CHAPTER VI

ABOUT BEARS: BY ONE OF THEM

I

I come of what those conceited creatures, the humans, would probably

call humble parentage. In other words, I belong to the great Ursine

family: I am a bear. I may as well say at once, in order that there

may be no misunderstandings between the humans and myself, in case my

life story should ever come into their hands, that I do not in the

slightest degree share their opinion as to the relative position in

the scale of existence occupied respectively by them and by me.

Indeed, if they will excuse my saying so, in my humble judgment I am

at least as good as they are, and perhaps a little better. For

instance, to compare us physically, I am taller than many, and

broader, stronger, braver, fleeter, more majestic than the best of

them. A human is a mere toy in my hands, as I have proved over and

over again--why, there was old Ivan the keeper, only last month,

he--but I am digressing. Ha ha! I can't help laughing, though, when I

recall poor Ivan's face as I hugged him--my! how his tongue did stick

out!

Again, if we are compared intellectually, I very much doubt whether

we bears are so inferior as my friends the humans suppose. We do not

talk their language--true! but, do they talk ours? I think not. On

the other hand, we _understand_ theirs--while they are ignorant

altogether of ours!

As for their sciences, their education, their 'ologies (which they

think so much of), their arts, their wars, their politics, their

freedom--freedom! ha ha! it is not _our_ notion of freedom!--do all

these things render them the happier? What has all this "civilisation,"

so called, done for them? Are they freer than I am? Do they get more

to eat and drink, and pay less for their victuals?

Well, well! I must not continue in this strain, airing my pet ideas

instead of proceeding with what I intended to be a mere record of my

own personal career; I could say much in support of the opinion

expressed at the beginning of this chapter: namely, that we bears are

just as good, if not a little better, than the human race; but then,

after all, I shall never succeed in convincing the conceited--the

_most_ conceited of all creatures--man, of his inferiority: as for

my ursine readers;--well, we know what we know!

My earliest recollections are among the most painful of all those

scenes of my life which have impressed themselves upon my memory; for

they are connected with the murder of my dear mother--the base and

barbarous murder of as good and indulgent a mother as ever brought

into the world and nourished a promising little Bruin family, for

such, I think, my small brothers and sisters and I may fairly be

called. I will record the shocking circumstances of our great domestic

tragedy exactly as they occurred. My earliest recollections are of

life in a dark and confined space in which my two brothers and my two

sisters and I had but little room for our juvenile recreations. I

remember a dear old mother who divided her time in sleeping, and

admonishing and educating us. We were born in this place, she told us;

it was called a "_berloga_," and was the den she had prepared for

herself as a shelter during the long months of a cold and cruel

Russian winter. It was not cold inside this den of ours, on the

contrary it was very warm indeed. We had been born in December, and

between that month and March we had had plenty of time to grow--we

little ones--so that the _berloga_, which had been amply large

enough for my mother alone, had become what I may describe as a tight

fit for the six of us. It was lucky, mother used to say, that father

was not with us at the time. He was away--she did not seem to know

where, exactly, but she had arranged to meet him near a certain

village, whose name she mentioned, some time in spring. I remember our

mother used often to say, "_Do_ let me go to sleep now, my dears;

when you are older you will understand how difficult it is to keep

awake in the winter time after the fatigues of a long season!" and,

indeed, the good soul used frequently to fall fast asleep in the very

midst of our lesson time--much to our joy, for we were always ready

for a game of romps in that heyday time of childhood. Mother would

have slept the whole winter but for us brats, she used to tell us!

Well, one day about the end of March, when the other children and I

were busily engaged in rolling over one another, and pretending to

worry each other's ears, which was a favourite game of ours, we heard

a terrible noise outside. Up to this time we had never heard any sound

at all excepting such as we made ourselves. There were shouts and

barking of dogs, and a creature--whom I afterwards discovered to be a

human--was knocking at the sides of our house with a long pole--we

could see all this through a small peephole which we kept open. We

also saw other human creatures standing near. These last held in their

hands steel sticks clubbed at one end, and were looking straight into

the mouth of the den. Mother was fast asleep and we were obliged to

awake her, for we felt alarmed at the aspect of these human creatures,

puny beings though they seemed when compared with our beloved parent,

who was so very much larger and stronger than they.

Mother started up and rubbed her eyes: "What is it, you tiresome

children?" she asked. Just at this moment she caught sight of the man

who, with his pole, was pushing and striking at the snowed-up mouth of

the _berloga_. Immediately mother's face and form changed. I had

never seen her look as she now did. Her beautiful brown coat stood out

and her ears went back. Red blood came into her eyes, and her claws

stretched out to their full length. She growled savagely, and for a

moment or two glared at the human disturber of her peace as though she

would every instant rush out and tear him limb from limb. At last she

spoke to us: "Children," she said, "we are in great danger, and I know

not what best to do: you are so young to take care of yourselves!"

"Take care of ourselves, mother?" we said--"what do you mean! you are

not going to leave us?"

"Not if I can help it, dears," said my mother, licking and caressing

us each in turn, as she spoke: "but do you see the sticks which yonder

men hold in their hands? those are called guns; they are terrible

things, and spit fire and smoke at us bears. But for them, I should

fall upon these human miscreants and we should sup upon their

flesh--which is very good eating, and some bears prefer it to a

vegetable diet. As it is, I shall spring first at this man with the

pole--he cannot hurt me. Then I shall attack the others; but, dear

children, it is very dangerous, for the contest is unequal; those

fire-sticks may kill me before I reach them. If they do, you must all

stay as still as mice in here--perhaps they will not see you. Should

they see you, you must run for it; keep behind the trees, and don't

run across the snow patches, of which there are still some about, for

that will leaves traces of the direction you have taken, and you may

be followed. If you escape, find some lair for yourselves and keep

together for warmth. Eat what you can find. And now, dear children, we

must part: if I escape with my life I shall soon return and find you;

if not, good-bye--don't forget your mother and all her advice!"

With these words our dear mother suddenly sprang out of the _berloga_,

and in an instant had knocked down the human who was the nearest to

us--him with the pole. Then without waiting a second she hurled

herself upon the other two creatures, those which held the

fire-sticks, or guns. Instantly there was a terrific noise, like a

clap of thunder, but shorter and louder; followed by a second and a

third. But mother had reached the nearer of the two humans and had

risen on her hind feet with such a roar that even we, her children,

were startled and frightened. She seemed to reach and claw at him--oh!

how majestic and grand she looked compared with her puny antagonist.

Then she and he fell over together, and I saw the second creature

point his fire-stick at them as they rolled on the ground; it spat out

its fire again, and mother rose and disappeared among the trees! Dear,

brave mother! what a glorious fight she made of it--and she had

escaped after all, then! good, brave mother! Very soon we saw the

pole-man rise and rub his head, and he and the third man creature went

together to look at the second, who was lying as mother had left him,

upon the ground. They did not seem to be able to mend him, however,

for he still lay on and took no notice of them. But all this time a

horrid little white creature who was with them, a thing called a dog,

had been poking around our den with its tail tucked tightly between

its hind legs--an ugly and silly habit of these creatures when they

feel alarmed. He was sniffing about the mouth of the lair, and

suddenly--entering a foot or two further than he had ventured

before--caught sight of one of my sisters. He instantly turned and

ran out of the _berloga_ as fast as he could lay his wretched thin

legs to the ground, barking and yelping, and my silly little sister,

unable to resist the temptation, must needs run after him. Immediately

there was another explosion from the man with the fire-stick, and poor

little Katia, my sister, rolled over and over and then lay quite

still--dead; murdered!

"Here! Ivan!" cried the man, "go into the _berloga_ and see if

there are more of the little brutes--try and catch one or two alive

for the Zoo!"

It was all up! Ivan came blundering into our house, groping about with

his hands, for it was too dark to see anything. We all lay still, for

we were too small to hurt him, and we hoped to escape. But his hand

came in contact with little Mishka's coat and Ivan held on tight, in

spite of poor Mishka's struggles and snarls and bites. The rest of us,

not wishing to lose our freedom, rushed out of the lair, leaving

Mishka in Ivan's hands, a captive. As we darted out and made for the

shelter of the trees, remembering mother's advice, the dreadful

fire-stick spat out its fire and smoke at us, but none of us were hurt

by it, and Vainka, Natasha, and I got safely away and huddled

ourselves together inside the trunk of an old dead pine tree. Here we

stayed for hours, not daring to move for fear of being found by the

cruel humans and their fire-sticks. When it began to grow dark we

ventured out and crept back to the _berloga_. There was no sign

of the humans; poor dead Katia had been taken away and little prisoner

Mishka also; but where was mother? We wandered about calling for her

in all directions; at last--just as we were giving up the search for

the night--Natasha heard a sound which she said she was sure was our

dear mother crying. Then we all listened and heard it, and proceeding

in the direction from which it seemed to come, we found poor dear

mother lying stretched upon the ground, bleeding and weak. She had

three horrible wounds, all given by those detestable fire-spitting

sticks called guns, and her life-blood was fast oozing from them.

