NANCY AND THE BIG BEAR.
There was, as Colonel Drury had promised, plenty for Boris to do at
Karapselka; so much so, indeed, that the hunter scarcely was aware
of the flight of time, so happily did the days and the weeks and the
months come and go. Nancy was the sweetest of young wives, and in her
company Boris soon forgot his disgrace, and the sorrow and regret
which the quarrel with the Tsar still caused him whenever he recalled
it. Away from drills and service and the countless engagements and
amusements of city life, the bear-hunter soon recovered all his old
passion for the life of the forest. From morn till night he was afoot,
tracking, hunting upon his trusty snow-shoes, stalking capercailzie or
blackcock among the rime-embroidered pine trees, and revelling in the
free and wholesome air of his oldest friend, the forest. Nancy often
accompanied him on his excursions, when the distance was not too great;
and the evenings passed as happily as mutually agreeable society could
make them.
During these months and even years of peaceful life at Karapselka,
Boris had many adventures with those animals which had furnished him
his original title, as well as with wolves. In these adventures he
found that his old skill in the chase was in no wise diminished, nor
his nerve shaken, nor his strength and activity abated; he was still
the bear-hunter all over. Sometimes it appeared to him that all his
military career and his many adventures by land and sea were nothing
more than a dream, and that he was back in Dubinka chasing the wild
animals as a paid employé of his liege lord, the owner of the land and
village in which he lived. But a word from Nancy, or a look into her
sweet face, soon put matters into shape, and he knew himself for what
he was--a once-favoured servant and soldier of the Tsar, now living
under a cloud; a state of affairs which should have made him very
miserable, whereas there was no denying the fact that he was nothing
of the sort, but, on the contrary, exceedingly well content with his
present lot.
One day, when they had been married for the better part of a year,
Boris and Nancy met with an adventure which might have had fatal
consequences for both of them.
Boris had allowed his wife to accompany him, as he often did, into
the woods, driving in their comfortable kibitka, or covered sledge,
to a point at a distance of a few miles from the house, and thence
proceeding on snow-shoes for a mile or two further in pursuit of hares
or foxes, or perhaps with an eye to a partridge or two to replenish the
larder.
The day was magnificent--one of those glorious February days when the
sun is bright but not warm, and the air rare and invigorating; when
every pine is a marvel of subtile filigree-work in silver rime, and the
snow beneath one's feet is dazzling with innumerable ice-gems, and has
so hard a crust upon it that it will bear the weight of a man.
Nancy and her husband had enjoyed their drive, and were now drinking in
the intoxicating fresh forest air as they slid easily along upon their
snow-shoes, Nancy having by this time become quite an expert in this
graceful fashion of getting over the ground.
The larder at Karapselka happened to be empty at this time, for there
was no system of obliging bakers and butchers to call for orders in
that out-of-the-way spot, nor indeed in Moscow either in those days;
and Boris was intent upon whistling up tree-partridges, to provide
food for the establishment at home. Three of these beautiful birds had
come swooping up in response to his call, but had swerved and settled
a hundred paces to the left. Boris immediately and cautiously followed
them, in hope of getting a shot at the birds before they should take
fright. On crept Boris, Nancy cautiously following him at a distance.
Suddenly, to the surprise and alarm of Nancy, and certainly no less
of himself, Boris disappeared in a cloud of snow--disappeared as
completely as though the earth had opened and swallowed him whole.
For a moment Nancy stopped short in consternation and uncertainty,
so sudden had been the disappearance of her lord, when, to her still
greater amazement and horror, there came from the spot where her
husband had disappeared first terrific roars and growlings, together
with much upheaving of snow and pine boughs, and next the ponderous
figure of a large bear. Boris had fallen into a _berloga_, which
is Russian for the den which a bear makes for himself during his
hibernating period, and in which he remains more or less fast asleep
from November until the thawing of the snow in March or April.
This was the first occasion upon which Nancy had seen a live bear at
close quarters; and though she was as courageous a little person as you
will meet in a day's march, yet the unexpected sight filled her with
terror, which was largely increased when the great brute caught sight
of her, and with renewed roarings made straight for the very spot where
she stood helpless and motionless.
What had happened is easily explained and in a few words. Boris had
stepped upon the top of a berloga, the roof of which immediately gave
way beneath his weight, precipitating him upon the top of the sleeping
tenant. The bear was not so far gone in somnolence but that the sudden
descent upon his person of so heavy an individual as Boris not only
awoke but irritated him exceedingly. Boris, finding himself upon the
bear's back at the bottom of Bruin's own premises, felt quite at home;
indeed, he was never more so than when in the company of a bear. He
felt about for his knife, but found to his annoyance that he had left
it at home. His axe was at his side, but there was no room to use it
except by getting off the brute's back and allowing it to scramble out
of the den, when he might get a stroke at it as it went, wounding it
sufficiently to prevent its escape, and finishing the business as soon
as he could climb out also.
