BEARS 53 



so in summer, when the snow covering the ice 

 is soft and intersected by numberless small 

 lakes and crevices. I well remember my first 

 and last chase of a bear over the ice. That one 

 experience was sufficient in itself. The incident 

 occurred off Greenland on July 9, 1905. 



At nine o'clock in the morning we touched an 

 ice-field whose limits were invisible, and tied up 

 to it as to a quay, with the object of establishing 

 an oceanographical station. To the south and 

 west the sea was ice-free, while to the north, as 

 far as one could see, extended a white plain 

 broken here and there by grotesquely 

 shaped and strangely coloured elevations. 

 Small lakes, pure blue in colour, relieved the 

 gleaming whiteness of the snow, a blazing sun 

 lit up the whole landscape. The man in the 

 crow's-nest signalled a bear. It was the first 

 we had so far encountered, and its appearance 

 naturally occasioned great excitement among 

 us. We were told that the animal was quite 

 close to us, but although I mounted the bridge 

 I could not obtain a glimpse of it. The ice 

 hummocks were both numerous and lofty, and 

 it was easy for the bear effectively to hide itself 

 among them. My old huntsman Jonas, however, 

 affirmed that he could locate it, so we left the 

 ship. Recamier and myself accompanied him, 