"I am dying, my children," she said--"are you all safe?" She looked

around at us, with her poor glazing eyes, and noticed that some were

missing.

"Where are Katia and Mishka?" she asked. We were obliged to tell the

sad truth.

Again we saw that dreadful look of savage hatred come over mother's

face. For a few moments she could say nothing; then at last she

muttered:

"Promise me, children, that throughout your lives you will hate and

fight mankind, wherever you meet his detested offspring! promise me

this, and I shall die happy!"

We all promised faithfully to do as she wished. These were dear

mother's last words to us, and a few moments later she died and her

soul flew away to those happy hunting-grounds where, as we bears are

taught to believe, it is our part to handle the fire-sticks, and that

of the human beings to be hunted!

Thus we lost our dear mother, together with a small sister and brother

whom we could better spare. Considering the circumstances of our

deprivation, by means of the foulest murder, of a parent's care and

authority, and of our last promise to a beloved and dying mother, is

it to be wondered at that I can never cherish any other feeling

towards that arch-enemy of my family--_man_, than hatred, and that of

the deepest? My brother Mishka, from whom I hear occasionally, in a

manner utterly unsuspected by his "Keepers" in the Zoological Gardens

at St. Petersburg, frequently does his best to persuade me to modify

my opinion of and conduct towards mankind. He says the humans are not

nearly so bad as one thinks, and that he has a very good time in his

perpetual _berloga_ (from which the poor fellow cannot escape), and

gets plenty of victuals of the best quality. He says he likes children

the best--they are so very generous with their buns and cakes. Ha ha!

I agree with him about the youngsters! I like the children best, too!

they are so deliciously tender and flaky. I have enjoyed several, and

sincerely hope I have not tasted my last.

But I must proceed with my narrative. This then was to be the pivot

upon which my future career was to turn: hatred of and animosity

towards the human race. If I could at any time injure their persons or

damage their property it should be done; I had vowed it; that very

night as we three children lay huddled and trembling, poor orphans of

a murdered mother, within our desolate _berloga_, we all vowed it. Man

was henceforth our enemy.

We were all reduced to great straits just at this time, for a living.

Poor little creatures that we were, it puzzles me now, when I think of

it, how we managed to pull through that dreadful period. The fact of

the matter is, we were obliged to eat all sorts of things which we

should otherwise have left alone; it was now April, and we contrived

to live upon the young leaves and grass blades and shoots of various

trees and bushes, together with--I blush to record it--field-mice,

squirrels, an occasional hare, and sometimes a partridge or grey hen,

when one could be found obligingly sitting on a nestful of eggs and

dreaming of the joys of maternity. We ate the eggs also.

So we dragged along until July came. But each day life became easier

and more enjoyable, for the rye and oats soon began to grow tall in

the fields surrounding the villages; the bees were up and about, and

furnished us with the perfectly delicious results of their labours;

and the woods gradually filled themselves with berries and luxuries of

all sorts. When the oats were ripe we fared magnificently.

One day we met a splendid specimen of our family whom we soon

discovered to be none other than our father--the consort of our dear

mother, now deceased. He received us fairly well; but my veneration

for the paternal relative suffered a rude shock when he informed my

brother and sister and myself that, with every desire to be a good

father to us, he could not permit us to trespass upon a certain

oat-field which he declared did not contain any more than he

absolutely required for his own subsistence. He made some sympathetic

remarks as to mother's death, with his mouth full of delicious ripe

oats, and then bade farewell of us (meaning _us_ to go--he evidently

had no intention of leaving the field!), remarking, cordially enough,

that he would always be glad to see us, and to hear of any favourable

feeding-grounds we might come across, if large enough for all, "but

never mind your old father if rations are scarce!" he added. I never

saw my parent again. Very shortly after the day upon which he warned

us off that oat-field, which--by the way--_we_ had discovered, he

actually permitted himself to be driven away from its precincts by a

mere peasant-human armed with an axe. I fancy my father must be a very

inferior person compared with my good brave mother. _She_ would have

behaved very differently towards that peasant--we should undoubtedly

have had him for supper: oats, peasant, and honey; a supper of three

courses fit for the gods. But for a member of the family of Ursidæ to

be ignominiously chased away from an oat-field by a peasant--oh! dear

me--disgraceful! disgraceful!

II

Well, it was a grand time for us, that first summer. How we grew and

fattened! By the early part of the autumn, we were really quite

respectable-sized members of the community. About this time we lost

our brother Vainka. It was an exciting thing, rather, and I will note

down the story in full. It was like this.

We were all three busily engaged in breakfasting among the tall stems

of a rye-field, near a village, when we observed several human

children playing about in an adjoining belt of pasture-land. There

were no grown men present, so far as we were aware, and we determined

to amuse ourselves, and at the same time to piously observe the

injunctions of our dear mother deceased, by doing our best to frighten

the brats out of their wits, and, if possible, injure them besides; we

were too small, as yet, to do them any very serious harm; in fact,

they were rather bigger, I think, than we.

So we crept towards them, hidden from view by the beautiful thick

rye-stalks, until we were close to the edge of the pasture-field.

Then, at a signal from Natasha, we all three pounced out upon them,

growling and open-mouthed. Oh dear, oh dear! it was a funny sight to

see those children! The silly creatures were too startled to move

until we were upon them. They stood staring and shrieking, with eyes

and mouth open, and turned to run only when it was too late. How we

laughed as we rolled them over and over in the grass and scratched

their faces, and tore their dresses off their backs! and how they

screamed! The whole population of the village rushed out to see what

all the noise was about, big men and women with axes and long things

called scythes, and then we thought it was time to retire among our

rye-stalks. There we hid ourselves and laughed, and ate the delicious

cool, juicy grasses, and the luscious rye-grains, until we could eat

and laugh no more, and determined to make a move into the woods, in

order to have a good drink in a moss pool we knew of and then lie down

a bit and sleep off the excitement. But to our horror we found that

those mean wretches, the humans belonging to the village, were waiting

for us outside the cover. They had sneaked up and surrounded us, and

were sitting silently all along the edge of the field, armed with

their axes and scythes and nets; luckily they had no fire-sticks!

Well, Vainka was, as it happened, the first to step out from among

the rye-stalks, and he was immediately confronted by two women and a

man who ran after him--one getting in front and one on each side.

While they were busy with him, however, Natasha and I escaped

unnoticed and were able to watch the pursuit of poor Vainka from a

position of safety. One of the women had a crawfish net with a long

wooden handle. This creature kept calling to the others, "Don't kill

him, don't kill him! we'll take him alive!" The others seemed to

agree, for they closed in upon poor little Vainka and placed the

crawfish net tightly over his head and face, so that, though he fought

fiercely and bravely for liberty, he was quite powerless to hurt them.

Then they led him away to the village and we saw him no more.

I have seen him often since, however, for his "master" (!) still lives

in this village and brings him down from town at certain seasons.

Vainka goes to town (St. Petersburg) in order to amuse the people by

dancing on his hind legs, pretending to wrestle with his master, and

other foolery, and with--I blush to record it--with a ring through his

nostrils, to which a chain is attached. Poor dear old Vainka--his

spirit is completely broken; he has actually learned to tolerate

human-kind, and declares that they only require to be known in order

to be appreciated, and that he does not think he could exist now

without the applause which his performances call forth from the vulgar

brutes of humans who have degraded him. Ugh! it is shameful! He has

twice escaped from the village and joined me--but I will, I think,

relate these episodes in full, in their proper place in this

narrative; for my ursine friends may learn much by a careful

consideration of the events, and I should not like to deprive them of

the advantage of considering this matter in the light of a thorough

and intimate knowledge of the circumstances. Meanwhile, I must relate

the sad story of how Natasha and I separated--after, alas! a quarrel.

