'Certainly, any story may be split; if any fellow can entertain us for two nights on end, why, so much the better!'
'Off you go then, Bobby,' said Denison—"once upon a time"—fire ahead!'
Bobby Oakfield sat silent for a few minutes.
'I believe you are inventing,' said the irrepressible Ralph: 'is that allowed, Mr. President?'
'Real experiences, as far as possible!' Vandeleur decided.
'Oh, it's real all right,' said Bobby; 'I was wondering whether to tell you first of a wolf adventure or a little meeting with a bear I once had—think I'll begin with the bear.'
This is the story of my first bear (began Bobby); the first I ever went out to hunt, I mean, though as a matter of fact he had more right to call me 'his first man,' than I to dub him 'my first bear,' for I fancy he was nearer getting me than I him. Which of us was most frightened, I hardly care to say! He must have been terribly alarmed if he suffered more than I did!
It was during one of my visits to Russia, and the season was early autumn. I was staying with a cousin, who was either part or sole proprietor, I forget which, of a big 'shoot,' some twenty miles out of town; and one day he received a letter which we both thought rather funny. It was from the head-keeper of the shooting club, and read something like this:—
'Most merciful lord' (my cousin was not a lord, but that's a detail; he would have made a very good one, I dare say), 'if your lordship's heart contains pity for humble fellow-creatures who are in distress, listen and be merciful. A bear has appeared here and is eating the uncut corn of the peasants. We have tried him with the usual methods, but they have proved useless. Come down and save us, merciful, for the appetite of the beast is very large; there is room in him for the whole of our harvest, therefore come quickly.'