course he cannot guarantee the killing of the bear: that is left to the skill of the hunters, who must take their chance. The tracker only answers for a bear being found within a prescribed circle, of which he gives proof by pointing out thespar. With such conditions, established by long and well-observed custom, it will easily be believed that the woodcutters and other peasants make a market by ringing bears, frequently disposing of the “ring” to the more ardent hunters for a very considerable price! It was just with this view that the Finnish peasant had put himself in communication with our young Russians; and as the bounty they had already offered far exceeded the usual purchase-money in such cases, the Quän at once closed with their offer, and conducted them to the “ring.”
The bear thus killed was the trueursus arctos, or brown bear—the latter name being given to him from the colour of his fur, which, in ninety-nine cases out of every hundred, is a uniform brown. The name, however, is not appropriate, since there are other brown bears belonging to very different species.
Having secured his robe, as we have seen, the next call of our hunters was to obtain a skin from the body of his black brother. They were well aware that this would not be so easy of accomplishment, from the simple fact, that theursus niger, or “European black bear,” is one of the rarest of animals—indeed, so few of them are obtained, that out of a thousand skins of the European bear that pass through the hands of the furriers, not more than two or three will be found to be of the black variety.
It is true that they were just in the country where they would be most likely to fall in with one; for it is only in the northern zone of Europe (and Asia also) where the black ones are found. This variety is not encountered in the southern ranges of mountains in the Alps, Pyrenees, and Carpathians. Whether this black bear is a distinct species was not a question with them. They knew that by most naturalists he is recognised as a variety—by some a permanent one. It was therefore certainly included in the conditions of their father’s letter; and a skin must be procuredcoute qui coute. This done, they would have no further business in Lapland, but might proceed at once to the Pyrenees.
It was not necessary to procure skins of the grey or silver bear, nor that with the white ring round its neck—known as the ringed or collared bear. As Alexis had said, it is acknowledged by all who know theursus arctoshis native haunts, that these are mere accidental varieties. The true “collared bear” (ursus collaris) is not found in Lapland,—only in northern Asia and Kamschatka, and it is he that is known as the “Siberian bear.” The boys therefore were not “bound” by their covenant to procure these varieties; but for all that, they were gratified at going beyond the strict letter of their agreement, which good luck enabled them to do; for while scouring the country in search of theursus niger, they chanced upon another brown bear, a female, with three cubs, one of which was brown, like the mother; the second had the white ring round its neck, and the third was as grey as a little badger! All four were taken; and the young hunters not only had the gratification of being able to send the different varieties of skins to their father’s museum, but an additional satisfaction was afforded to Alexis, the naturalist, by this grand family capture. It proved incontestably, what he already suspected, and what, moreover, the native peasants and hunters had told him, that the “silver” and “ringed” bears were identical with theursus arctos.
Notwithstanding their joy at the capture of the old she, and her parti-coloured pets, they were yet very anxious about the black bear. They had hunted all the forests and mountains for miles around, and had even succeeded in killing several other specimens of “Brownie,” but no “Blackie” was to be met with.
It had now got known among the native hunters what they were in search of; and, as they had offered a liberal reward to any one who could guide them to the haunt or den of a real black bear, it was not unlikely they should soon hear of one.
In this expectation they were not deceived. About a week after the offer had been proclaimed, a Finnish peasant (one of the Quäns, as they are called) made his appearance at their headquarters, add announced that he had “ringed” a black bear. It was welcome tidings; and the young Russians at once proceeded to the indicated place.
It may be necessary to explain what the man meant when he told them he had “ringed” the bear; since that is a phrase of specific meaning throughout the countries of Scandinavia. In these countries, when the track of a bear is observed in the snow, it is followed up by the person who has discovered it, with the intention of “ringing” the animal—that is, ascertaining as near as maybe, the locality in which it may have halted from its rambles, and lain down to rest. Of course, if the person thus trailing the bear be a hunter—or if it be a party of hunters actually engaged in the chase, they will keep on until they have found the bear in his den. But in nine cases out of ten, bears are not pursued in this fashion. Generally, their haunt—whether temporary or otherwise—has been ascertained beforehand, by some shepherd or woodcutter, and a party of hunters then proceeds to the spot, and makes a surround of the animal before rousing him from his lair.
This “surround,” however, has nothing whatever to do with the “ringing” of the bear, which is an operation of a different character, and is performed by the party who has first chanced upon the tracks. The mode of proceeding is simply to follow the trail, orspar, of the bear as silently as possible—until the tracker has reason to believe that the animal is not far off. This he discovers by observing that thesparno longer trends in a direct line, but doubles about in zigzags, and backward turnings, upon itself; for when a bear intends to lie down, it is his habit to quarter the ground in every direction, precisely as does the hare before squatting in her form.
Many other animals observe a similar caution before going to rest.
The bear-tracker having reached this point, then leaves the track altogether, and makes a circuit round that part of the forest within which he suspects Bruin to have couched himself. This circuit is of greater or less diameter, according to circumstances—depending on the season of the year, nature of the ground, and a variety of other considerations. While going round this circle, if it should be seen that the track of the bear leads beyond it, then that “ring” is given up, and another commenced further forward. If, on the other hand, the tracker gets round to the place whence he first started, without again coming upon thespar, he concludes that the bear must be lying somewhere within the circumference which he has traced, and will there be found. This, then, is termed “ringing” the bear.
You may wonder why the man does not follow up thesparuntil he actually reaches the den or lair of the animal. That is easily explained. The tracker is not always a bear-hunter, and even if he were, it would not be prudent for him to approach a bear without assistants, who, by surrounding the animal, should cut off its retreat. Were he to go forward direct to the bear’s hiding-place, Bruin would, in all probability, discover him before he could approach within shot; and, making a bolt, might carry him a chase of ten or twelve miles before stopping. The brown bear often does so.
The tracker, having ascertained the circle within which the animal has made its temporary resting-place, next proceeds to warn the hunters of his village or settlement; and then a large party go out for the destruction of the common enemy. They deploy around the ring, and closing inward, are pretty sure to find the bear either asleep in his den, or just starting out of it, and trying to get off. The “ring” will usually keep for several days—sometimes for weeks—for the bear, especially in winter time, will remain in the vicinity of his lair for long spells at a time. Frequently several days will elapse before any hunters arrive on the ground; but, if the bear should have strayed off in the mean time, his tracks in the snow will still enable them to follow and find him. If, however, fresh snow should have fallen, after the bear has made his exit from the marked circle, then, of course, the search will prove a blank, and Bruin make his escape—at least out of that “ring.”
One of the most singular features of this custom is, that he who has succeeded in “ringing” a bear, is regarded as the lawful proprietor of the animal—or rather of the “ring”—and can dispose of his right to any hunting party he pleases. Of course he cannot guarantee the killing of the bear: that is left to the skill of the hunters, who must take their chance. The tracker only answers for a bear being found within a prescribed circle, of which he gives proof by pointing out thespar. With such conditions, established by long and well-observed custom, it will easily be believed that the woodcutters and other peasants make a market by ringing bears, frequently disposing of the “ring” to the more ardent hunters for a very considerable price! It was just with this view that the Finnish peasant had put himself in communication with our young Russians; and as the bounty they had already offered far exceeded the usual purchase-money in such cases, the Quän at once closed with their offer, and conducted them to the “ring.”
