A BEAR-HUNT. 



173 



out, he immediately rose upon his haunches, knocked his torment- 

 ors (the Esquimaux dogs) to the right and left with his fore paws, 

 and then ran on. But the dogs were again upon his track, sur- 

 rounding and cutting off his retreat to the shore. Thus we were 

 soon up with him, though keeping at a respectful distance from 

 the wounded prey. Charley desiring to try his hand at my rifle, 

 and knowing he was a good marksman, I allowed him to do so. 

 He fired as the bear was again on his haunches engaged with the 

 dogs. The shot took effect in his breast, and the brave beast fell 

 kicking and tumbling ; but, after a moment's struggle, was once 

 more on his feet again, flying away. Morgan, of our ship, now 

 tried his double-barrel, with three bullets in each, but both barrels 

 missed fire. Another shot was then fired, and this time the bear 

 tumbled over, as we all thought, dead. A cheer from us follow- 

 ed ; but hardly had our voices died away, when the poor beast 

 was again on his feet struggling to get off, white men, Esquimaux, 

 and dogs all after him. Once more a heavy charge — this time 

 from Morgan's gun — went into him, striking his face and eyes, 

 and down went Bruin " dead again." One cheer was given, then 

 another commenced, when, lo ! as if the noise had revived him, 

 the brute, seemingly with as many lives as a cat is said to have, 

 went off again, running feebly, but still with some remaining 

 vigor. Spears were now thrown at him by the natives, but these 

 rebounded from his tough hide, proving as harmless to him as 

 tooth-picks. 



Once more he was down. Then raising his head, and looking 

 round upon his foes, which numbered a full score without includ- 

 ing the dogs, he seemed as if preparing for the last fight and 

 death-spring. It was a dangerous moment, and so all felt. But 

 now was the time for me to try my hand. Hitherto I had not 

 fired. This, then, was the moment to do so. I stepped out, and 

 placed the hair-trigger as it should be, and leveled my gun. 



" Shoot at his head ! give it him in the skull !" was the cry 

 from those around ; but I watched my opportunity, and, when he 

 gave a certain downward throw of his head, fired, tapping the 

 jugular vein. It was enough. One convulsive movement, as 

 the blood oozed out from the keen cut made by my rifle ball, and 

 the life of the polar bear was ended. 



The next task was to get the carcass on board, and at first we 

 intended to drag it there. A line of sufficient length was upon 

 the ground, ready for placing round the bear's neck ; but this was 



