Our hunters, however, saw that this would never do. According to the conditions under which they travelled, the bear must be killed by one of themselves; and, therefore, after a little explanation, the Quän resigned his intention and stepped aside. His post, however, was supplied by the ex-guardsman, who, poising his ponderous axe, stood ready to deal a far heavier, and deadlier, blow than could be given by any woodcutter in Scandinavia. Alexis took charge of Pouchskin’s gun, determined to fire it as soon as he had discharged his own rifle; and as Ivan had one barrel loaded with ball and the other with slugs, it was not likely, against such a formidable battery as was thus prepared for him, that Bruin could manage to live much longer.
It now became a question whether they should wait patiently till the bear came out, or whether they might not adopt some mode of tempting him forth, that would act upon him more rapidly than the cravings of his stomach.
There could be no harm in trying to reach and stir him up with a pole; and for this purpose the woodcutter stepped aside to find one.
He very soon succeeded in procuring a long birch sapling—as long as an ordinary fishing-rod; and having cleared this of its spray, he inserted it into the cave. To the gratification of the party it was found long enough for the purpose; for by the muffled feel it could only be Bruin’s fur that its point was buried in. It was just as far, however, as the pole would reach; and as it was a slender sapling without any stiffness in it, they were unable to do anything in the way of giving him a poke. No doubt, had the entrance to his den been wider, even the tickling of the pole would have caused him to “turn out;” for a bear, unless badly wounded, will not stand much badgering. It was possible, in this case, that Bruin suspected there was some trap set for him outside—indeed, the noises he had been listening to for more than an hour, must have admonished him that all was not as it ought to be; and this perhaps rendered him more wary than was his wont. He might not yet be aware that his door was open; for the roofed enclosure still kept out the light as much as the stalagmite had done; and although he might have heard the icy mass giving way before the axe and spear, he might not understand all that. It was necessary, therefore, to coax him as far as the threshold—so that he might discover that the door of his chamber had been opened for him.
The tickling of the pole, however, proved of no service; for, although it drew from the huge brute a sniff or two, he still kept to his bed.
What was to be done? Must they retire, and wait patiently till the calls of hunger should urge him forth? The day was piercingly cold, and to remain there long would have been unpleasant enough. They might, indeed, have to stay by the cave all day and all night too: for the enclosure had been only slightly put up—merely to check the bear for a few minutes—and if they were to leave him all night to himself, he could easily tear down the stakes and get off.
They could not think of deserting the spot for an instant; but to avoid a long vigil they set about considering some plan by which Bruin might be induced to come forth from his inaccessible retreat.
A thought occurred to Ivan, who was a quick conceiver—a plan which promised well—and that was to make a “spitting-devil,” and send it up into the cave. It appeared a good idea—at all events, it would not be difficult to give it a trial. Gunpowder was not scarce with them—since Russian roubles were plenty; and Pouchskin, pouring out nearly a quarter of a pound into the palm of his broad hand, commenced spitting upon it and working the powder into a paste. Ivan, who directed this operation, was determined his plan should not fail by any stinginess in regard to the materials required for carrying it out.
After a short space of time the plastic fingers of Pouchskin had elaborated the powder paste into a roll as large as a regalia cigar; and this being dried slightly near a fire—which they had long before kindled—was ready for the touch. To the old grenadier was intrusted the management of the miniature rocket; and, while the young hunters once more stood to their guns, he proceeded to carry out the design.
Having thrust his head through the hole intended for the bear, and his arm through another which he had made for himself, he held the “devil” at arm’s length between his finger and thumb. The Quän now took a blazing faggot from the fire, and passing it between the wattles, ignited the fuse which the old grenadier had ingeniously placed in the “devil’s” tail.