Chapter Fifteen.Old Nalle.While proceeding towards the ground where they expected to find the bear, their guide informed them that he had not only ringed the animal, but actually knew the den in which it was lying. This was still better: it would not only save them a search, but enable them to encompass the beast on all sides and cut off his retreat—should he attempt to bolt before they could get near.On approaching the place, therefore, Pouchskin proposed that the three should separate, and, after having deployed into a circle, proceed inward from different directions.But the guide opposed this suggestion—saying, with a significant smile, that there was no need of such precautions, as he would answer for the bear not leaving his den, until they had all got up as near as they might wish to be.The hunters wondered at this confidence on the part of their guide, but in a few minutes’ time they had an explanation of it. Going up to a sort of cliff that formed the side of a little stony knoll, the Quän pointed to a hole in the rocks, saying, as he did so:—“Oldnalleis in there.”Now “nalle” is the nickname of the bear throughout the Scandinavian countries, and our Russian hunters knew this well enough; but that a bear could be inside the little hole, to which their guide had pointed, appeared utterly incredible, and Ivan and Alexis burst into a loud laugh, while Pouchskin was rather inclined to show a little anger about the matter.The hole which the Quän had pointed out was a crevice between two great boulders of rock. It was about a yard above the ground, upon which they stood; and was certainly not more than six or eight inches in diameter. All round the orifice the rocks were thickly coated with ice; and from the top of the cliff on both sides huge icicles projected downwards, until their tips touched the earth, looking like enormous trunks of elephants, or such as even mammoths might have carried. One of these immense icicles was directly in front of the aperture; while on the ground just below its point stood up a huge mass of an irregular conical shape, the convex surface of which was coated with snow that had lately fallen.The first impression of the hunters was, that they had been deceived by the cunning Quän. Pouchskin declared that they would not stand being tricked; and at once demanded back the ten rix-dollars which his young masters had paid for the “ring” of the bear.“It was all nonsense,” he said; “even if there was a cave, no bear could be inside, for the simple reason that none, even the smallest, could possibly have squeezed his carcass through a hole like that;—a cat could hardly have crept into such an aperture. Besides, where were the tracks of the bear? There were none to be seen—neither by the mouth of the hole, nor in the snow outside.”There were old tracks of the peasant himself and of a dog, but not of a bear.“It’s a decided take-in,” grumbled Pouchskin.“Patience, master!” said the Quän. “There is a bear inside for all that; and I’ll prove it, or else return you your money. See my little dog! he’ll tell you oldnalleis there. It was he that told me.”As the Quän said this he let slip a diminutive cur, which he had hitherto held in the leash. The animal, on being set free, rushed up to the hole, and commenced scratching at the ice, and barking in the most furious and excited manner. It certainly proved there was some living creature inside; but how could the Quän tell it was a bear? and, above all, a black bear!He was interrogated on this point.“By it,” replied the peasant, taking from his pouch a tuft of long black fur, which was evidently that of a bear; “that is how I know that oldnalle’sin the cave, and the colour of the hair tells me that it’sblack nallewho’s inside.”“But how came you by that?” inquired all three in a breath, as the man held the tuft before their eyes.“Well, masters!” answered the Quän, “you see some jaggy points on the rock, at the top of the hole, there. I found it sticking there, where the bear must have left it, as he was squeezing himself into his cave—that’s how it was.”“But surely,” said Alexis, “you don’t mean to assert that a bear could pass through such a hole as that? Why, a badger couldn’t get in there, my man!”“Notnow,” said the Quän, “I admit; it’s three months since he went in. The hole was bigger then.”“Biggerthen?”“Certainly, masters! the heap you see below is only ice. It’s the drip of that great icicle that has frozen up as it fell, and if it were not there you’d see a place big enough for a bear to get in. Ah! sirs! he’s there, I can assure you.”“Why, he couldn’t get out of himself?”“That is very true,” replied the peasant; “he’d be safe enough there till a good bit on in the spring. If we hadn’t found him, he would have been obliged to stay in his cave till the sun had thawed that great heap out of his way. It often happens so with the bears in these parts,” added the Quän, without seeming to think there was anything unusual about the circumstance.What the man said was literally true. The bear had gone into this cleft or cave to take his winter nap, and during the long weeks, while he was thus hybernating, the water, of rain and melting snow, dripping from the top of the cliff, had formed enormous stalactites of ice, with stalagmites as well: since it was one of the latter that had closed up the entrance to the den, and fairly shut him up in his own house!Not only does this curious accident often occur to Scandinavian bears, but these animals, notwithstanding their proverbial sagacity, frequently become their own jailers. They have a habit of collecting large quantities of moss and grass in front of their caves, which they place right in the aperture; and not inside as a bed to lie upon. Why they do so is not clearly understood. The Scandinavian hunters allege that it is for the purpose of sheltering them from the cold wind, that would otherwise blow up into their chamber; and in the absence of any better explanation this has been generally adopted. The heap soon gets saturated by rain and melting snow, and congeals into a solid mass, so hard that it requires to be cut with an axe before it can be got out of the way; and the bear himself is totally incapable of removing it. The consequence is that it often shuts up the entrance to his winter chamber; and Bruin, on awakening from his sleep, finds himself caught in a trap of his own construction. He has then no other resource but to remain inside till the spring heats have thawed the mass, so that he can tear it to pieces with his claws, and thus effect an exit. On such occasions, he issues forth in a state of extreme weakness and emaciation. Not unfrequently he is altogether unable to clear away the obstacle, and perishes in his den.On hearing these explanations from the Quän, who appeared to be well acquainted with Bruin’s habits, the young hunters were satisfied that a bear was really in the cave. Indeed, they were not long upon the spot, till they had still more satisfactory evidence of this fact; for they could hear the “sniffing” of the animal, with an occasional querulous growl, as if uttered in answer to the barking of the dog. Beyond doubt, there was a bear inside.How was he to be got out? That now became the important question.
While proceeding towards the ground where they expected to find the bear, their guide informed them that he had not only ringed the animal, but actually knew the den in which it was lying. This was still better: it would not only save them a search, but enable them to encompass the beast on all sides and cut off his retreat—should he attempt to bolt before they could get near.
On approaching the place, therefore, Pouchskin proposed that the three should separate, and, after having deployed into a circle, proceed inward from different directions.
But the guide opposed this suggestion—saying, with a significant smile, that there was no need of such precautions, as he would answer for the bear not leaving his den, until they had all got up as near as they might wish to be.
The hunters wondered at this confidence on the part of their guide, but in a few minutes’ time they had an explanation of it. Going up to a sort of cliff that formed the side of a little stony knoll, the Quän pointed to a hole in the rocks, saying, as he did so:—
“Oldnalleis in there.”
Now “nalle” is the nickname of the bear throughout the Scandinavian countries, and our Russian hunters knew this well enough; but that a bear could be inside the little hole, to which their guide had pointed, appeared utterly incredible, and Ivan and Alexis burst into a loud laugh, while Pouchskin was rather inclined to show a little anger about the matter.
The hole which the Quän had pointed out was a crevice between two great boulders of rock. It was about a yard above the ground, upon which they stood; and was certainly not more than six or eight inches in diameter. All round the orifice the rocks were thickly coated with ice; and from the top of the cliff on both sides huge icicles projected downwards, until their tips touched the earth, looking like enormous trunks of elephants, or such as even mammoths might have carried. One of these immense icicles was directly in front of the aperture; while on the ground just below its point stood up a huge mass of an irregular conical shape, the convex surface of which was coated with snow that had lately fallen.
The first impression of the hunters was, that they had been deceived by the cunning Quän. Pouchskin declared that they would not stand being tricked; and at once demanded back the ten rix-dollars which his young masters had paid for the “ring” of the bear.
“It was all nonsense,” he said; “even if there was a cave, no bear could be inside, for the simple reason that none, even the smallest, could possibly have squeezed his carcass through a hole like that;—a cat could hardly have crept into such an aperture. Besides, where were the tracks of the bear? There were none to be seen—neither by the mouth of the hole, nor in the snow outside.”
There were old tracks of the peasant himself and of a dog, but not of a bear.
“It’s a decided take-in,” grumbled Pouchskin.
“Patience, master!” said the Quän. “There is a bear inside for all that; and I’ll prove it, or else return you your money. See my little dog! he’ll tell you oldnalleis there. It was he that told me.”
