230 HUNTING IN THE ARCTIC 



felt that they had disappeared forever, suddenly they 

 came into sight again, making toward us. We dashed 

 uphill to meet them at a point which we saw their course 

 would bring them to. I dropped flat on the ground to 

 get my breath again. So rapidly did they come that we 

 had hardly gained the cover we were aiming for when 

 they disappeared into the depression just beside us. 

 The next thing we knew they were passing below us a 

 few yards away. Jumping hastily to the edge, I shot 

 them both and then discovered that they were young 

 cubs, a year and a half old. The little fellows had very 

 good fur. Bill put both the carcasses entire into his 

 pack bag and for the rest of our trip we enjoyed roast 

 bear meat more than any other delicacy that we had. 

 Very rich and fat it was, similar to but more tender than 

 young pork. Indeed, it was so good that I almost 

 regretted refusing to shoot a third cub which we came 

 upon later in the morning of the same day — evidently a 

 little fellow belonging to the same htter — which had 

 strayed away from its mother. We saw it from a high 

 perpendicular cliff, playing in the alders just below us, 

 and threw some stones down to scare it off. The Uttle 

 bear took to its heels and we watched it run for more 

 than a mile and a half, stopping every now and then to 

 look back as if afraid that we were still upon its tracks, 

 and pausing for breath at some unusually stiff climb 

 which it had to make. When we reached camp in the 

 evening the boys said that they had seen this bear still 

 running a mile or so beyond the point where we had 

 lost sight of it. 



Yet looking for a third very good sheep to complete 

 our bag, we started out on the sixth and what was 

 destined to be the last day of our hunt in the sheep 