It was after our first winter alone--without mother and the rest, I

mean. Natasha and I spent that winter together, in one _berloga_,

for warmth. It was a very uneventful time, for we were not disturbed

from November to April, and slept steadily on through all those

months. It was then that we realised how dreadfully we must have

worried poor dear mother in the preceding year by keeping her awake

during that long period when we bears feel as though it were

impossible, whatever happened, to rouse ourselves, and would almost

sooner die than move. But to continue: when spring came and we sallied

forth from our winter quarters, we were both so hungry that positively

we could almost have eaten one another. Just outside a village close

by, as we were prowling around, hoping to find some sort of food,

Natasha taking one side of the village and I the other, I had made my

half round without success and was awaiting my sister with some degree

of impatience, when I saw a dog issue from one of the huts and trot

away across a field. The next instant I heard a yelping and observed

Natasha in full pursuit, and scarcely a yard away from the dog's tail.

Then they both disappeared behind a hedge, and for a moment the

yelping was redoubled, and then ceased altogether. I hurried along to

join and congratulate Natasha, as well as to take my share in a dinner

which I felt that I required very badly, when suddenly I met Natasha

returning.

"Well, where's the dog?" I said--feeling, I know not why, a strange

sinking at the heart.

"What dog?" said Natasha, drooping her head a little and averting her

face.

"Why, the dog you were hunting a moment ago!" I said.

"Oh, it escaped," said Natasha, who had some whitish fur, which was

not her own, sticking to the corner of her mouth.

"Oh--you _nearly_ caught it, I see!" said I.

"Yes, I very nearly caught it," said my sister, her voice dying away

to nothing at the end of the sentence.

Well--I believed her, for we had never, as yet, deceived one another

to any great extent.

Half an hour afterwards, as we were roaming the woods looking for

something solid to eat, I suddenly missed Natasha. I called for her

and searched the wood, but all in vain. I therefore left the forest

and retraced my steps towards the open fields close, to the village.

There, after considerable hunting and much waste of time and temper, I

at last came upon my sister, who was just polishing off the last

remnants of the carcase of a dog. I fell upon her without a word, for

she had deceived me and was unworthy of courtesy at my hands. Up to

this time I had always been polite and kind and--in its best

sense--brotherly towards Natasha; therefore she was astonished and

indignant when I attacked her. I must confess I punished her savagely,

for I was very angry and very hungry as well; indeed, I did not leave

her alone until I had pretty nearly worried the breath out of her

body. When she picked herself up from the grass she made off

immediately, without making any remark either of abuse or excuse, and,

as I have never set eyes on her since that morning, I conclude that

she emigrated to a distant part of the country. I cannot say I was

sorry, for I should never have regained that confidence in her which

her deceitful conduct on this occasion entirely destroyed, and the

relations between us would have been so strained as to render life

unpleasant.

So there was an end of family life for me--as a bachelor, of course.

My father--well, the less said about my poor old selfish pater, the

better. My mother, bless her, dead; my sister Katia dead also; Mishka

and Vainka both prisoners, one at the Zoo, in St. Petersburg, the

other in a village not far away from my own domain; and Natasha, as I

have explained, an exile--a discredited fugitive from her native

woods!

Soon after Natasha's disappearance, however, at least in the autumn of

the same year, just before I had chosen the spot in which I should

winter, something happened which filled me with true joy and

thankfulness: for I have a tender heart in spite of what I have just

recorded of my conduct towards Natasha.

I was wandering about the forest feeling very weary, and longing for

the first fall of snow to herald in the approaching winter and allow

of my retiring for the season. Hearing a noise behind me--a puffing,

grunting noise which seemed to indicate the presence of one of my own

species,--I turned quickly round to see who this could possibly be;

and, if a stranger, to warn him that he was trespassing upon land

which already belonged to me by the sacred rights summed up in the

ancient Roman law which all bears excepting extremely large ones still

recognise as binding: "_beati possidentes_." What was my delight

to see my dear old brother Vainka puffing and blowing after me as fast

as his poor old legs and lungs--both sadly out of condition,--could

bring him. He had a ring through his nose, and from this there dangled

a piece of chain, and from the end of the chain a torn portion of a

halter.

We rushed towards one another:

"Why, Vainka!" I exclaimed: "where in fortune's name do _you_ come

from, and how did you escape?"

"It's a long story!" said Vainka--"never mind the details--here I am!

I bit through the rope, as you see, and escaped from the barn at night

by breaking down the door: now let's have some food! when we are in

the _berloga_, which I suppose will be to-morrow--I hope so, for

I'm dead tired" (here he yawned twice and I followed suit)--"I'll tell

you all about it."

I gave him a capital dinner considering the time of year, including

some honey--of which I knew of a good store, and showed him the spot I

had chosen for the _berloga_, which he quite approved of.

During the course of conversation, Vainka informed me that he had

grown quite fond of his "master," and would not care to do him an

injury; but at the same time he wished to mention that there were six

young sheep grazing in the field behind the house he (Vainka)

inhabited, and that he should imagine these sheep would make a

delightful meal for any one liking mutton. Personally, he said, he

would rather not touch them, and he hoped, for his master's sake, that

no one else would; but that they were in such and such a field, and

the humans never left the house before 6 A.M. A really good feed, he

remarked, was considered by some people to be an advantage just before

retiring for a sleep of several months.

He was perfectly right. Those young sheep were quite delicious; and

while we gaily consumed them for dinner next day old Vainka gave me

many hints as to the exact disposal, by humans, of their time,--hints

which have ever since been extremely useful to me in various ways. Did

I mention that Vainka consumed his share of the two sheep which found

their way to our larder? well, he did--anyhow; and enjoyed them very

much, but was deeply put out (after he had dined) to remember that the

mutton had belonged to his master. He would not, he said, for anything

have touched it had he recalled that fact in time.

That day the snow came, and, after performing those maze-like

evolutions in which our family invariably indulge at this time of

year, and which are designed to bewilder any human being who might

wander our way and wish to track us, with sinister purpose, to our

lair, we lay down, and overcome by fatigue and--well, mutton--fell

asleep almost immediately. I had endeavoured, but in vain, to remove

the badge of servitude and disgrace which poor Vainka was condemned to

wear in the shape of the ring and chain, but could do nothing with

it--Vainka had been obliged to settle down with the cruel, detestable

thing still attached to his nose--bah!

The next thing either of us was conscious of was a knocking at the

sides of our snowy, or icy house. The noise immediately aroused us,

for it recalled a similar sound which we had good cause to remember,

and carried us back to that dreadful day when our poor mother had been

done to death, together with little Katia. On peeping through the hole

we soon perceived that we were besieged by two men--both of whom were

peasants. One of these held a fire-stick, and the sight of it put my

heart all of a quake; for I confess, though I fear nothing else in the

world, I am terribly frightened of that dreadful, death-spitting

stick, called gun. But Vainka touched my shoulder: "The one with the

gun," he whispered, "is my master: what's to be done?"

I didn't know. Then Vainka rose to the emergency and did that for

which I shall always feel reverently and admiringly grateful to him.

He undertook to see me safely out of the difficulty by giving himself

up.

"They'll never dream that _you_ are here as well as I," he said;

"all you have to do is to stay snugly inside and let me go out: they

won't shoot me; I am too valuable to them!"

I protested that this sacrifice was too noble; that I could not permit

such self-abnegation on my account!

"Self-abnegation?" said Vainka; "nonsense! it's nothing of the sort. I

declare to you that I would rather go back to the humans than earn my

living in the woods; I came away because I pined for the winter sleep

for which my nature yearns--I should have had to work, with them;

_now_, I have had my rest and am as fresh as a daisy!"

I really believe the good fellow meant it. At all events, since I

should certainly be killed or wounded if I went out and he would as

certainly only be captured, it was clearly better that he should go

than I; for he might always escape again; while I, if once killed,

should appear upon the scene no more. So I embraced my dear Vainka,

thanked him heartily for saving my life at the expense of his liberty

(at which he smiled and said he didn't believe in liberty), and let

him go--lying very close myself, and watching the development of

circumstances through the peephole.

I must say that, in spite of all my hatred for mankind, I was a little

softened towards Vainka's friends, on this occasion, by the events

which now took place.

Vainka broke through the wall of our _berloga_ and deliberately

stepped out. The man with the pole quickly got out of the way, while

the other raised his gun. For an instant I was in dread lest he should

not recognise my dear brother in time, and was on the point of rushing

forth to strike him dead before he should have slaughtered poor

confiding Vainka, when, luckily for us all (for I should not have been

in time), he dropped his arm, raised his hand to shade his eyes,

stared, and broke into a roar of laughter: "Why!" he cried, "strike me

blind if it isn't dear old Mishka himself!" (The humans, for reasons

best known to themselves, call us all "Mishka.")