As the Quän said this he let slip a diminutive cur, which he had hitherto held in the leash. The animal, on being set free, rushed up to the hole, and commenced scratching at the ice, and barking in the most furious and excited manner. It certainly proved there was some living creature inside; but how could the Quän tell it was a bear? and, above all, a black bear!
He was interrogated on this point.
“By it,” replied the peasant, taking from his pouch a tuft of long black fur, which was evidently that of a bear; “that is how I know that oldnalle’sin the cave, and the colour of the hair tells me that it’sblack nallewho’s inside.”
“But how came you by that?” inquired all three in a breath, as the man held the tuft before their eyes.
“Well, masters!” answered the Quän, “you see some jaggy points on the rock, at the top of the hole, there. I found it sticking there, where the bear must have left it, as he was squeezing himself into his cave—that’s how it was.”
“But surely,” said Alexis, “you don’t mean to assert that a bear could pass through such a hole as that? Why, a badger couldn’t get in there, my man!”
“Notnow,” said the Quän, “I admit; it’s three months since he went in. The hole was bigger then.”
“Biggerthen?”
“Certainly, masters! the heap you see below is only ice. It’s the drip of that great icicle that has frozen up as it fell, and if it were not there you’d see a place big enough for a bear to get in. Ah! sirs! he’s there, I can assure you.”
“Why, he couldn’t get out of himself?”
“That is very true,” replied the peasant; “he’d be safe enough there till a good bit on in the spring. If we hadn’t found him, he would have been obliged to stay in his cave till the sun had thawed that great heap out of his way. It often happens so with the bears in these parts,” added the Quän, without seeming to think there was anything unusual about the circumstance.
What the man said was literally true. The bear had gone into this cleft or cave to take his winter nap, and during the long weeks, while he was thus hybernating, the water, of rain and melting snow, dripping from the top of the cliff, had formed enormous stalactites of ice, with stalagmites as well: since it was one of the latter that had closed up the entrance to the den, and fairly shut him up in his own house!
Not only does this curious accident often occur to Scandinavian bears, but these animals, notwithstanding their proverbial sagacity, frequently become their own jailers. They have a habit of collecting large quantities of moss and grass in front of their caves, which they place right in the aperture; and not inside as a bed to lie upon. Why they do so is not clearly understood. The Scandinavian hunters allege that it is for the purpose of sheltering them from the cold wind, that would otherwise blow up into their chamber; and in the absence of any better explanation this has been generally adopted. The heap soon gets saturated by rain and melting snow, and congeals into a solid mass, so hard that it requires to be cut with an axe before it can be got out of the way; and the bear himself is totally incapable of removing it. The consequence is that it often shuts up the entrance to his winter chamber; and Bruin, on awakening from his sleep, finds himself caught in a trap of his own construction. He has then no other resource but to remain inside till the spring heats have thawed the mass, so that he can tear it to pieces with his claws, and thus effect an exit. On such occasions, he issues forth in a state of extreme weakness and emaciation. Not unfrequently he is altogether unable to clear away the obstacle, and perishes in his den.
On hearing these explanations from the Quän, who appeared to be well acquainted with Bruin’s habits, the young hunters were satisfied that a bear was really in the cave. Indeed, they were not long upon the spot, till they had still more satisfactory evidence of this fact; for they could hear the “sniffing” of the animal, with an occasional querulous growl, as if uttered in answer to the barking of the dog. Beyond doubt, there was a bear inside.
How was he to be got out? That now became the important question.
Chapter Sixteen.The Staked Enclosure.They waited, for a time, in hopes that he might show his snout at the little aperture, and all three stood watching it, with guns cocked and ready. A good while passed, however, and, as no snout made its appearance, they came to the conclusion that the bear was not to be caught in that simple way. By the snorting growl they could tell that he was at no great distance from the entrance, and they thought a pole might reach him. They tried this, but found that it could be inserted only in a diagonal direction; and although Pouchskin poised in the pole, and bent it round like a rattan, he could not touch wool anywhere; while the bear, though he gave tongue now and then, still kept his place at the further end of the cave.No other plan offered, except to cut away the icy mass, and set open the mouth of the cavity. If this were done, would Bruin be then likely to come forth? The Quän was confident he would; alleging as his reason, that, in consequence of the spell of warm weather there had been, the bear must have fully shaken off his winter drowsiness, and would no doubt have been abroad long ago, but for the ice preventing his egress from the den. As soon as that should be removed, he would be pretty sure to sally out—for hunger, said the peasant, will bring him forth, if not just at the moment, certainly within an hour or so. At the worst they could wait a while. Moreover, were the ice removed, they might be able to reach him with a pole; and that would be certain to put him in such a rage as would at once tempt him to make asortie.With this idea, Pouchskin seized his axe, knocked the great icicle into “smithereens,” and was about going to work upon the hugestalagmitethat blocked up the entrance, when he was interrupted by the Quän.“With your leave, master!” said the latter, as he laid his hand upon Pouchskin’s arm to restrain him. “Not so fast, if you please?”“Why?” asked the ex-guardsman, “don’t you intend to unearth the brute?”“Yes, master,” replied the Quän; “but something must be done first. This is a black bear, you must know.”“Well, and what of a black one more than any other?” demanded Pouchskin, somewhat surprised, for in the forests of Russia, where he had hunted bears, there were no black ones.“Don’t you know,” said the Finn, “that Black Nalle is always bigger and fiercer than his brown brother? Besides, just at this time he will be so savage with hunger, that he would eat one of us up the moment he got out. If that ice was away, I shouldn’t like to stand here. Take your time, master! I think I can show you a better plan, at all events it is a safer one. It’s a way we practise here—when we are sure that a bear is asleep, and won’t interrupt us while we’re making ready for him.”“Oh, well,” replied Pouchskin, “I’m agreeable to anything you propose. I’m not particularly desirous of risking another wrestle—not I—I had enough of that the other day.” And as the old guardsman made the remark, he gave a significant shrug of his shoulders, the wounds upon which not being yet quite cicatrised, feelingly reminded him of the rough handling he had received.“Well then,” said the Quän, “if you will help me to cut some strong stakes, I shall show you a plan by which you may knock oldnalleupon the skull without danger to any of us, or send your bullets through his brain, if you like better to kill him in that way.”All, of course, agreed to the Quän’s proposal; for if the black bear was as he represented him, fiercer than his brown brethren, it would be no pleasant prospect to have him loose among them; and in case of their not being able to shoot him dead on the spot as he rushed out, they might not only be in danger of getting mauled, but in danger of what they dreaded almost as much—losing him altogether. He might get off into the forest; and as there were tracts along the hill-sides, now quite clear of snow, he might steal away from them beyond recovery. This would be a disappointment of no ordinary kind. In fact, it might be the means of keeping them for weeks, or perhaps months, from proceeding on their journey: since it might be weeks or months before they should fall in with another chance of obtaining a black bearskin; and until that was procured they could not turn their faces towards Spain.With such a prospect then, they were only too ready to agree to any conditions by which the bear might be safely secured.The Quän was not long in disclosing his plan; and as soon as he had communicated it, all three set to work to aid him in its execution.A number of stout stakes were cut—each about six feet in length, and pointed at one end. These were driven into the earth around the outer edge of the icy mass, in a sort of semicircular row; and so as to enclose a small space in front of the aperture. To hold the stakes all the more firmly, large stones were piled up against them, and the uprights themselves were closely wattled together by the broad flat branches of the spruce pines that grew near. In this way was constructed a fence that a cat could not have crawled through, much less a bear. One aperture only was left in it, and that was directly in front—a hole at about the height of a man’s knee from the ground, and just big enough to admit the head of a bear—for that was the purpose for which it was intended.The next thing done was to roof the whole of this stockade enclosure; and that was accomplished by resting long poles horizontally over it, tying them at the ends to the tops of the uprights, and then covering them thickly withgranris(the spray lopped from the branches of the evergreen pines).It now only remained to get the ice cut of the way, and allow the bear to come forth. That would not have been so easy of accomplishment, had it not been already partially removed. Before closing up the top, Pouchskin, directed by the Finnish peasant, had cut away most of the mass, leaving only a shell; which, although filling up the entrance as before, could be easily beaten down, or driven in from the outside of the enclosure.During the time that the ex-guardsman had been sapping away the ice, he had been keeping a sharp lookout. He was admonished to do this by certain noises that, now and then, came rumbling out of the cave; and not very certain that he was in perfect safety, he had been under some apprehension. The bear, by throwing all his weight against the reduced mass of ice,mightbreak his way out; and as by the constant chiselling the wall grew weaker and thinner, Pouchskin’s fears increased in proportion. He was only too happy, when, having picked the congealed mass to what was thought a sufficient thinness, he desisted from his work, and crept out of the enclosure, through the space that had been kept open for him.This was now fenced up as securely as the rest; and it only remained to knock away the icy barricade, and tempt Bruin to come forth.The icy wall could be broken in by means of a long boar-spear with which the Finnish peasant had provided himself. It was headed with a heavy piece of iron, edged and tipped with the best Swedish steel, and this being jobbed against the ice, and kept constantly at work, soon splintered the shell into pieces.As soon as the Quän saw that he had opened a hole large enough to pass the body of the bear, he drew back his spear, telling the hunter to look out.During the operation, all three had kept watch through crevices in the stockade-wall, holding their guns pointed towards the aperture, and ready to give the bear a volley the moment he should show his snout.
