Our young hunters would have been contented to have left the others alone—neither the female nor her cubs being required by them. But the voyageurs—who were desirous of obtaining the skins of all three on their own account—proposed returning to effect their destruction; and in this proposal they were backed by Pouchskin, who had a natural antipathy to all bears.
It ended in the killing of the dam, and the capturing of her cubs alive; for, encumbered as the old she was with her offspring, she was soon overtaken, and fell an easy victim to the volley of bullets that were poured into her from all sides at once.
With the skins of the old bears, and the cubs tied in the bottom of the canoe, our hunters started back down stream; but they had scarce parted from the place, before the ravenous wolves returned—not only to devour the carcases of the bears, but also those of their own comrades that had fallen in the encounter!
Chapter Forty Six.
The Barren Grounds.
The “Barren Ground bear” was next to be sought for; but to reach the haunts of this animal, a long and toilsome journey must be made. That tract of the Hudson’s Bay territory known as the “Barren Grounds,” extends from the shores of the Arctic Sea as far south as the latitude of the Churchill river; bounded eastward by Hudson’s Bay itself, and westward by a chain of lakes, of which the Great Slave and Athapescow are the principal.
This immense territory is almost unexplored to the present hour. Even the Hudson’s Bay trappers have a very imperfect knowledge of it. It has been crossed in one or two places, and skirted by exploring parties, but it is still almost a terra ignota, except to the four or five tribes of Indians who dwell around its borders, and the Esquimaux, who venture a little way into it along the coast of the Arctic Sea.
Before proceeding to hunt the Barren Ground bear, let us say a word about his species. By writers, both old and modern, he has been variously classed. Even the ablest naturalist who has written about him is puzzled as to his species. We speak of Sir John Richardson, the companion of the lamented Franklin, and himself one of the great men of the earth. Sir John first regarded this bear, though very doubtfully, as a variety of the ursus americanus, or American black bear. Later observations influenced him to change this opinion; and again with modest doubtfulness—characteristic of the man—he suggests his being a variety of the ursus arctos.