With these words, he rushed up to Vainka, caught hold of the chain

(the wrench to V.'s nose must have been exceedingly painful!) put both

arms round my brother's neck, and commenced to kiss and to hug him in

the most comical manner. He really appeared to be quite fond of

Vainka, and Vainka himself seemed almost as glad to greet _him_.

Then the peasant took some lumps of the cooked rye, which my brother

says is so delicious (and which, I may mention, I believe in my heart

to be one of the chief causes of Vainka's marvellous attachment to the

debased life he leads!), and fed his new-found and long-lost friend.

Vainka dropped a large piece of it on the ground, and I imagine the

good fellow meant it for me; but the frugal peasant picked it up and

pocketed it, so that I was not able to taste the vaunted stuff--bah!

I'm sure it isn't up to July oats or honey, or even baby--which is

delicious when one happens to be of a carnivorous turn of mind, as one

is sometimes.

Then they all went away and left me, never dreaming--as Vainka rightly

anticipated--that another bear lay concealed within the _berloga_, and

that Master Mishka, as they called him, was but my guest. Ha! ha! I

should have liked to have dashed out and smashed them both--the men, I

mean, when their backs were turned! I burned to do it--but discretion

gained the day: there was that accursed fire-stick to be reckoned

with: I have been told that guns can be made to spit their fire in an

instant even when a man has been knocked down and is lying upon the

ground. So I refrained and stayed where I was, and in a while fell

asleep once more, sleeping safely and comfortably until April, when I

left the den and went out once again upon my travels.

I had one other visit from Vainka, a few months later.

I had been hunting near his village, when of a sudden I became aware

of Master V. approaching me through a thin birch spinney which lay

between me and the fields around the hamlet. He looked very

dejected--not at all as one would expect a bear to look who had just

regained his liberty! He brightened up a little when he saw me.

"Is anything the matter, brother?" I inquired, as I went to meet him.

"Nothing whatever," he said, "excepting that, curiously enough, I do

not feel inclined to escape, and yet here I am, in the act of

escaping!"

"But how can that be?" I said; "in the first place you _must_ be

glad to escape--no bear of any self-respect could help feeling glad;

and besides, how could you possibly escape against your will?"

"Well," he said, "perhaps I have no self-respect; anyhow I only came

because they left the door of the stable wide open and my chain was

off at the time. All I had to do was to walk out, and now I wish I

hadn't! This is just the time when little Masha brings me my lunch of

delicious bread" (that's the cooked rye I mentioned), "and--and--upon

my word I think I shall go back--what's the use of being free--I am no

longer fitted for a wild life."

And sure enough the poor-spirited creature, whose once keen, free

spirit had been entirely deadened by contact with the humans and their

debasing life, would have made off then and there!

But I stopped him. "You shall do nothing of the kind, my friend!" I

said firmly. "You shall come into the woods with me and have a good

time, and when you've enjoyed a run and some fresh air and natural

food, you shall do as you like! Come on!" So I got him away, and for

three days we had the grandest fun in the world. He cheered up and

agreed to join me in a little hunting close to a neighbouring

village--he would do nothing near his own. We killed two dogs, a young

cow, and some sheep, old Vainka thoroughly entering into the spirit of

the fun, and even enjoying the wild fury of the humans, who could not

find us--there being no snow.

But after three days of freedom and real life Vainka grew home-sick.

He yawned frequently, and said how sad little Masha would be without

him, and wondered what she was doing now--and now, and whether his

master--whom, in spite of his solemn vows to our mother, he had

evidently learned to love--was quite well--and so on. He became so

melancholy and maudlin, that I perceived it was no use fighting

against destiny, and I recommended him to be off to his dancing and

skipping and his Masha and his confounded man-worship--and away he

went--poor fellow! as clear a case of a good bear gone wrong as it has

ever been my lot to come across.

III

The foregoing episode is a narrative of my last visit from Vainka. I

have seen the poor old fellow now and again and communicated with him

by signs, the nature of which my ursine readers will at once

comprehend, but which--in case any artful human should happen to

decipher these memoirs--I will not describe in detail. Both Vainka and

Mishka are--much as I deplore the fact--now quite gone over to the

enemy; they are, both of them, more man than bear, and this in spite

of the tragic and bloody reasons which they, in common with myself,

should cherish in their deepest hearts for loathing the very creatures

whom they have learned to love--bah! it is unnatural, it is

unbear-like, it is sickening.

I, for my part, have kept my vow as made to our murdered mother. I

think I may fairly boast that this is so. Perhaps if I relate one or

two of my principal adventures with mankind, my readers will do me the

justice to admit that I have done my best. I hope they will do

_themselves_ the justice to follow my example. Mankind should be

suppressed, wherever found.

The first human being I successfully attacked and killed was a grown

man, a peasant; the second was a baby. The latter was delicious, and I

can safely recommend such of my relatives as have adhered, hitherto,

to vegetarian principles, to relax them in favour, at least, of this

dish.

Babies are not always easily procured; but a little excitement adds, I

consider, zest to the pursuit. I may say at once that babies, in spite

of the terrible noise which they are undoubtedly capable of producing,

are perfectly harmless. They may be found occasionally lying on the

grass close to rye or oat fields in which human beings are busy

cutting down the food which naturally belongs to us, not to them. This

is an act of burglary, and is punishable with singular propriety;

because while these thieving humans are intent upon depriving us of

our property it is the easiest matter in the world to creep up and

make oneself master of _theirs_, in the shape of the babies which

they leave in the adjoining field, ostensibly to take care of the food

and drink which is packed in baskets for their dinner--though I must

say it is just like human stupidity to place a helpless thing like a

baby in charge of valuable property. I have never yet seen one raise a

hand to protect its mother's dinner. But, as usual, I am wandering

from my immediate subject, which is--a description of my first man.

It was towards evening one summer day, and I was wandering slowly

through the wood. I was not in the best of humours, for a field of

oats upon which I had been supporting myself for several days was this

afternoon in the hands of the "reapers," as they call themselves:

_thieves_, as I call them! I had come there for my dinner and found

the gang of humans busy at the oats with scythe and reaping-hook. What

could I do? there was nothing to be done, excepting to show my teeth

and bristle up my coat at them--and since they did not see me that was

not of much practical use! So I went away again, cross and revengeful,

and as I roamed about the woods, fuming and hungry, whom should I meet

of a sudden but a tall peasant, wearing an axe in his belt but

otherwise unarmed.

For an instant we both stopped, surprised and startled. Then, full of

the hatred for his kind which I always felt but which had received an

additional stimulus in the oat-field this afternoon, I raised myself

upon my hind feet and caught hold of him. He tried to reach his axe,

but I had gripped his arm and he could not. His face was a study: he

had become very pale and his eyes were protruding: froth came from his

mouth together with spluttering words--bad language, of course; those

disgusting peasant creatures never open their lips without using

language such as a bear would be shocked to employ. I leant upon him,

bending my whole weight forward, growling fiercely, and reaching for

his throat with my teeth. I felt a strong lust for blood, and my rage

increased with every second. I knew that I must kill this man, and

that he could not escape me or injure me. My fury knew no bounds; I

seemed to hate him all the more for being in my power, and I bore him

pitilessly down to the earth--I was far heavier than he. Then I seized

his throat in my teeth and his head with my claws and enjoyed myself.

How he kicked and struggled for a few seconds--only a few--I wish it

had been more!--then he lay perfectly still, and I knew that I had

slain my first man. I was not anxious to eat him: I had not as yet

learned that human flesh is good, especially that of babies; therefore

I mauled him savagely for several minutes in order to make sure there

should be no mistake about his incapacity for future mischief and

treachery, which is all that his kind live for--and then I left him to

the crows. But as I raised myself from his body I muttered to myself,

"There, mother! Though thousands of executions could never avenge your

assassination, here lies one, at least, of the hated family which

murdered you!" I felt more or less appeased after the pious act of

filial vengeance which I have just recorded, and ate my supper that

night with a light heart--the supper consisting of some of the very

oats which the peasants had thought to deprive me of! The silly

creatures had cut the oats and tied them in bundles, which was

extremely convenient for me, and saved me the trouble of picking the

ears of grain for myself.

