112 A SPEING AND SUMMER IN LAPLAND. 



and I could not stand this sang froid much longer. 

 It is now many years since I heard a rattling 

 view-halloa, but I have not quite forgotten the 

 cheery old sound, so I thought I would try the 

 effect of one on Bruin, and I gave a screech, the 

 like of which (if it would not have passed muster 

 at " Finedon poplars" or " Denford old ash") was 

 never, I'll be bound to say, heard before in this 

 wild Lap forest. It was now pretty plain that the 

 bear had no idea that I was so near him, for I 

 shall never forget the start he gave on hearing 

 my voice. I have often been amused in watching 

 the gambols of a litter of young pigs in a farm- 

 yard, when they toss up their heads, spring a 

 short distance, and then suddenly stop and turn 

 round and face you with a sniff and a snort. This 

 was just how my bear behaved. Tossing up his 

 head, he gave a deep kind of grunt, and off he set 

 at a pace which I never could have supposed such 

 a heavy- sterned, unwieldy, lumbering, short-legged 

 monster was capable of. He never looked round 

 until he was about fifty yards from me, when he 

 suddenly stopped short, gave a sulky, half- sidelong 

 look at me out of his little wicked pig eye, and 

 then dashing off into the deep forest, I saw him no 

 more. I now thought, however, that it was hardly 

 prudent to camp out in this neighbourhood, so I 

 made the best of my way out of the wood. After, 