They waited, for a time, in hopes that he might show his snout at the little aperture, and all three stood watching it, with guns cocked and ready. A good while passed, however, and, as no snout made its appearance, they came to the conclusion that the bear was not to be caught in that simple way. By the snorting growl they could tell that he was at no great distance from the entrance, and they thought a pole might reach him. They tried this, but found that it could be inserted only in a diagonal direction; and although Pouchskin poised in the pole, and bent it round like a rattan, he could not touch wool anywhere; while the bear, though he gave tongue now and then, still kept his place at the further end of the cave.
No other plan offered, except to cut away the icy mass, and set open the mouth of the cavity. If this were done, would Bruin be then likely to come forth? The Quän was confident he would; alleging as his reason, that, in consequence of the spell of warm weather there had been, the bear must have fully shaken off his winter drowsiness, and would no doubt have been abroad long ago, but for the ice preventing his egress from the den. As soon as that should be removed, he would be pretty sure to sally out—for hunger, said the peasant, will bring him forth, if not just at the moment, certainly within an hour or so. At the worst they could wait a while. Moreover, were the ice removed, they might be able to reach him with a pole; and that would be certain to put him in such a rage as would at once tempt him to make asortie.
With this idea, Pouchskin seized his axe, knocked the great icicle into “smithereens,” and was about going to work upon the hugestalagmitethat blocked up the entrance, when he was interrupted by the Quän.
“With your leave, master!” said the latter, as he laid his hand upon Pouchskin’s arm to restrain him. “Not so fast, if you please?”
“Why?” asked the ex-guardsman, “don’t you intend to unearth the brute?”
“Yes, master,” replied the Quän; “but something must be done first. This is a black bear, you must know.”
“Well, and what of a black one more than any other?” demanded Pouchskin, somewhat surprised, for in the forests of Russia, where he had hunted bears, there were no black ones.
“Don’t you know,” said the Finn, “that Black Nalle is always bigger and fiercer than his brown brother? Besides, just at this time he will be so savage with hunger, that he would eat one of us up the moment he got out. If that ice was away, I shouldn’t like to stand here. Take your time, master! I think I can show you a better plan, at all events it is a safer one. It’s a way we practise here—when we are sure that a bear is asleep, and won’t interrupt us while we’re making ready for him.”
“Oh, well,” replied Pouchskin, “I’m agreeable to anything you propose. I’m not particularly desirous of risking another wrestle—not I—I had enough of that the other day.” And as the old guardsman made the remark, he gave a significant shrug of his shoulders, the wounds upon which not being yet quite cicatrised, feelingly reminded him of the rough handling he had received.
“Well then,” said the Quän, “if you will help me to cut some strong stakes, I shall show you a plan by which you may knock oldnalleupon the skull without danger to any of us, or send your bullets through his brain, if you like better to kill him in that way.”
All, of course, agreed to the Quän’s proposal; for if the black bear was as he represented him, fiercer than his brown brethren, it would be no pleasant prospect to have him loose among them; and in case of their not being able to shoot him dead on the spot as he rushed out, they might not only be in danger of getting mauled, but in danger of what they dreaded almost as much—losing him altogether. He might get off into the forest; and as there were tracts along the hill-sides, now quite clear of snow, he might steal away from them beyond recovery. This would be a disappointment of no ordinary kind. In fact, it might be the means of keeping them for weeks, or perhaps months, from proceeding on their journey: since it might be weeks or months before they should fall in with another chance of obtaining a black bearskin; and until that was procured they could not turn their faces towards Spain.
With such a prospect then, they were only too ready to agree to any conditions by which the bear might be safely secured.
The Quän was not long in disclosing his plan; and as soon as he had communicated it, all three set to work to aid him in its execution.
A number of stout stakes were cut—each about six feet in length, and pointed at one end. These were driven into the earth around the outer edge of the icy mass, in a sort of semicircular row; and so as to enclose a small space in front of the aperture. To hold the stakes all the more firmly, large stones were piled up against them, and the uprights themselves were closely wattled together by the broad flat branches of the spruce pines that grew near. In this way was constructed a fence that a cat could not have crawled through, much less a bear. One aperture only was left in it, and that was directly in front—a hole at about the height of a man’s knee from the ground, and just big enough to admit the head of a bear—for that was the purpose for which it was intended.
The next thing done was to roof the whole of this stockade enclosure; and that was accomplished by resting long poles horizontally over it, tying them at the ends to the tops of the uprights, and then covering them thickly withgranris(the spray lopped from the branches of the evergreen pines).
It now only remained to get the ice cut of the way, and allow the bear to come forth. That would not have been so easy of accomplishment, had it not been already partially removed. Before closing up the top, Pouchskin, directed by the Finnish peasant, had cut away most of the mass, leaving only a shell; which, although filling up the entrance as before, could be easily beaten down, or driven in from the outside of the enclosure.
During the time that the ex-guardsman had been sapping away the ice, he had been keeping a sharp lookout. He was admonished to do this by certain noises that, now and then, came rumbling out of the cave; and not very certain that he was in perfect safety, he had been under some apprehension. The bear, by throwing all his weight against the reduced mass of ice,mightbreak his way out; and as by the constant chiselling the wall grew weaker and thinner, Pouchskin’s fears increased in proportion. He was only too happy, when, having picked the congealed mass to what was thought a sufficient thinness, he desisted from his work, and crept out of the enclosure, through the space that had been kept open for him.
This was now fenced up as securely as the rest; and it only remained to knock away the icy barricade, and tempt Bruin to come forth.
The icy wall could be broken in by means of a long boar-spear with which the Finnish peasant had provided himself. It was headed with a heavy piece of iron, edged and tipped with the best Swedish steel, and this being jobbed against the ice, and kept constantly at work, soon splintered the shell into pieces.
As soon as the Quän saw that he had opened a hole large enough to pass the body of the bear, he drew back his spear, telling the hunter to look out.
During the operation, all three had kept watch through crevices in the stockade-wall, holding their guns pointed towards the aperture, and ready to give the bear a volley the moment he should show his snout.