As for my first baby meal, that was a very simple affair: the small

creature was lying, rolling about, in the grass while her mother (I

suppose they have mothers, such as they are) was reaping together with

a host of other humans in the adjoining field. The forest was the

common boundary of the two fields, and all I had to do was to creep a

few yards from the wood, take the goods the gods provided, and retire

to enjoy them. I did this with entire success, catching hold of the

imp with one arm and hobbling along on three feet. But that baby made

such a terrific caterwauling that positively I nearly dropped him out

of pure anxiety for the drums of my ears. His mother rushed out from

among the oat stalks and ran after me, though she did not see me, in

the direction of the baby's cries, but she soon returned: I think one

of her companions called to her that it was only the child, was gone

and that her dinner was all right, wrapped up in a red pocket

handkerchief. Well, that baby was the most delightful thing I had ever

tasted, and I then and there determined that this dainty should form

an item of my diet whenever obtainable. It is in season all the year

round; but difficult to obtain at any time except summer.

I must just add to the above narrative, that as I lay enjoying my

dinner within the pine forest, scarcely fifty yards from those

peasants, I could distinctly overhear their remarks as to the

disappearance of the young human at that moment forming the staple

item of my dinner. It appeared that I was not suspected. The whole

odium of the affair was laid upon certain people who, however

disreputable and disagreeable they may be (and they certainly are

_both_), were at all events innocent of this "crime." I mean those

impostors and cads, the wolves. Many of my most successful enterprises

in and about villages have been laid to the charge of wolves: so be

it! this cannot injure me. True, I should like to have the credit of

certain of my exploits! those in which mankind have been destroyed,

especially; but it is very amusing when you have successfully robbed

an enemy, to hear some one else blamed and vengeance vowed upon

persons who have had nothing whatever to do with the affair. So it was

in the matter of my first baby. Not a man, woman, or child present but

endeavoured to console the weeping mother by vowing vengeance upon the

thieving "wolf," for she really did weep, though, as I have already

declared, I did not touch her dinner but only a useless, squealing

baby. That she did not really regret the loss of the tiny creature was

abundantly proved by her own assertions at the time; for she several

times repeated that it was, after all, "better so;" that the baby

would never be hungry again (that it certainly would not!), or feel

pain or worry of any sort, with more to the same effect, and all, of

course, perfectly true. For all that, she cried steadily on, as she

worked, and many of the other women cried also, though they all agreed

as to the fact that things were better as they were, and repeated this

a hundred times. Of course things were better as they were. What

better or worthier thing could a human baby do than provide a dinner

for one of the Ursidæ? All I desired was that they should so

thoroughly feel the force of the truism, as to bring me another tender

morsel without delay. This, however, they did not do. On the contrary,

they brought dogs instead of babies, and I felt that, though dog is

tasty enough when nothing better is obtainable, I would transfer my

custom, for the present, to another parish.

And now I propose to dismiss for a while the disagreeable subject of

the human race, and to give my readers a glimpse into some of the

dangers and difficulties which I have at different times of my life

encountered while living the free and, on the whole, happy life of the

woods.

I have incidentally referred to certain persons for whom I have the

supremest contempt, as for animals of an altogether inferior rank in

the scale of life: that is, inferior to our own; I would not go so far

as to say that they are not superior to humans, for the latter, when

without their detestable fire-sticks, are contemptibly weak and

defenceless: their teeth are ridiculously inefficient, and as for

their claws--well, they have none, so far as I can ascertain. The

creatures I refer to are _wolves_, as they call themselves. These

are the very plebeians of the forest. They are hated by every

resident, great or small; for they are mean and cowardly creatures,

hunting in companies of three or four--they dare not show themselves

singly--and sometimes in packs of a dozen or more. A wolf, if

unaccompanied by his friends, would probably run away from a hare, and

hide himself from a little red fox. They are thieves of the first

water, besides, and have no respect whatever for the rights of

property. Many a time have I left a portion of some choice repast

which I was not capable of consuming at one sitting, expecting to find

and enjoy the remains on the following night. What I actually found

was a few white bones and the vision of two grey tails stuffed tightly

between four hind legs just in the act of disappearing into the

cover--ugh! they are cads--_cads_, that is just the word, the

only word for them.

Well, one fine evening, about September a year or two ago, as I was

strolling through the wood thinking of--well, I'll tell you all about

that presently--enough that I was thinking of _someone_ and feeling

rather love-sick and depressed--when I suddenly heard a cantering

noise behind me, and turning round I beheld seven very large wolves

coming up on my scent. The instant that I turned round the whole party

stopped, sat down on their haunches, and stared at me. They looked

hungry and wicked, but would not meet my eye. I darted at the nearest,

but in a moment he and his companions had disappeared--in the

marvellous way which these cowards understand so well. Oh ho! I

thought, if you are afraid to stand up to me you will certainly not

dare to pursue me! So I made off towards that portion of the forest in

which I generally took my night's rest. But I was mistaken in my

conclusions, for no sooner was I well on my way, than the cantering

sound recommenced, and the wolves were after me again. It was useless

to stop and attack them, for they are too active to be caught in this

way; I therefore decided to push along and take no notice. But before

many minutes had elapsed, the leading wolf began to set up that

loathsome howling of theirs, and was immediately imitated by the rest.

I hate noise, so I hurried on, hoping to shake them off--for I had not

as yet realised that these plebeians were actually organising a

pursuit with the ultimate object of tiring me out and pulling me down.

After all it takes some little while for the very idea of such an

unexampled insult as this to take root in the patrician mind: _me_ to

be pursued and pulled down by wolves! the thing was outrageous,

impossible! But I confess I was somewhat disconcerted when I realised

that the wolves were howling with a purpose; for in a very few minutes

I was aware of new arrivals among my pursuers: grey forms with bright,

hungry eyes, appeared in the moonlight to right and left of me; one or

two cantered on ahead--it was really growing a little exciting. I

stopped once more and turned to survey the pack and count the new

arrivals. As if by magic each wolf stopped dead and sat down, some

concealing themselves behind trees, others looking away; none ventured

to assume a threatening aspect As far as I could ascertain there were

now nearly twenty wolves present: the situation was not altogether a

pleasant one. Then I played a successful little ruse upon them. I

turned as though to fly, taking a few rapid strides forward; then I

suddenly stopped, and, as I had expected, the leader shot up to my

side before he could control the impetus which he had already gained.

Well--I had him in a moment, and I have reason to believe his own

mother would not have recognised him a minute or two afterwards, for I

made a very complete wreck of him, and left him literally torn to

pieces. During the operation, which did not occupy me very long, his

companions had totally disappeared: there was neither sound nor sight

of them. But, shall I be believed? no sooner did I leave him and

continue my journey than the unnatural creatures, instantly

reappearing from every side, fell upon their mangled brother and

consumed his body, quarrelling and snarling and fighting over him like

so many devils, which I believe they are under an assumed name!

I thought, for awhile, that I had shaken off the thieving brutes, but

this was not the case. I soon found that they were after me once more,

howling and snarling, every devil's son of them! I own that at this

point I suddenly lost heart and, to use a familiar expression, took to

my heels. I make this confession in all humility and with shame. Why I

lost heart I cannot explain. I have mentioned the depression of

spirits from which I was suffering this night, and I can only suppose

that it was the pandemonium of noise made by my pursuers which, acting

upon a state of mind already somewhat enfeebled by the depression

referred to, had relaxed my nerve-power and caused me to disgrace

myself in the manner indicated.

So I fled, I own it with shame; I fled at the top of my speed, pursued

by the howling pack of miserable plebs, which dared not come very

close, but followed me some ten yards behind and at each side,

trusting to my bulk and weight, which they hoped would prove so

cumbrous that I should be unable to run far without collapsing into a

defenceless condition of breathlessness and weakness, when they would,

they imagined, pull me down.

Well, so far as the breathlessness was concerned they proved perfectly

right. Not being accustomed to much running, I was naturally out of

condition; and consequently before I had run many miles I felt that

this sort of thing could not continue: I must devise some scheme by

which to put to flight or to evade the enemy. Then this idea suddenly

struck me: Why not climb a tree? Wolves are notoriously incapable of

climbing (after all, what _can_ a wolf do?). I should thus at least

gain time enough to recover my breath and consider my position.

No sooner thought of than done. I had not enjoyed much climbing of

late, so that I anticipated some little trouble and exertion in

reaching the required altitude; therefore I pushed along until I saw a

tree which looked easy to climb; then I ran to its foot, stopped, and

turned round.

As before, the wolves instantly, paused and sat down; while some, as

usual, disappeared. I immediately commenced the ascent of my tree

refuge. But no sooner did the wolves realise that this was my

intention than they seemed to gather courage from the prospect of

losing me, and with redoubled howls and noise they surrounded the tree

and actually dared to grab at my hind legs as I swarmed up the trunk.

