404 NEW LAND. 



pulled up, had a good look at the animal, and soon came to the 

 conclusion that it must be a very large bear. I was not slow to 

 overturn the load and tell Schei. We at once agreed that he 

 should shoot it. He overturned his sledge, got out his rifle in a 

 hurry, provided himself with cartridges, and set off, little suspecting 

 the dismal fate in store for him. 



One's shooting experiences of various kinds may at times seem 

 absolutely incredible to others, and hence the doubtful reputation 

 such narrations have acquired. It happens less often that one 

 experiences things which one has the greatest difficulty in believing 

 oneself. But listen to this. With the utmost caution, with his 

 gun ready, and his eye fixed inexorably on the bear, Schei 

 advanced to the spot. Meanwhile the bear sat wagging its head, 

 but keeping a good look-out, it appeared, for when Schei had come 

 some twenty steps nearer, it rose and flew away ! I have no 

 liking for people who gape and stare, but I think I may be excused 

 if I stood gazing after the bear with my mouth open, as it soared 

 away, with long proud strokes, over our heads. It did not seem 

 either as if it was the first time it had taken flight; it flew as 

 well as any bird, which after all was not remarkable, for it was a 

 glaucous gull. I felt decidedly crestfallen, and the shooter him- 

 self was no less so. When we came to ourselves again, Schei 

 swore with such conviction as I had seldom heard him do before, 

 and I, I regret to say, followed his example. 



On June 15 the fog was as thick as the day before, and we 

 all but drove past the place whence we meant to strike across 

 country, but Schei saved the situation, as he recognized some of 

 the sand-hills. Our way now was an exceedingly devious one, in 

 order to avoid the worst of the rivers and streams. At Storsjoen 

 we had to take a more northerly route, across clay and stony land. 

 We, of course, made use of the wooden over-runners, but where 

 the clay was stickiest we had to put both the teams to one sledge, 

 and hauled with them ourselves, like ponies. In these circum- 

 stances we had not much time to notice the fresh reindeer-tracks 

 leading east, up at Storsjoen. Our quarters for the night were a 

 little south of the watershed, and on June 16 we worked our way 

 south, through Gaasedalen, which was practically free of snow. 



