“For three whole weeks we were in a state of siege. Not that we wanted food, however; Jerikoff the farmer’s larder was well stored, and he was very good to us indeed. He found his old boat, in which he used to paddle about in a little canal before the floods, very handy now. I shouldn’t have cared to risk my life in the ricketty tub; but Jerikoff did, and used to make voyages to a distant shop, and return laden with many a little Russian dainty. Once he brought in a haul of hares and rabbits from the flood. They had doubtless taken refuge on a tree as an extemporised island; but when that island itself became flooded, down the stream, nolens volens, they had to float. It is an ill wind that blows nobody good, and Jerikoff set out in great glee to reap this rich harvest of living fur. His face was a study while so engaged. ‘Oh! my pretty dears,’ he said, addressing his victims; ‘I couldn’t think of seeing you drown before my very face. Come into my boat; there is room for you all.’ But when the old man, before landing, began to knock them on the head, I daresay the little mariners thought they had got out of the frying pan into the fire.
“But about my bear, gentlemen. Well, I am coming to that.”
Chapter Eight.
The Captain’s tale continued—Winter brings the Bears from the Mountains—The Tragedy in the Forest—Bears at Bay—Breast to breast with Bruin—Fred Freeman falls in love!
“Kind and all as our host Jerikoff was,” continued the captain, “none of us were sorry when the floods began to abate and finally disappeared. But hardly had they gone when yet another change came over the landscape; for hard frost set in, then small powdery snow began to fall, followed shortly by great flakes, and before twenty-four hours were over our heads the whole country was locked in the embrace of an early winter. We weren’t altogether sorry for this, for we could now prolong our stay with prospects of good duck and wild-goose shooting, for both these and many other kinds of game would visit the running streams. We would also have an opportunity of doing old Jerikoff a favour by filling his larder for him. Your Russian rustic, Mr Freeman, is oftentimes as proud as a prince. Jerikoff was, at all events; and we dared not insult him by the offer of a single rouble.
“Our host used to do a little shooting himself. One day he met a young peasant leading his horse from the forest, where he had been for wood. The little lad’s eyes were as round and apparently as big as saucers—he had seen a bear. Jerikoff made haste home to tell us, and we determined to go in search of Mr Bruin. Hardly had we made up our minds and got ready our guns when another report, and that a very singular one indeed—although we had no reason to doubt the truth of it—reached us.