I sustained one or two nasty bites during that degrading moment, but

those bites did for me what perhaps nothing else would have done. They

restored me to myself, and in addition inspired me with so terrible

and righteous a fury (and when we bears _do_ lose our tempers we

certainly are _properly_ angry!) that in an instant I was down

and among my pursuers--tearing, hugging, crushing!--oh, when I

remember that triumphant moment of crushing bones and ripping flesh my

heart fills with the emotion of pride and thankfulness to reflect that

I was born a bear and no other meaner creature! True, I have never

seen a lion, or tiger--both of which animals, tradition says, are

capable of slaying a bear; but with all deference to tradition I

prefer to think otherwise. I am told that lions and tigers are both

_cats_--cats!! I have seen, and I may add _eaten_, many cats, and

howsoever large and fierce these traditional members of the family may

be, I beg leave to state that, speaking for the Ursidæ generally, we

shall be delighted to see any number of lions, or tigers, or any other

form of cats in these parts, and to try conclusions with them. My

brother Mishka has seen, in the distance, specimens of the creatures

referred to in his home at the Zoological Gardens, and does not think

much of them, though, he says, they are large. Well, size is nothing;

a cow is big enough, in all conscience, but I have never had the

slightest difficulty in negotiating a cow, however large.

But to continue: it was a real pleasure to me--though I have seldom

been so angry--to rend and crush those too enterprising wolves who had

presumed to attack my person. When I had done with them, three lay

stiff and stark, while two others were limping and howling somewhere

out of sight among the bushes. As for me, I had a scratch or two, but

nothing to matter. I need hardly say that I was not molested again as

I deliberately climbed that tree and settled myself for the rest of

the night in a cosy corner among the branches. But no sooner was I out

of their reach than a dozen wolves came howling around the trunk and

leaping up in pretended anxiety to get at me. They were but playing a

part in order to deceive one another, of course; but this is the way

of wolves, who have no dignity and self-respect. Had I shown so much

as one tooth they would have instantly disappeared!

IV

So the night passed away, in perfect comfort for me and with quite as

much actual repose as could be expected, having regard to the

pandemonium going on below, where the wolves quarrelled and fought

over the bodies of their relatives, entirely consuming them among

themselves in a wonderfully short space of time. I was much amused to

watch their dealings with the wounded heroes who turned up to claim a

share in the feast. Not being in a condition to fight for the

disgusting food, they were themselves promptly set upon, slain by

their unwounded brethren, and eaten with the greatest gusto.

Whether my besiegers were satiated with the feast I had thus provided

for them, or whether--like all malefactors--they were afraid of the

daylight, I know not; but it is certain that soon after the last bone

had been picked, and just as the began to show signs in the east of

his intentions with regard to another day, they all departed. Had they

remained I should have attacked them, presently; and they would have

run like sheep!

Wolves, as I have already remarked, are dreadful cowards. I shall

scarcely be believed, perhaps, but it is a positive fact, that I have

seen three of them sitting in the snow around a dying man who was

unarmed and perfectly helpless, waiting until he should have breathed

his last breath before they dared pounce upon him. I came upon the

party accidentally. The man had lost himself in the snow and was

slowly dying of fatigue and cold and hunger. It was rather amusing,

for it must have been a considerable trial to him to have those wolves

sitting there, and to know that they did but await his death or

stupor. Now, I had no great desire to eat that man: I don't care much

for tough, grown-up humans; but I gave him a touch sufficient to knock

the breath out of his body, and ate him all the same. I always take

the opportunity to pay off old scores; and here was a double one.

However, taking one thing with another, I am really not quite sure

that I do not dislike wolves even more than men: I certainly despise

them more. A man will, as a rule, stand up to an enemy, even to a

superior creature like myself; whereas a wolf will never fight until

he is wounded so badly that he cannot run away. Since my little

adventure with the pack of wolves I have never felt the slightest

vestige of respect for their class. I cannot forget the sickening

spectacle of those cowardly humbugs jumping up around the tree in

which I sat, as though they were anxious to get at me--bah!

Now I am going to tell of the most terrible adventure I ever met with,

and one which very nearly proved the last experience for me this side

of the grave.

It was autumn--the autumn of the year before last. I had had a

splendid season: the crops had been good all over my district, which

is a pretty large one. Oats, rye, wheat, and buckwheat were to be had

in any quantity and no one to eat them excepting myself and of course,

those thieves the humans who invariably dispute possession with me,

and hasten to cut down any field of ripe grain which I have claimed as

my own by virtue of having the first feed off it. Well, I was as fat

and strong as I had ever been, stronger; and I felt gloriously

well--ready for anything. I had enjoyed my usual sumptuous breakfast,

and was now indulging in a siesta within a dense portion of the forest

which lay at a distance of about three miles from one of my villages.

I was lying in a charming spot. Pines rustled above my head, peopled

with tree partridges and fieldfares. Beautiful purple bilberries grew

around me in profusion, and heather too; and close at hand was a small

pool of water at the foot of a tree. There was always water in this

spot in the driest season. If none appeared on the surface, all I had

to do was to tread the moss for a minute or two and I soon had the

cool liquid flowing about my feet. It was a hot day, one of the last

we should see, for this was what, Vainka says, the humans call "old

woman's summer," which comes after the real summer and lasts but a few

days. Perhaps I was asleep: I may have been taking forty winks, for

about this time we bears begin to do a trifle of yawning and napping

at odd moments, in preparation for the winter function; but suddenly a

truly awe-inspiring noise startled the delicious silence of the forest

and brought me out of the land of dreams and upon my feet in a moment.

The noise was produced by humans or devils, that much was certain. I

could recognise human voices; but there were strange sounds besides,

like rattles and gongs and bell-ringings, which seemed to come from

all sides at once. I stood still, irresolute, for upon my word I did

not know what to do. Had the humans organised a chase after me?

Impossible, for they could not know my whereabouts without snow to

show them my tracks. What could it all mean? I quickly concluded that

whatever might be the object of these humans in making so barbarous a

din, that object was at all events not my destruction, or capture;

there was no thought of me in the matter. Presently the dreaded sound

of exploding fire-sticks reached my ears. I am not ashamed to confess

that this particular noise always causes me to lose my head for

awhile. Before it rang out I had already determined to remain quietly

hidden where I then was and allow the storm to go by; but at the

banging of the guns my deliberate resolves--together with my good

sense and my presence of mind--were, for the time, cast to the four

winds. I jumped up and careered wildly from end to end of the wood.

This gradually sobered me, and at the same time I discovered in which

precise direction the real danger lay. There were shouts and din from

three sides, while from the fourth side came no sound at all,

excepting the occasional bang of a gun. It therefore became clear to

me that this was a deliberate attempt to so frighten any animals which

might be within the limits of the four sides which were lined by

everybody's enemy, man, as to cause them to run towards the only side

where safety appeared to lie, and which was in effect the only

dangerous quarter. This plan must of a surety have been the invention

of the devil, who is, of course, a man, for it is full of the most

diabolical cunning. It was pitiful to see numbers of silly hares and

even a red fox--who certainly ought to have known better!--rushing

past me to their destruction. No sooner did a hare run by towards the

corner whence no shoutings came, than, a moment later, I would hear

the bang of a gun and I knew that the poor innocent creature had been

done to death by a concealed human. Birds flew over my head--I do not

know their names, for we do not associate with birds excepting in so

far as to pull one off its nest now and again, about luncheon time;

but there were birds of all sizes; and each one, as it reached the

concealed lane of armed humanity, was greeted with an explosion and

fell dead: it was always the same story--blood, blood, blood; the

arch-enemy man was there to kill anything he could lay hands upon.

Meanwhile, my position became uncomfortable; for I soon discovered

that the shouting creatures were fast approaching me, closing in their

circle; still, no one had any idea, as yet, that I was in the ring. I

determined to convey the knowledge of my presence with some emphasis,

but to keep out of reach of the accursed fire-sticks. So I crept

through the thickest of the brushwood in the direction of the shouts.

As I came nearer I perceived that the noise proceeded from a line of

men--peasants, women, and even children, which last were furnished

with rattles and drums and small trumpets. These were stationed about

twenty paces apart one from another, and I saw at once that by rushing

between two of these I should easily escape. I felt that such a

proceeding was altogether beneath my dignity; but then I hate a scene

and publicity of any sort, and I did not wish to become the centre of

a shouting, swearing (for these humans occasionally demean themselves

by using very disgraceful language), and perhaps hatchet-wielding mob,

with the possibility of a fire ball into the bargain. So I waited

until the peasants approached my ambush, and then selected the pair

between which I should make my rush. I chose a quiet-looking old

she-human and a small boy who was making the most terrible noise with

a tin trumpet. Now all these creatures had been making noise enough,

in all conscience, before; but when I suddenly showed my somewhat

bulky person in their midst the noise instantly became doubly, nay,

ten times as loud as it was before, each creature shrieking out my

name with imprecations and personalities of every kind, in execrable

taste. Well, the din and the abuse and all aggravated me to such an

extent that I did a very foolish thing: I lost my temper, as we bears

are rather too apt to do, and hurled myself at the boy nearest me.

