THE WINTER NIGHT 435 



heard the hurried footsteps of some one running over 

 the half -deck above me, and then another followed. 

 There was something in those footsteps that involun- 

 tarily made me think of bears, and I had a hazy sort of 

 an idea that I ought to jump up out of bed, but I lay 

 still, listening for the report of a gun. I heard nothing, 

 however, and soon fell a -dreaming again. Presently 

 Johansen came tearing down into the saloon, crying out 

 that a couple of bears were lying half or quite dead 

 on the large ice hummock astern of the ship. He and 

 Mogstad had shot at them, but they had no more car- 

 tridges left. Several of the men seized hold of their guns 

 and hurried up. I threw on my clothes and came up 

 a little after, when I gathered that the bears had taken 

 to flight, as I could see the other fellows following them 

 over the ice. As I was putting on my snow-shoes they 

 returned, and said that the bears had made off. How- 

 ever, I started after them as fast as my snow-shoes would 

 take me across the floes and the pressure-ridges. I soon 

 got on their tracks, which at first were a little blood- 

 stained. It was a she-bear, with her cub, and, as I be- 

 lieved, hard hit — the she-bear had fallen down several 

 times after Johansen's first bullet. I thought, therefore, 

 it would be no difficult matter to overtake them. Several 

 of the dogs were on ahead of me on their tracks. They 

 had taken a northwesterly course, and I toiled on, perspir- 

 ing profusely in the sun, while the ship sank deeper and 

 deeper down below the horizon. The surface of the snow, 