Chapter Seventeen.The Spitting-Devil.To their disappointment, however, the bear refused to exhibit even as much as the tip of his nose, not only while his door was being opened, but afterwards; and they began to think that he might not come forth after all.The Quän assured them that he would be certain to do so in time; but perhaps not for a few hours, till after they should have remained quiet a while, and oldnalleshould fancy they had gone away.“He has been a long time without his breakfast,” added the Quän, “and his stomach will now be talking loudly to him; that will tell him to steal out for something to eat. No fear of it, masters!”“But for what purpose have you designed this hole?” inquired Ivan, pointing to the little aperture that had been left in the wattled enclosure.“Oh,” replied the peasant, “that is how we kill bears sometimes; especially if we are not rich enough to have a gun. As soon as oldnallerushes out from his den, the first thing he does is to run all round, looking for a chance to break through the fence. Of course he finds the hole, and pokes his head through it. One of us stands outside, as you see me now, with a hatchet ready; and we would be clumsy, indeed, if we could not cleave in his skull, or give him such a crack upon it, as would turn him back downwards. You shall see how the bear will rush to this hole the moment he comes out, and then, masters! you shall see!”Here the Quän gave a significant shake to his hatchet, twirling it with the dexterity peculiar to his craft, for it so chanced that he was a woodcutter by trade.Our hunters, however, saw that this would never do. According to the conditions under which they travelled, the bear must be killed by one of themselves; and, therefore, after a little explanation, the Quän resigned his intention and stepped aside. His post, however, was supplied by the ex-guardsman, who, poising his ponderous axe, stood ready to deal a far heavier, and deadlier, blow than could be given by any woodcutter in Scandinavia. Alexis took charge of Pouchskin’s gun, determined to fire it as soon as he had discharged his own rifle; and as Ivan had one barrel loaded with ball and the other with slugs, it was not likely, against such a formidable battery as was thus prepared for him, that Bruin could manage to live much longer.It now became a question whether they should wait patiently till the bear came out, or whether they might not adopt some mode of tempting him forth, that would act upon him more rapidly than the cravings of his stomach.There could be no harm in trying to reach and stir him up with a pole; and for this purpose the woodcutter stepped aside to find one.He very soon succeeded in procuring a long birch sapling—as long as an ordinary fishing-rod; and having cleared this of its spray, he inserted it into the cave. To the gratification of the party it was found long enough for the purpose; for by the muffled feel it could only be Bruin’s fur that its point was buried in. It was just as far, however, as the pole would reach; and as it was a slender sapling without any stiffness in it, they were unable to do anything in the way of giving him a poke. No doubt, had the entrance to his den been wider, even the tickling of the pole would have caused him to “turn out;” for a bear, unless badly wounded, will not stand much badgering. It was possible, in this case, that Bruin suspected there was some trap set for him outside—indeed, the noises he had been listening to for more than an hour, must have admonished him that all was not as it ought to be; and this perhaps rendered him more wary than was his wont. He might not yet be aware that his door was open; for the roofed enclosure still kept out the light as much as thestalagmitehad done; and although he might have heard the icy mass giving way before the axe and spear, he might not understand all that. It was necessary, therefore, to coax him as far as the threshold—so that he might discover that the door of his chamber had been opened for him.The tickling of the pole, however, proved of no service; for, although it drew from the huge brute a sniff or two, he still kept to his bed.What was to be done? Must they retire, and wait patiently till the calls of hunger should urge him forth? The day was piercingly cold, and to remain there long would have been unpleasant enough. They might, indeed, have to stay by the cave all day and all night too: for the enclosure had been only slightly put up—merely to check the bear for a few minutes—and if they were to leave him all night to himself, he could easily tear down the stakes and get off.They could not think of deserting the spot for an instant; but to avoid a long vigil they set about considering some plan by which Bruin might be induced to come forth from his inaccessible retreat.A thought occurred to Ivan, who was a quick conceiver—a plan which promised well—and that was to make a “spitting-devil,” and send it up into the cave. It appeared a good idea—at all events, it would not be difficult to give it a trial. Gunpowder was not scarce with them—since Russian roubles were plenty; and Pouchskin, pouring out nearly a quarter of a pound into the palm of his broad hand, commenced spitting upon it and working the powder into a paste. Ivan, who directed this operation, was determined his plan should not fail by any stinginess in regard to the materials required for carrying it out.After a short space of time the plastic fingers of Pouchskin had elaborated the powder paste into a roll as large as a regalia cigar; and this being dried slightly near a fire—which they had long before kindled—was ready for the touch. To the old grenadier was intrusted the management of the miniature rocket; and, while the young hunters once more stood to their guns, he proceeded to carry out the design.Having thrust his head through the hole intended for the bear, and his arm through another which he had made for himself, he held the “devil” at arm’s length between his finger and thumb. The Quän now took a blazing faggot from the fire, and passing it between the wattles, ignited thefusewhich the old grenadier had ingeniously placed in the “devil’s” tail.As soon as Pouchskin perceived that it was fairly on fire, with an adroit jerk he sent the little rocket up into the cave, as far as he could throw it; and then jerking himself backward, he seized hold of his axe.There was a moment of suspense; not long: for almost on the instant a brilliant light shone within the cave, accompanied with a sputtering and whizzing and cracking, as if half a dozen alarm-clocks had been set going at the same time! In the midst of this confusion of noises, and louder far than any, could be heard a number of sharp wild shrieks, and before the rocket had half burnt out, Bruin was seen bolting forth over the broken fragments of ice. Two shots were fired, almost simultaneously; but both failed to check his onward rush; and with a mighty force he came “bump” against the palisades, causing them to crash and swag as if they would give way. It was fortunate for the hunters that the stakes stood the shock: for such a set of teeth as that bear exhibited they had never before seen. A single stroke from those paws would have been enough to crack the thickest skull in creation.Ivan gave him his second barrel—the one loaded with slugs,—but it only served to increase his fury; and now rearing up, and then going on all-fours, he kept rushing backward and forward through the enclosure, all the while uttering fierce growls.Alexis, meanwhile, had dropped his rifle and taken up the fusil of Pouchskin. His place was at one side of the enclosure. He had already got the barrel through the wattles, and was endeavouring to level it upon the bear—seeking for a mortal part at which he might aim. The darkness, however,—for the roofed stockade rendered it dark—combined with the quick movements of the animal, hindered him from getting a sight to his satisfaction. He knew the importance of making this a killing shot. Should the bear, wounded as he now was, retreat back into his den, there would be no chance whatever of getting him out again. Alexis thought of this; and therefore resolved not to fire at random, as he had done before. He knew that a full-grown bear, unless shot in the brain or heart, can accommodate a score of bullets without being much inconvenienced by them.Knowing this, Alexis was biding his time, when all at once he perceived the bear make halt on the front side of the enclosure. He now aimed at the heart of the huge animal, but before he could pull trigger, a loud crash sounded in his ear, and Bruin was seen dropping to the ground, where he continued to lie, almost without giving a kick!It was the axe of Pouchskin that had caused the crash, as its edge of steel descended upon the bear’s cranium, smashing it in as if it had been an eggshell. As the Quän predicted, the animal had imprudently poked his head through the aperture where Pouchskin was standing ready for him.This, of course, finished the affair. It was only necessary to remove the palisades, sling the bear to a tree, and then strip him of his much-coveted skin. All this in due time was accomplished; and with the robe once more packed on the shoulders of Pouchskin, the hunters returned to their headquarters.It proved—as the Quän had promised them—to be a black bear; not that his fur was altogether black, as is the case with theursus americanusand the black bears of India. On the contrary, the hair was brown near the roots, and only black at the tips, which, however, gave it the appearance of being black all over the surface; and Alexis knew that this was the variety of bear they were in search of.Satisfied that they had obtained the skin of theursus niger, it only remained for our hunters to pack up their travelling traps, bid adieu to the cold climate of Scandinavia, and start for the sunny south—for the far-famed Pyrenees of Spain.
To their disappointment, however, the bear refused to exhibit even as much as the tip of his nose, not only while his door was being opened, but afterwards; and they began to think that he might not come forth after all.
The Quän assured them that he would be certain to do so in time; but perhaps not for a few hours, till after they should have remained quiet a while, and oldnalleshould fancy they had gone away.