Just as I caught and crunched him, the stupid old woman next to him,

who turned out to be his mother, flung herself at me and, by beating

me with a stick she carried, endeavoured to force me to drop the

child, whom I suppose she required for some purpose of her own. Her

stupidity and the coarseness of her language enraged me still more,

and--giving the cub a last scrunch (I heard his bones go!)--I rushed

at his idiotic parent and mauled her nicely. But by this time half a

hundred of the yelling creatures had surrounded me and were punching

at me with every kind of stick, throwing tin cans and rattles at me,

and doing everything they could to induce me to let go of the old

woman--though what they could want with an old creature like that I

cannot imagine! But my blood was up, and I preferred to have my will

with her first; so I tore and crunched her until she ceased to scold

and swear, and lay as still as the boy; then I looked around and

paused, for I began to think I had better be making off into the thick

cover: I had had enough of the din and publicity. But just at this

moment something happened to me. I did not realise at first what it

was, but I know now. In a word, I suddenly fell head over heels, my

legs giving way under me for no apparent reason. But as I raised

myself I became aware of a slight pain in the thick part of my hind

leg, which increased and seemed to numb my limb. Looking over my

shoulder I saw the cause of this: a man stood near with a smoking

fire-stick in his hand: I had been shot. Oh! if I could have got at

that human, how I should have crunched his bones and gripped his

throat with my strong teeth till the life went out of him! I rose to

my full height as I came near and threw myself upon him. At the same

moment there was a crash from his fire-stick, I staggered forward

towards him and fell again; my strength was failing--I must fly for

the time, and hide myself while I had the power--quick!--was I wounded

to death, like mother, I wondered, as I stepped blindly away. I knew

not whither my steps were tending; I was but half conscious--still I

rushed madly forwards--the pain was excruciating; there was another

place that hurt me, one of my shoulders, besides my leg,--on and on I

fled; the shouts were far away behind me now and the cover was

thick--now the sounds had died away altogether; a little farther and I

might lie down and rest--but oh! the pain--it was maddening. Then,

through my dimming eyes I perceived a pool of water in mid-forest, and

staggering forward I fell prone into the midst of it, and for some

little while remembered no more.

When I became conscious I was still lying in the shallow pool, which

was red with my blood. But my pain was less; in fact, beyond being

exceedingly stiff I did not at this time feel my wounds to any great

extent. What I did feel was the most bitter hatred towards human

beings and their most accursed weapons, and a consuming desire for

revenge upon the tribe. I had always hated man: I hated him tenfold

now: I think it was this passion for vengeance which kept me alive

through that dreadful time of suffering and privation. I could barely

crawl for several weeks, and it was with the greatest difficulty that

I managed to obtain sufficient food to support me. Ah me! it was a

trying time! But for the proximity of a village I know not how I

should have lived. The wolves--who were not within a hundred

miles--got all the credit, or abuse, for my depredations. I am glad to

say that by the end of the autumn season that village was the poorer

by two small children--who foolishly went mushroom hunting in the

woods one Sunday afternoon, and were prevented by "the wolves" from

returning home to their tea (an exceedingly welcome contribution,

these, to my impoverished larder)--besides sundry dogs and other

comestibles which kindly wandered my way at meal times.

I have already hinted that at one period of my life I--even I--have

fallen, like weaker persons, beneath the spell of the tender passion.

Now that all this is long since over and done with I cannot help

laughing to think how I can have been so foolish as to permit myself

to indulge in such feeble frivolity as love. I declare, I hardly like

to confess it, but it is nevertheless true that during the time of my

bedazzlement, or whatever you like to call it, I was actually in the

habit of hunting for the benefit of another and of watching while the

object of my adoration consumed provisions which _I_ had found. How

completely does one's nature change during the undignified process of

befoolment which some member of the opposite and greatly inferior

sex--goodness only knows how!--exercises over a creature infinitely

her superior! How, at such a time, all that is excellent deteriorates

into that which is weak and despicable and unworthy! Here was I,

perhaps the biggest and bravest of my grand race--ever independent and

intolerant of interference--suddenly bewitched into the most slavish,

inoffensive, insignificant person that ever disgraced the family of

Ursidæ. I am glad to say--indeed, it is a great comfort to me to be

able to reflect--that the spell which was cast over me did not enslave

me for any great length of time; and I like to think that but for my

wounds and the condition of collapse into which they brought me, I

might never have fallen so low. Ha ha! what a despicable, mean-spirited

creature I was, to be sure, at that time. Let me explain how it all

happened. The day, or two days after my dreadful experience at the

hands of the doubly accursed human brute who twice wounded me with his

fire-weapon, I lay dozing restlessly beneath a tall pine in the

forest. As I reclined, dreaming uncomfortable dreams and conscious all

the while of severe pain and of the worse than pain of fevered veins

and parched throat, I suddenly became aware of a delicious sensation

of relief in the region of one of my wounds. A feeling of soothing

rest began to take the place of the racking pain of a few moments

before; at the same time I was conscious of a sound close to my ear--a

sort of crooning, inarticulate murmur of sympathy which fell very

delightfully upon my suffering senses. I scarcely had sufficient

energy to open my eyes, but with an effort I did so, and then I

beheld a sight which--at that moment of weakness and consequent

softness--filled me with an emotion to which I had hitherto been a

stranger.

Stretched upon the earth beside me, softly licking my wound and

crooning as she did so, was the most beautiful creature (she certainly

was beautiful, I admit that much even now, though I must also admit

that I was an abject fool to allow myself to be captivated by mere

good looks) that ever eye beheld. Her fur was the darkest of browns,

and had not a spot or taint of mange to disfigure it. Her claws and

teeth were perfect--as good as my own, and that is saying not a

little! She was large and strong, beyond the size and strength of most

persons of her sex. Her eyes looked languishing and gentle, but their

expression was belied by the formation of her snout, which was

slightly upturned--an unfailing indication of ferocity of disposition

amongst us Ursidæ. She was, as I have said, licking my wounds; I shall

never forget the delicious sensation of peace and ease from pain that

her action thus instilled into my being. I did not dare betray the

fact that I was awake, lest she should cease to caress me. I felt that

I could lie on thus for ever, contentedly, and let her soothe me, if

she would, into a sleep that had no end. As a matter of fact she did

lull me to sleep, a delicious, long restful sleep from which I awoke,

after several hours, a different bear. She had disappeared, when I

opened my eyes, and at the first instant I feared that I might have

merely dreamed of the beautiful ministering creature; at which

thought--so weak and ill was I--I declare I actually whined aloud! But

she soon returned, and then, seeing that I was awake, rushed to my

side once more, and licked and caressed me with a thousand

blandishments.... Ah me! well, well; perhaps I should never have

recovered at all but for her! I must in justice confess that she

helped me very much through the trying time of my illness, and I

believe she was very fond of me. I allowed her to share in all the

good things that she or I found or caught, and I am bound to say she

made very free with the ripe oats in my fields, and enjoyed a good

half of every dog and baby that fell to our lot. I am glad to say that

I taught her to appreciate (internally) the human race: baby is now

(if she is still alive) her favourite dish, and she will go miles to

surprise and choke a human of any description; so that, if only for

this reason, my period of fooling and softness was not altogether time

wasted. We plighted our troth, of course, and were bear and wife for

the time being--until nearly hibernating-time, in fact; but before

November we had quarrelled and parted. As my health and strength

returned I became increasingly conscious of the degradation of my

present mode of life. That I should permit any one, even so beautiful

a creature as she undoubtedly was, to feed in my pastures and treat me

as an equal, was a standing disgrace to my bearhood, and I felt that

this shocking condition of things must cease. I had hoped to bring

about an understanding with my wife without the use of violence; but

when she continued to assert her right to share with me that which was

mine after I had pointed out to her that love had had his season and

that there was now a distinction between the words _thine_ and _mine_

which during my infatuation I had been unable to discern, why--to my

regret--I was obliged to despatch her about her business with, as the

saying goes, a flea in her ear! She made a good fight of it--ha ha! I

declare, I never loved her so well as that day! Never shall I forget

the ugly look in her eyes and the wicked curl of her turn-up snout as

she limped away from the field of battle. She certainly looked about

as deliciously ferocious as I ever saw a member of our somewhat

quick-tempered family, and as for her language--oh! dear me--it was

enough to cause a blight, and I was quite glad that it was not the

season for such a disaster.

