The bears were going to be the great difficulty. They were splendidly trained, it is true. But then they were but young; and who could say that they might not, when at sea, kick over the traces, eat their Yak-Yak keepers, and become frantically unmanageable?
The whole of the fo’cas’le was turned into a huge bear-den for their accommodation, and seal-meat in abundance was lowered into an ice-tank, that, during their long voyage, they might not starve.
It was a happy thought of Slap-dash, a brave Innuit and chief keeper of the bears, to have trained three of the Yak-dogs to sleep with his monster pets. The bears had become very fond of these, and growled a good deal at each other over them at night, but never actually fought.
But for these honest dogs the shipment of the Bruins would have presented far greater difficulties.
I must describe how this shipment was actually effected. To have roped the poor beasts would have rendered them savage, and this would have been rather indiscreet, to say the least. So a large raft was constructed, as well as a sort of inclined plane of wood, similar to a horse’s ladder. This last was made fast to the fo’cas’le bulwark above, while the other end was held in its place, on the sea below, by means of floats and beams from the ship’s water-line.
The three pet dogs, the bears’ favourites, were easily got on to the raft, and the Bruins followed. The Innuit himself kept feeding them as they were being towed all the way to the ship, and while the raft was made fast to the inclined plane. Then up sprang Slap-dash, and called the dogs to follow.
“Oh,” said the biggest bear, whose name was Gruff, “if that’s your game, here’s for after.”
And up he went.
In less time than it takes me to write these lines all the lot were comfortably caged.
They were not quite satisfied with their lot to begin with, however.