“He has been a long time without his breakfast,” added the Quän, “and his stomach will now be talking loudly to him; that will tell him to steal out for something to eat. No fear of it, masters!”
“But for what purpose have you designed this hole?” inquired Ivan, pointing to the little aperture that had been left in the wattled enclosure.
“Oh,” replied the peasant, “that is how we kill bears sometimes; especially if we are not rich enough to have a gun. As soon as oldnallerushes out from his den, the first thing he does is to run all round, looking for a chance to break through the fence. Of course he finds the hole, and pokes his head through it. One of us stands outside, as you see me now, with a hatchet ready; and we would be clumsy, indeed, if we could not cleave in his skull, or give him such a crack upon it, as would turn him back downwards. You shall see how the bear will rush to this hole the moment he comes out, and then, masters! you shall see!”
Here the Quän gave a significant shake to his hatchet, twirling it with the dexterity peculiar to his craft, for it so chanced that he was a woodcutter by trade.
Our hunters, however, saw that this would never do. According to the conditions under which they travelled, the bear must be killed by one of themselves; and, therefore, after a little explanation, the Quän resigned his intention and stepped aside. His post, however, was supplied by the ex-guardsman, who, poising his ponderous axe, stood ready to deal a far heavier, and deadlier, blow than could be given by any woodcutter in Scandinavia. Alexis took charge of Pouchskin’s gun, determined to fire it as soon as he had discharged his own rifle; and as Ivan had one barrel loaded with ball and the other with slugs, it was not likely, against such a formidable battery as was thus prepared for him, that Bruin could manage to live much longer.
It now became a question whether they should wait patiently till the bear came out, or whether they might not adopt some mode of tempting him forth, that would act upon him more rapidly than the cravings of his stomach.
There could be no harm in trying to reach and stir him up with a pole; and for this purpose the woodcutter stepped aside to find one.
He very soon succeeded in procuring a long birch sapling—as long as an ordinary fishing-rod; and having cleared this of its spray, he inserted it into the cave. To the gratification of the party it was found long enough for the purpose; for by the muffled feel it could only be Bruin’s fur that its point was buried in. It was just as far, however, as the pole would reach; and as it was a slender sapling without any stiffness in it, they were unable to do anything in the way of giving him a poke. No doubt, had the entrance to his den been wider, even the tickling of the pole would have caused him to “turn out;” for a bear, unless badly wounded, will not stand much badgering. It was possible, in this case, that Bruin suspected there was some trap set for him outside—indeed, the noises he had been listening to for more than an hour, must have admonished him that all was not as it ought to be; and this perhaps rendered him more wary than was his wont. He might not yet be aware that his door was open; for the roofed enclosure still kept out the light as much as thestalagmitehad done; and although he might have heard the icy mass giving way before the axe and spear, he might not understand all that. It was necessary, therefore, to coax him as far as the threshold—so that he might discover that the door of his chamber had been opened for him.
The tickling of the pole, however, proved of no service; for, although it drew from the huge brute a sniff or two, he still kept to his bed.
What was to be done? Must they retire, and wait patiently till the calls of hunger should urge him forth? The day was piercingly cold, and to remain there long would have been unpleasant enough. They might, indeed, have to stay by the cave all day and all night too: for the enclosure had been only slightly put up—merely to check the bear for a few minutes—and if they were to leave him all night to himself, he could easily tear down the stakes and get off.
They could not think of deserting the spot for an instant; but to avoid a long vigil they set about considering some plan by which Bruin might be induced to come forth from his inaccessible retreat.
A thought occurred to Ivan, who was a quick conceiver—a plan which promised well—and that was to make a “spitting-devil,” and send it up into the cave. It appeared a good idea—at all events, it would not be difficult to give it a trial. Gunpowder was not scarce with them—since Russian roubles were plenty; and Pouchskin, pouring out nearly a quarter of a pound into the palm of his broad hand, commenced spitting upon it and working the powder into a paste. Ivan, who directed this operation, was determined his plan should not fail by any stinginess in regard to the materials required for carrying it out.
After a short space of time the plastic fingers of Pouchskin had elaborated the powder paste into a roll as large as a regalia cigar; and this being dried slightly near a fire—which they had long before kindled—was ready for the touch. To the old grenadier was intrusted the management of the miniature rocket; and, while the young hunters once more stood to their guns, he proceeded to carry out the design.
Having thrust his head through the hole intended for the bear, and his arm through another which he had made for himself, he held the “devil” at arm’s length between his finger and thumb. The Quän now took a blazing faggot from the fire, and passing it between the wattles, ignited thefusewhich the old grenadier had ingeniously placed in the “devil’s” tail.
As soon as Pouchskin perceived that it was fairly on fire, with an adroit jerk he sent the little rocket up into the cave, as far as he could throw it; and then jerking himself backward, he seized hold of his axe.
There was a moment of suspense; not long: for almost on the instant a brilliant light shone within the cave, accompanied with a sputtering and whizzing and cracking, as if half a dozen alarm-clocks had been set going at the same time! In the midst of this confusion of noises, and louder far than any, could be heard a number of sharp wild shrieks, and before the rocket had half burnt out, Bruin was seen bolting forth over the broken fragments of ice. Two shots were fired, almost simultaneously; but both failed to check his onward rush; and with a mighty force he came “bump” against the palisades, causing them to crash and swag as if they would give way. It was fortunate for the hunters that the stakes stood the shock: for such a set of teeth as that bear exhibited they had never before seen. A single stroke from those paws would have been enough to crack the thickest skull in creation.
Ivan gave him his second barrel—the one loaded with slugs,—but it only served to increase his fury; and now rearing up, and then going on all-fours, he kept rushing backward and forward through the enclosure, all the while uttering fierce growls.
Alexis, meanwhile, had dropped his rifle and taken up the fusil of Pouchskin. His place was at one side of the enclosure. He had already got the barrel through the wattles, and was endeavouring to level it upon the bear—seeking for a mortal part at which he might aim. The darkness, however,—for the roofed stockade rendered it dark—combined with the quick movements of the animal, hindered him from getting a sight to his satisfaction. He knew the importance of making this a killing shot. Should the bear, wounded as he now was, retreat back into his den, there would be no chance whatever of getting him out again. Alexis thought of this; and therefore resolved not to fire at random, as he had done before. He knew that a full-grown bear, unless shot in the brain or heart, can accommodate a score of bullets without being much inconvenienced by them.
Knowing this, Alexis was biding his time, when all at once he perceived the bear make halt on the front side of the enclosure. He now aimed at the heart of the huge animal, but before he could pull trigger, a loud crash sounded in his ear, and Bruin was seen dropping to the ground, where he continued to lie, almost without giving a kick!
It was the axe of Pouchskin that had caused the crash, as its edge of steel descended upon the bear’s cranium, smashing it in as if it had been an eggshell. As the Quän predicted, the animal had imprudently poked his head through the aperture where Pouchskin was standing ready for him.
This, of course, finished the affair. It was only necessary to remove the palisades, sling the bear to a tree, and then strip him of his much-coveted skin. All this in due time was accomplished; and with the robe once more packed on the shoulders of Pouchskin, the hunters returned to their headquarters.
It proved—as the Quän had promised them—to be a black bear; not that his fur was altogether black, as is the case with theursus americanusand the black bears of India. On the contrary, the hair was brown near the roots, and only black at the tips, which, however, gave it the appearance of being black all over the surface; and Alexis knew that this was the variety of bear they were in search of.
Satisfied that they had obtained the skin of theursus niger, it only remained for our hunters to pack up their travelling traps, bid adieu to the cold climate of Scandinavia, and start for the sunny south—for the far-famed Pyrenees of Spain.