Thus ended my one and only experience of the inglorious delights of

love: it was quite enough for me!

Well, my narrative is drawing to a close now. I have had many

adventures, sufficient to keep my tongue employed for many a long day,

if I were to tell them all; but I think I really must, before

finishing my autobiography, relate one little incident which has kept

me in merriment for months: indeed, however low my spirits may fall at

any time, it is sufficient for me to recall this little episode and I

feel at once that life is, after all, worth living in spite of its ups

and downs, which would just about balance one another but for the

occasional gleams of mirth which shine in upon our dreary existence

and enable the balance, on the whole, to kick the beam on the up side.

This is how it happened. I was wandering about the woods one night in

April, shortly after my winter sleep. I was more than hungry, I was

ravenous. Consequently, when my nostrils were suddenly assailed by the

delicious odour of what I quickly recognised as dead horse, I felt

that I had wandered for once into luck's way. There is something very

soothing about horse when one is famished, and I made such a meal that

night as I have seldom eaten before or since. Towards morning I left

the banqueting-place resolved to revisit it on the following night.

Now comes the fun. Sauntering merrily along next evening I had

approached within a short distance of my feasting-ground, quite

ready--in spite of yesterday's somewhat generous repast--to repeat the

delightful experience, when my faithful nostrils apprised me of the

presence of an enemy. Besides the strong--very strong--smell of dead

horse, there was another scent in the air, that of a human being.

Fifty yards or so from me lay the remains of the horse: I could just

make out its outlines in the darkness; but peer about as I would I

could not discern the presence of a man. However, I always prefer to

trust to my nose rather than to my eyes, and therefore, convinced that

a human being either had been, recently, on the spot or was even now

present within a short distance of me, I decided to keep very quiet

and listen and watch. I may explain that I was well concealed from the

sight of any human, supposing that one of these creatures should be

busy over my supper. I had not thought that raw horse was an article

much valued by men as a delicacy--indeed, my dear brother once told me

that his "master" never ate any flesh which had not been previously

_burned_ (disgusting idea!)--but it was likely enough that the greedy

and ill-natured creatures would be glad enough to eat anything

whatever if by doing so they successfully deprived a fellow-creature

of the food.

How long I lay and waited thus I cannot say, but it was a weary time

and I grew very tired of it, and, naturally enough, horribly hungry

and proportionately wrathful. Yet the longer I waited the more certain

I became not only that a human had been about the place but that he

was actually there now. My ursidine readers will perhaps

wonder--knowing by this time something of my character and sentiments

towards the human race--that I did not stake all upon an attack. To

such I would reply that I am no fool even in my moments of blind but

righteous ferocity, and this human might be armed with a fire-stick.

Besides, I could not detect the sound of eating: what then could he be

about? men have no sense of smell, therefore he could not be aware

that I was near at hand: he was, clearly, not on the look-out for me.

If not on the look-out for me he might possibly be without his

fire-stick--grand Bruin! if so--well, to say "a man without his

fire-stick" is another way of saying "a meal": I should have two

courses for my supper to-night--man with horse to follow--glorious!

The idea revived me and caused my hunger to grow so keen that I could

no longer resist running the risk of approaching, cautiously, a little

closer in order to have a good survey around.

So I crept noiselessly towards the open space where lay my last

night's repast and commenced to peer about; but strain my eyes as I

would I could see nothing. Suddenly a soft sound broke the silence. It

was like a grunt, or a deep breath; I remembered that I had heard a

young peasant whom I found asleep under a tree (and subsequently ate)

make a similar sound. Could the human be asleep? The noise appeared to

proceed from among the pine boughs over my head, and I now peered

about with redoubled diligence in the direction whence it came. After

a while, I saw him--at least I saw a dark and motionless mass up in

the branches of a tree some twenty paces away. Now what in the name of

all that is wonderful did the creature mean by choosing such a place

to pass the night in? I had seen a man in a tree before this (I have

chased many a one up--they always forget that I can follow!), but I

never yet saw a human fast asleep among the branches. Then, of a

sudden, the true explanation of the mystery occurred to me. This

creature had placed the dead horse where I had found it with the

deliberate intention of using it as a bait to attract me. Having thus,

as it were, invited me to supper, he intended to lie in wait for me

and basely slay me from his ambush up in the tree as I feasted below.

Oh! the vile, human, petty meanness of the device; the hideous perfidy

to be enacted under the mask of hospitality--bah! it sickens me to

think of it.

However, it appeared that the tables were about to be turned upon my

friend. I was not long making up my mind as to a plan of attack; he

had his fire-stick with him, of course, so I must be careful. He was

grunting away merrily, and as fast asleep as though it were

mid-winter, and the tree his _berloga_! Well, I crept cautiously

along until I reached the foot of his pine tree: I could see him

plainly now sitting up in the fork of the lowest branches; his head

was sunk forward on his chest and he held his fire-weapon in one hand,

one end of it resting against his foot--ha, ha! I can see him now,

fool that he was--dreaming there in a fool's paradise: he little knew

whom he had to deal with, or he would have remained wide enough awake,

I warrant him!

Then I commenced to climb very carefully and silently. But, cautious

as I was, I suppose I must have made some sound, for when I was within

a foot or two of his perch, the human suddenly awoke with a start, and

stared out into the open space where the dead horse lay. Even then he

did not see me. It was a critical moment. Just then he lowered his

foot--I suppose it was stiff and required stretching. Luckily for me

it came close to my paw and I clutched at it. In doing so I lost my

hold of the tree trunk, without, however, letting go of the human

creature's foot. Never in all my life did I hear anything so piercing

as the yell that human gave as he and I fell to the earth together. To

make matters still more startling the fire-stick spat out its fire at

the same moment, dropping out of his hand as it did so. The flame did

not touch me, luckily, though for a moment I was deafened and scared,

as well as blinded, by the discharge. I am proud to say, however, that

I did not loose my grip, and as we touched the earth together, I was

upon him, and squeezing his deceitful, perfidious life out of his body

before he well knew what had happened.

Oh! it was glorious! To think that a crafty human being should have

taken the trouble to cater for me, lie in wait for me--gun and

all--actually beguile me within easy range of his fire-spitter, and

then fall asleep as I lay absolutely at his mercy there--well, it was

too rich for words! My supper that night was superlative--two

courses--for even man tastes delicious when stolen, so to say, in this

manner! Upon my word I find it difficult to say which was the more

delicious; the only drawback to it was that I could positively

scarcely eat for laughing. Well, well; I laid the rest of the sleepy

individual beside the remains of the horse which he had provided for

my entertainment, intending to finish him on the morrow; but,

unfortunately, his friends found him, and carried him away--I cannot

say what they wanted him for: I only hope he was not wasted; and so

ended the very merriest adventure I ever experienced. It has proved an

unfailing source of mirth to me from that day to this, and I am

exceedingly grateful to the sportsman who so obligingly fell asleep

and furnished me with an unexpected second course, instead of, as he

had anticipated, procuring for himself a valuable bear-skin;

for--shall I be believed?--these insolent creatures, if by perfidy or

stratagem they manage to do one of us to death, actually presume to

wear our fur over their own unworthy carcases, being entirely without

any natural covering to protect them from the cold.

But there! I must not allow my tongue to wag any longer; I am getting

old, I suppose, and garrulous, but I do love to fight over again those

countless battles with my enemies, which have made of me the

far-renowned champion that I am. Up to now my teeth are as sharp, my

arms as powerful, and my heart as sound as in the days of my youth;

but there will come a time, I suppose, when teeth and claws will

become blunt, and sight dim; when a grouse rising suddenly from the

thicket will startle me, and a hare crossing my path will make my

heart to beat--ah, well! when that time arrives, may the end come

soon, for I could never bear to support a feeble existence! When I

feel that I am no longer a match for my enemies, I am determined what

to do: I shall seek out a human who is armed. With his fire-stick he

shall free my soul from my body; but with my last strength I shall

grip his throat and tear his life from him, so that our two souls

shall journey together to those happy hunting-grounds where _we_

are to handle the fire-weapon, and the men to do the running: I shall

like to have a human soul handy to start upon as soon as I arrive in

those blessed regions; and oh! if I happen to meet my dear mother, how

she will enjoy taking a share in the hunt!

However, I am all right here for the present, and life is pleasant

enough while one's teeth are sharp!