SUMMER RAMBLES ON THE SURENDAL FJELDS. 121 
it the bear ? Again the double grunt was repeated— 
louder ; and I thought I could also detect the faint 
rustling among the birch-branches. No doubt it was 
Bruin sniffing the breeze, and perhaps scenting danger; 
for though I momentarily expected his appearance, he 
never showed, and, after a brief period of suspense and 
expectancy, it was clear that he had gone, though not a 
sound had reached my ears since those twice-repeated 
grunts. Had but the breeze held fair, in all probability 
the bear would have presented a point-blank shot at 
thirty-five yards in the open ; but, alas ! no air moved, 
not a leaf was now stirring, and perhaps that second 
sniff had betokened his “winding” us, and assuring 
himself of an already-suspected danger. The light airs 
had betrayed us—at any rate, we neither saw nor heard 
anything more that night. 
At four o’clock, the sun being then high, and melt¬ 
ing the rime and hoar frost that at midnight had 
incrusted the grass and bushes, we arose, stiff and 
benumbed, and departed. The next night another gun 
performed the vigil, but neither on that nor on the third 
evening did the bear return. On that third morning, 
having arranged to spend the next two days on the 
fjeld, Ivar and I left the spot about six, and proceeded 
upwards from the scene of these nocturnal watches, 
following at first (merely for amusement) the broad 
slots left by the bear on the soft ground. These we 
soon lost in the midst of strong thicket; but about a 
mile or two beyond, Ivar, who was faithfully hunting 
for nests of the northern tit and wood-lark, chanced on 
the spot which had recently formed our bear’s bedroom. 
On the outermost spur of a projecting bluff, or buttress, 