Chapter Eighteen.The Palombière.It is not intended to detail the many incidents that befell them on the way, the chit-chat of steamboats, railroads, and hotels. Their father cared not to hear of these trifles; he could read enough of such delightful stuff in the books of whole legions of travellers; and, as they did not note anything of this kind in their journal, we are left to suppose that they encountered the usual pleasures anddésagrémenswhich all travellers must experience on similar journeys. As money was no object, they travelled with expedition—making only a short stay in the great capitals through which they passed, in order to have their passportsviséd, and sometimes for the purpose of using the great emperor’s letter for the replenishment of their exchequer. This magic document proved all-powerful everywhere they went; and as they knew it would be so in all corners of the habitable globe, they could rely upon it with perfect confidence. Pouchskin’s leathers bag was always well weighted with the yellow metal,—andspecie, whatever stamp it may bear, is current all over the world.Their journal merely mentions the route followed. From their hunting-ground they returned down the Tornea river, which, running due north and south, of course did not compromise the terms of their covenant; neither were the conditions infringed by their taking at any time the backtrack when engaged in the chase, for, as already known, there was a specification in the baron’s letter, that allowed of this deviation. All that was required of them was that they should not recross a meridian when on their actual route of travel.A ship carried them from Tornea to Dantzic. Hence they passed to Berlin, and on through Frankfort, Stutgard, and Strasbourg, to Paris. Paris, it is true, was a little out of their way; but what Russian could travel across Europe without paying a visit to Paris? Pouchskin cared little about it. The old grenadier had been there before—in 1815—when he was far from being welcome to the Parisians; and Alexis would rather have gone by another and more direct route, that is, through Switzerland; but the gay Ivan would not hear of such a thing. To see Paris he was determined; and see it he did; though what he or they did there is not mentioned in the book of the chronicles of our young bear-hunters.From Paris they travelled by rail, almost directly south—though still slightly westward—to the celebrated baths of Bagnères. Here they found themselves not only within sight, but actually among thefoot-hillsof those mountains, for the tourist scarce second in interest to the Alps themselves, but perhaps for the naturalist even more interesting than these.At Bagnères they made but a short stay, only long enough to recruit their strength by bathing in its thermal springs, and to witness a spectacle which is regarded as the grand lion of the place—thePalombière.As you, young reader, may not have heard of thePalombière, and may be curious to know what it is, I give the account of it, which I find recorded in the journal of Alexis.About two miles from Bagnères rises a ridge of considerable elevation—running parallel with the general direction of the Pyrenees, of which it may be considered an outlying step, or “foot hill” (pied mont). Along the crest of this hill stands a row of very tall trees, from which the branches have been carefully lopped, leaving only a little bunch at the top of each. On coming close to these trees—provided it be in the months of September or October—you will observe a something between them that resembles a thin gauzy veil of a greyish colour. On getting still nearer, you will perceive that this veil is a net—or rather a series of nets—extended from tree to tree, and filling up all the spaces between them—from the highest point to which the branches have been lopped down to within three feet of the ground.Another singular object, or series of objects, will long ere this have attracted your attention. You will see standing, at certain intervals apart, and about thirty yards in front of the trees, a row of tall tapering sticks—so tall that their tops are fifty yards from the ground! They might remind you of the masts of a ship; but that there are in each case two of them together,—the one standing vertically, and the other bending over to it, with a slight curve. On this account you may be more struck with their resemblance to the “shears” seen in shipyards, by which the masts are “stepped” into their places. These masts, as we may call them, are not all of one stick of wood, but of several pieces spliced together; and notwithstanding their prodigious length—fifty yards, you will remember—they are of no great thickness. In fact, although the two are joined together at the top—as we shall presently have occasion to show—when a strong wind blows, both bend, and vibrate back and forward like an elastic trout rod. At their bases they are only five feet apart; and the curving one is intended to act as a stay to the other. Both, as already stated, meet at the top, and looking up you will see—while the sight makes you dizzy—a little roundish object at the point of the junction. It is a basket set there firmly, and just big enough to hold the body of a man. If you look carefully you will see a man actually within it; but, to quote Shakespeare’s quaint simile, he will appear to your eyes not half as gross as a beetle! In all likelihood he is not a man, but only a boy; for it is boys who are selected to perform this elevated and apparently dangerous service.How did the boy get there? will probably be your next question. By running your eye along the curved pole, you will perceive a row of projecting pegs extending from bottom to top. They are quite two feet apart; but had you been present while that youth was making the ascent—which he did by the help of these pegs—you would have seen him scramble up as rapidly, and with as little concern, as a sailor would ascend the ratlines of a ship! It is his trade to do so, and practice has made him as nimble as he is intrepid; but you, who are unaccustomed to witness such tall gymnastics, cannot help again recalling Shakespeare, and exclaiming, with the great dramatic poet, “Fearful trade!” Quite as fearful, indeed, as the gathering of “samphire.”But what is this trade? What is all this contrivance for—these nets and tall masts, with “crows’ nests” at their tops? What are the boys doing up there? And what are they about below—those men, women, and children—a crowd composed of all ages and all sexes? What are they doing?Pigeon-catching. That is what they are doing, or rather what they are aiming to do, as soon as the opportunity offers. These people are simply pigeon-catchers.What sort of pigeons? and where do they come from? These questions must be answered.To the first, then, the answer is the common European wild pigeon (columba palumbis). It is well-known in England by the name of “wood-pigeon,” and in France it is calledramier. In England the wood-pigeon is not migratory. In that country there is a much milder winter than is experienced in the same or even a more southerly latitude on the Continent. This enables the pigeon to find food throughout all the year, and it therefore remains in England. In continental countries—Prance among the number—the severity of the winter forces it southward; and it annually migrates into Africa—the supposed limit of its flight being the chain of the Atlas mountains. Of course the wood-pigeon is only one of many birds that make this annual tour, taking, as the rest do, a “return ticket.”Now theramiersof France, in passing southward, must ply their wings a little more strenuously to mount over the snowy summits of the Pyrenees; but they only commence ascending to this higher elevation when near the mountains. The ridge at Bagnères chances to lie in the line of their flight—of course, not of all of them, but such as may be sweeping along in that particular meridian; and, passing between the tall trees already mentioned, they get caught in the meshes of the nets. The moment they strike these—several of them coming “butt” against one at the same instant,—a trigger is pulled by the men—who are below concealed under screens—and this trigger, acting on a string, causes the net to drop, with the fluttering victims safely secured in its meshes.When the flight has passed, the women, girls, boys, and even the children, rush forth from their hiding-places; and, seizing the struggling birds, put a quick termination to their fruitless efforts, by biting each of them in the neck. Old, half-toothless crones—for this is especially their part of the performance—will be seen thus giving the finalcoupto the beautiful but unfortunate wanderers!And still we have not explained what the boys are doing up yonder. Well, we shall now announce theirmétier. Each has taken up with him a number of little billets of wood, fashioned something like the letter T, and about six inches in length. When this billet is flung into the air, and twirls about in its descent, it exhibits some resemblance—though not a very close one—to a flying pigeon-hawk. The resemblance, however, is near enough to “do” the pigeons; for when they are within about one hundred yards of the crows’ nest, the boy launches his billet into the air, and the birds, believing it to be a hawk, immediately dip several yards in their flight—as they may be seen to do when a real hawk makes his appearance. This descent usually brings them low enough to pass between the trees; and of course the old women soon get their teeth upon them.The pigeon-catching is not free to every one who may take a “fancy” to it. There are pigeon-catchers by trade; who, with their families, follow it as a regular calling during the season, while it lasts; and this, as already stated, is in the months of September and October. ThePalombière, or pigeon-ridge, belongs to the communal authorities, who let it out in sections to the people that follow the calling of pigeon-netting; and these, in their turn, dispose of the produce of their nets in the markets of Bagnères and other neighbouring towns.Every one knows how excellent for the table is the flesh of this beautiful bird: so much is it esteemed, that even at Bagnères, in the season of their greatest plenty, a pair will fetch a market price of from twelve to twenty sous.