Meanwhile, the bear was doing its utmost to rid itself of the incubus
on its back. It heaved itself up and wriggled, and at last tried to
bolt through the aperture which the new arrival had made in the roof of
the den. By this move it rid itself of Boris, who slid off backwards,
but could not recover himself in time to aim the blow at Bruin's
hind-quarter which he had intended to deal it.
By the time Boris was upon his feet the bear had disappeared, and it
only then struck Boris that Nancy was outside, and might be in danger
of receiving injury from the frightened and angry creature. Full of
this fear Boris darted upwards in order to follow the bear and see to
Nancy's safety. But the roof gave way as he attempted to climb out, and
he fell backwards a second time to the bottom of the berloga. At the
second attempt Boris was more successful, and reached the surface in
safety.
But when he did so he saw a sight which filled him with fear and
horror, for the huge brute was in full pursuit of his young wife,
who fled before it upon her snow-shoes, uttering cries of alarm and
calling on Boris to help her.
"Bear round this way to me--to me, Nancy!" shouted the poor hunter in
agony, starting to run after the pair in desperate dread.
His snow-shoes had been broken in his tumble into the bear's den, so
that he was now on foot and trusting to the hard crust of the snow
to support him. The animal turned at the sound of his voice, and for
a moment seemed to pause, as though doubtful upon which of the two
enemies to wreak its passion; then it turned again and resumed its
pursuit of poor Nancy. Boris saw with anguish that whenever Nancy
endeavoured to edge round in order to come towards him, her pursuer
seemed to comprehend her design, and prevented it by cutting the corner
to meet her.
Then Boris thought in his agony of mind of another plan. Nancy was
gliding beautifully on her light shoes, and could easily keep her lead
of the bear so long as her breath held out; while he, run as fast as he
might, could scarcely keep up with the chase, without shoes to help him
along. It was plain that at this rate he would never overtake bear or
wife, and could thus do nothing to assist poor Nancy.
"Make for the sledge, Nancy," he shouted; "go straight along our old
tracks--'tis but a short half-mile away!"
Nancy heard and understood, and went straight on, looking neither to
the right hand nor to the left, but only straining every nerve to gain
upon the brute behind her, so as to reach the sledge sufficiently well
ahead of him to allow time to unfasten the horse, which was tied to a
tree.
On rushed Nancy, and on came the bear behind her, she gaining slowly
but steadily; and after them came panting Boris, with difficulty
holding his own, for all that he was a good runner and in fair
condition, for at every third or fourth step the treacherous snow
surface gave way and plunged his foot and leg deep in the powdery
ice-covered stuff.
And now the sledge came into view, and a glad sight it was for more
than one of the party. Nancy took heart at seeing it, and made a
renewed effort to gain a yard or two, reaching the horse's head--the
horse struggling and tugging for terror of the bear the while--with a
lead of thirty good yards. Deftly she untied the noose and freed the
snorting, terrified animal, and as deftly she threw her body across the
side of the sledge, and the horse, feeling himself free, dashed with
it homewards. Then she slipped into the seat, just at the very moment
that Bruin arrived upon the spot to find his bird flown.
"Bravo, bravo, my Nancy!" shouted Boris, as he watched with unspeakable
relief and joy how the swift little sledge bore her instantly out of
danger.--"Now, Mishka," he added, "come back and settle accounts with
me; you won't catch that bird, she's flown."
The bear, who was still standing and watching the sledge as it glided
away from him, seemed to hear and comprehend the invitation of Boris.
It turned sharp round upon hearing his voice, and with a loud roar
accepted the challenge thrown out to it. It looked very large, and
certainly a terrific object, as it bore down upon Boris, half mad with
fury that Nancy should have escaped its wrath, and roaring aloud as it
came.
But the hunter cared nothing for its roarings, nor yet for the ferocity
of its appearance, though such fury as it had shown was somewhat rare
in a bear which is suddenly awaked from its winter sleep. He stood very
calmly, axe in hand, and awaited the onslaught.
When the bear came close up it raised itself upon its hind-legs,
whereupon Boris aimed a terrific blow with his axe at the head of the
brute. The axe was sharp and the aim was true, and the iron crashed
through Bruin's head with so mighty a shock that in an instant this
monster, who had been so terrible but a moment since, was more harmless
than the smallest creature that flies and stings.
Then Boris looked, and perceived that his wife had returned from the
sledge and was at his elbow with the gun, which she had found and
brought in case he should require help in his dealings with the bear.
She was pale with her fright and panting with her run, and Boris took
her very tenderly in his arms and bore her back to the sledge, praising
and encouraging her. And it so fell out that on this very night was
born their little daughter Katie, of whom I shall have something
presently to tell.