A CUNNING OLD BRUIN. 17 



jcclurecl tliis pheiiomenon was traceable to a bear up tlie 

 tree, so we stole quietly towards it in order to have a closer 

 inspection. I had almost passed the tree, having taken, as 

 ! tliought, a quite careful enough survey of it to be able to 

 discern a large black object like a bear, when a low whistle 

 from Kurbeer, who was following a few paces behind, caused 

 me to stop, and, on looking round, I saw him pointing to- 

 wards the middle of the tree. We moved closer under it, 

 and there, behind a thick part of the stem and some closely 

 interwoven branches, I discovered a patch of black hair of 

 the cunning beast, which evidently thought itself well con- 

 cealed. With a view to turning its flank, I moved to the 

 right and left of the tree, which was unassailable from its 

 far side, where it overhung a deep drop. But from nowhere 

 could I get a better sight of the brute, which kept quite 

 still during all my manoeuvres. I therefore decided on 

 risking a shot at its only vulnerable point, hoping to make 

 its resting-place so hot as to induce it to drop from the 

 tree, and then get a chance at it en route. I fired, and 

 down came Bruin in a monstrous hurry. There was no 

 occasion for a second shot, as the black patch was the neck 

 of what turned out to be a large she-bear that had managed 

 to hide her body so cleverly. 



Never having tasted bear-meat, I suggested to my cook 

 that he might add a morsel of it to my frugal Christmas 

 dinner. But the horror and disgust depicted on his face 

 at the bare idea was such a caution that I refrained from 

 pressing the matter, so it never appeared at table. Although 

 these bears are usually clean feeders, their food chiefly con- 

 sisting of grain, fruit, roots, and suchlike, they are decidedly 

 carnivorous. They will sometimes destroy sheep and goats, 

 and will greedily devour carrion. Honey is perhaps their 

 favourite food, and to obtain this they are sometimes so 

 bold as to rob the village beehives, which are formed of 

 short bits of tree-trunks, hollowed out, closed at the ends, 

 and slung under the wooden eaves of the houses. Small 