It is not intended to detail the many incidents that befell them on the way, the chit-chat of steamboats, railroads, and hotels. Their father cared not to hear of these trifles; he could read enough of such delightful stuff in the books of whole legions of travellers; and, as they did not note anything of this kind in their journal, we are left to suppose that they encountered the usual pleasures anddésagrémenswhich all travellers must experience on similar journeys. As money was no object, they travelled with expedition—making only a short stay in the great capitals through which they passed, in order to have their passportsviséd, and sometimes for the purpose of using the great emperor’s letter for the replenishment of their exchequer. This magic document proved all-powerful everywhere they went; and as they knew it would be so in all corners of the habitable globe, they could rely upon it with perfect confidence. Pouchskin’s leathers bag was always well weighted with the yellow metal,—andspecie, whatever stamp it may bear, is current all over the world.
Their journal merely mentions the route followed. From their hunting-ground they returned down the Tornea river, which, running due north and south, of course did not compromise the terms of their covenant; neither were the conditions infringed by their taking at any time the backtrack when engaged in the chase, for, as already known, there was a specification in the baron’s letter, that allowed of this deviation. All that was required of them was that they should not recross a meridian when on their actual route of travel.
A ship carried them from Tornea to Dantzic. Hence they passed to Berlin, and on through Frankfort, Stutgard, and Strasbourg, to Paris. Paris, it is true, was a little out of their way; but what Russian could travel across Europe without paying a visit to Paris? Pouchskin cared little about it. The old grenadier had been there before—in 1815—when he was far from being welcome to the Parisians; and Alexis would rather have gone by another and more direct route, that is, through Switzerland; but the gay Ivan would not hear of such a thing. To see Paris he was determined; and see it he did; though what he or they did there is not mentioned in the book of the chronicles of our young bear-hunters.
From Paris they travelled by rail, almost directly south—though still slightly westward—to the celebrated baths of Bagnères. Here they found themselves not only within sight, but actually among thefoot-hillsof those mountains, for the tourist scarce second in interest to the Alps themselves, but perhaps for the naturalist even more interesting than these.
At Bagnères they made but a short stay, only long enough to recruit their strength by bathing in its thermal springs, and to witness a spectacle which is regarded as the grand lion of the place—thePalombière.
As you, young reader, may not have heard of thePalombière, and may be curious to know what it is, I give the account of it, which I find recorded in the journal of Alexis.
About two miles from Bagnères rises a ridge of considerable elevation—running parallel with the general direction of the Pyrenees, of which it may be considered an outlying step, or “foot hill” (pied mont). Along the crest of this hill stands a row of very tall trees, from which the branches have been carefully lopped, leaving only a little bunch at the top of each. On coming close to these trees—provided it be in the months of September or October—you will observe a something between them that resembles a thin gauzy veil of a greyish colour. On getting still nearer, you will perceive that this veil is a net—or rather a series of nets—extended from tree to tree, and filling up all the spaces between them—from the highest point to which the branches have been lopped down to within three feet of the ground.
Another singular object, or series of objects, will long ere this have attracted your attention. You will see standing, at certain intervals apart, and about thirty yards in front of the trees, a row of tall tapering sticks—so tall that their tops are fifty yards from the ground! They might remind you of the masts of a ship; but that there are in each case two of them together,—the one standing vertically, and the other bending over to it, with a slight curve. On this account you may be more struck with their resemblance to the “shears” seen in shipyards, by which the masts are “stepped” into their places. These masts, as we may call them, are not all of one stick of wood, but of several pieces spliced together; and notwithstanding their prodigious length—fifty yards, you will remember—they are of no great thickness. In fact, although the two are joined together at the top—as we shall presently have occasion to show—when a strong wind blows, both bend, and vibrate back and forward like an elastic trout rod. At their bases they are only five feet apart; and the curving one is intended to act as a stay to the other. Both, as already stated, meet at the top, and looking up you will see—while the sight makes you dizzy—a little roundish object at the point of the junction. It is a basket set there firmly, and just big enough to hold the body of a man. If you look carefully you will see a man actually within it; but, to quote Shakespeare’s quaint simile, he will appear to your eyes not half as gross as a beetle! In all likelihood he is not a man, but only a boy; for it is boys who are selected to perform this elevated and apparently dangerous service.
How did the boy get there? will probably be your next question. By running your eye along the curved pole, you will perceive a row of projecting pegs extending from bottom to top. They are quite two feet apart; but had you been present while that youth was making the ascent—which he did by the help of these pegs—you would have seen him scramble up as rapidly, and with as little concern, as a sailor would ascend the ratlines of a ship! It is his trade to do so, and practice has made him as nimble as he is intrepid; but you, who are unaccustomed to witness such tall gymnastics, cannot help again recalling Shakespeare, and exclaiming, with the great dramatic poet, “Fearful trade!” Quite as fearful, indeed, as the gathering of “samphire.”
But what is this trade? What is all this contrivance for—these nets and tall masts, with “crows’ nests” at their tops? What are the boys doing up there? And what are they about below—those men, women, and children—a crowd composed of all ages and all sexes? What are they doing?
Pigeon-catching. That is what they are doing, or rather what they are aiming to do, as soon as the opportunity offers. These people are simply pigeon-catchers.
What sort of pigeons? and where do they come from? These questions must be answered.
To the first, then, the answer is the common European wild pigeon (columba palumbis). It is well-known in England by the name of “wood-pigeon,” and in France it is calledramier. In England the wood-pigeon is not migratory. In that country there is a much milder winter than is experienced in the same or even a more southerly latitude on the Continent. This enables the pigeon to find food throughout all the year, and it therefore remains in England. In continental countries—Prance among the number—the severity of the winter forces it southward; and it annually migrates into Africa—the supposed limit of its flight being the chain of the Atlas mountains. Of course the wood-pigeon is only one of many birds that make this annual tour, taking, as the rest do, a “return ticket.”
Now theramiersof France, in passing southward, must ply their wings a little more strenuously to mount over the snowy summits of the Pyrenees; but they only commence ascending to this higher elevation when near the mountains. The ridge at Bagnères chances to lie in the line of their flight—of course, not of all of them, but such as may be sweeping along in that particular meridian; and, passing between the tall trees already mentioned, they get caught in the meshes of the nets. The moment they strike these—several of them coming “butt” against one at the same instant,—a trigger is pulled by the men—who are below concealed under screens—and this trigger, acting on a string, causes the net to drop, with the fluttering victims safely secured in its meshes.
When the flight has passed, the women, girls, boys, and even the children, rush forth from their hiding-places; and, seizing the struggling birds, put a quick termination to their fruitless efforts, by biting each of them in the neck. Old, half-toothless crones—for this is especially their part of the performance—will be seen thus giving the finalcoupto the beautiful but unfortunate wanderers!
And still we have not explained what the boys are doing up yonder. Well, we shall now announce theirmétier. Each has taken up with him a number of little billets of wood, fashioned something like the letter T, and about six inches in length. When this billet is flung into the air, and twirls about in its descent, it exhibits some resemblance—though not a very close one—to a flying pigeon-hawk. The resemblance, however, is near enough to “do” the pigeons; for when they are within about one hundred yards of the crows’ nest, the boy launches his billet into the air, and the birds, believing it to be a hawk, immediately dip several yards in their flight—as they may be seen to do when a real hawk makes his appearance. This descent usually brings them low enough to pass between the trees; and of course the old women soon get their teeth upon them.
The pigeon-catching is not free to every one who may take a “fancy” to it. There are pigeon-catchers by trade; who, with their families, follow it as a regular calling during the season, while it lasts; and this, as already stated, is in the months of September and October. ThePalombière, or pigeon-ridge, belongs to the communal authorities, who let it out in sections to the people that follow the calling of pigeon-netting; and these, in their turn, dispose of the produce of their nets in the markets of Bagnères and other neighbouring towns.
Every one knows how excellent for the table is the flesh of this beautiful bird: so much is it esteemed, that even at Bagnères, in the season of their greatest plenty, a pair will fetch a market price of from twelve to twenty sous.