After having gone three or four miles up this icebound stream, which ran through a narrow valley with steep sloping sides, the guide warned our hunters that they were close to the place where the water would be found open. At this point a low ridge ran transversely across the valley—through which the stream had, in process of time, cut a channel; but the ridge occasioned a dam or lake of some half-dozen acres in superficial extent, which lay just above it. The dam itself was rarely frozen over; and it was by the water remaining in it, or flowing sluggishly through it—and thus giving it time to cool—that the stream immediately below got frozen over.
The lake lay just on the other side of the ridge, and was now only hidden from their view by the rise of the ground. If not frozen over, as the guide conjectured, there was likely to be a bear roaming around its edge; and therefore they resolved to observe caution in approaching it.
The sledges were to be taken no further. Our hunters had learnt how to manage both dog-sledges and dogs. Their experience in Finland, as well as in the countries of the Hudson’s Bay territory, had taught them that; and made them skilful in the handling of these animals—else they would have made but poor work in travelling as they did now. In fact, they could not have managed at all: since it requires a great deal of training to be able to drive a dog-sledge. This, however, they had received—both the boys and Pouchskin—and fortunate it had been so; for very shortly after they were placed in a predicament, in which their lives depended on their skill as sledge drivers.
The dogs were left under cover of the ridge, near the bottom of the little slope; a sign was given to them to keep their places—which these well-trained creatures perfectly comprehended; and the hunters—the Kurilski with the rest—holding their guns in readiness, ascended towards the summit of the slope.
There was no cover, except what was afforded by the inequality of the ground. There were no trees in the valley—only stunted bushes, not half the height of a man’s body, and these nearly buried to their tops in the snow. A few, however, appeared growing along the crest of the ridge.
The hunters crawled up to these on all-fours, and peeped cautiously through their branches.
It was the impatient Ivan that looked first; and what he saw so surprised him, as almost to deprive him of the power of speech! Indeed, he was not able to explain what he saw—till the other three had got forward, and became equally eye-witnesses of the spectacle that had astonished him.
As the guide had conjectured, the lake was not frozen. There was some loose snow floating over its surface; but most of the water was open; and the stream that flowed slowly in on the opposite side was quite clear of either ice or snow.
The guide had also predicted hypothetically that they might see a bear—perhaps two. It had not occurred to this man of moderate pretensions that they might see twelve—and yet no less than twelve bears were in sight!
Yes, twelve bears—they were as easily counted as oxen—were around the shores of this secluded lake, and on the banks of the little stream that ran into it—all within five hundred yards of each other. Indeed, it would have been easy to have mistaken them for a herd of brown heifers or oxen; had it not been for the various attitudes in which they were seen: some upon all-fours—some standing erect, like human beings, or squatted on their hams like gigantic squirrels—others in the water, their bodies half submerged—others swimming about, their backs and heads only visible above the surface; and still others, prowling leisurely along the banks, or over the strip of level meadow-land that bordered the lake.