Chapter 64 - The Grand Bear Hunt by Mayne Reid
The Last Chase
Our travellers descended once more to the plains of Hindostan, and crossed the peninsula by dak to Bombay. From Bombay they sailed through the Indian Ocean, and up the Persian Gulf to the port of Bussora, on the Euphrates. Ascending the Tigris branch of this Asiatic river, they reached the famed city of Bagdad. They were now en route for the haunts of the Syrian bear among the snowy summits of Mount Lebanon. With a Turkish caravan, therefore, they started from Bagdad; and after much toil and many hardships, arrived in the city of Damascus—the scene of so many troubles and massacres caused by the fanaticism of a false religion.
With these questions our travellers had nothing to do; nor did they stay any length of time within the walls of the unhappy city. Soon after their arrival in the place, they obtained all the information they required of the whereabouts of the Syrian bear; and their steps were now directed towards the snowy summits of Libanus—better known to Christians by its Scriptural name of Mount Lebanon.
In these mountains the Syrian bear (ursus syriacus) is found; and it is only a few years since the animal was discovered there. Every naturalist had doubted the existence of bears in any part of Syria—as they now deny that there are any in Africa. Those who acknowledge it, are inclined to regard the Syrian bear as a mere variety of the ursus arctos; but this theory is altogether incorrect. In shape, colour, and many of his habits, the Syrian bear differs essentially from his brown congener; and his dwelling-place—instead of being in forest-covered tracts—is more generally in open ground or among rocks. In fact, his range upon the Syrian mountains is very similar to that of the “snow bear” on the Himalayas—near the line of perpetual snow.
The colour of the ursus syriacus is a light ash or fulvous brown, often—with a hoary or silvery tinge—but the colour varies at times to lighter and deeper shades. The hair lies close against the skin—in this respect differing from most of the species, in which the fur stands erect or perpendicular to the outlines of the body. This gives the Syrian bear the appearance of being a thinner and smaller animal, than many bears of upright fur that are no bigger than he.
By one characteristic mark he may be easily identified; and that is, by his having an erect ridge of fur running from his neck along the spine of his back, and looking not unlike the mane of a donkey. But, indeed, the Syrian bear may be easily distinguished from any other member of this family; and to regard him as a mere variety of the ursus arctos, is only going back to the old system that considers all the bears as one and the same species.
The Syrian bear does not inhabit the whole range of the mountains that pass under the general name of Lebanon. Only on the loftier summits is he found—particularly on that known as Mount Makmel. This summit is covered with snow; and it is under the snow-line he usually makes his haunt. Sometimes, however, he descends to a lower elevation; and in the village gardens—just as does the snow bear in the Himalayas—he makes sad havoc among fruits and vegetables. He will also kill sheep, goats, and even larger animals, that come in his way; and when provoked will attack the hunter without fear. He is most dreaded in the night: for it is during the darkness he generally makes his plundering expeditions. Both shepherds and hunters have been killed by him—proving that he still retains the savage character given to him in the Scriptures; where several of his kind—she-bears they were—are represented as having torn “forty and two of the mockers of Elisha.”
He appears to have been equally characterised by a ferocity of disposition in the crusading ages—since it is related that the great leader Godfrey slew one of these bears, whom he found assaulting a poor woodcutter of Antioch; and the affair was considered a feat of great prowess, by those eccentric champions of the Cross.
That the Syrian bear is still as ferocious and savage, as he ever could have been, our hunters proved by their own experience: for although they did not get into the power of one, they would certainly have done so—some one of them at least—had they not been fortunate enough to kill the bear before he could lay his claws upon them. But we shall briefly describe the adventure; which was the last our hunters were engaged in—at least, the last we find recorded in the journal of Alexis.
Bischerre, a little mountain village, situated near the snow-line on Mount Makmel, had become their temporary headquarters. Its neighbourhood was celebrated for the great number of bears that frequent it. These animals descending from the higher ridges surrounding it, frequently enter the gardens of the villagers, and rob them of their vegetables and chick peas (cicer arietinus)—the latter being a favourite food of the Syrian bear.
From Bischerre the hunters extended their excursions on foot: since the nature of the ground would not admit of their using horses; and they had succeeded in getting several good “bear-chases,” and in killing a brace of these animals. Both, however, were very young ones—cubs, in fact—and their skins would not do. A better specimen must be procured.
This came into their hands in the following manner:—
They had succeeded in tracing a bear up into a rocky ravine—the entrance into which was not over ten or twelve feet in width. The ravine itself was a steep descent leading up to the mountains; and its bottom, or bed, was covered with a conglomeration of large rounded boulders, that looked as if they had been rolled into this shape by water. They resembled the round stones sometimes seen in rivers; and no doubt there was a torrent there at times; but just then the channel was dry, and not a drop of water appeared anywhere. There was no snow either; as the place was below the line of snow; and they had only traced the bear into it on information given them by some shepherds, who had seen the animal recently enter it.
Belying upon this information, they kept up the defile, making their way with difficulty over the loose pebbles. They had a hope that the bear was still somewhere within the gorge; and that they might find him in some crevice or cave. On each side rose high cliffs that almost met over head; and our hunters, as they scrambled up the steep, examined these cliffs carefully—expecting to perceive the mouth of a cavern. The place was likely enough, for at every few yards they saw crevices and deep cavities; but in none of them could they find any traces of Bruin.
They had got about halfway through the ravine—and were still scrambling upward—when a loud sniff drew their attention; and, looking in the direction whence it appeared to have proceeded, there, sure enough, was the identical animal they were after—Master Bruin himself. They saw only his snout; which was projected out from the face of the cliff, about twenty feet above the bed of the ravine. His whole head was shortly after poked forth, and seen en profile from below, it looked as if there was a bear’s head glued against the flat surface of the rock, just as stags’ heads are seen ornamenting the halls of grand country mansions. Our hunters, however, knew there must be a cave behind—in which was the body of the bear, though it was concealed from their eyes.
The bear, after glancing at the intruders who had disturbed him, drew back his head so suddenly, that not a shot could be fired in time. The hunters, in order to get into a better position, hurried past under the cave; and took stand several paces above it—where they were able to command a better view of the entrance.
They were now on a level with the hole out of which the head had shown itself; and without speaking a word, only in whispers, they waited for the reappearance of the snout.
It was not long before they had the satisfaction of seeing it. Whether from curiosity to know if they were gone—or with the design of sallying forth in pursuit of them—the bear once more protruded his muzzle from the hole. Fearing that he might draw it back again, and not give them another chance, all three fired, and in such haste that two of them quite missed the object. Only the bullet of Alexis had been properly aimed; and this was seen striking the bear right in the teeth—several of which were shot clean out of his jaws!
As the smoke cleared out of their eyes, the great yellow body of the bear was observed out upon the little ledge that projected in front of the cave; and uttering loud screams—expressive both of rage and pain—the angry animal bounded down among the boulders. Instead of making down the ravine—as our hunters expected—he turned upwards, and rushed directly towards them.
Again there was no alternative but flight; and up the steep gorge they must go. To make downward would be to run right upon the claws of the infuriated animal; and upward was the only way left open to them.
All three started and ran as fast as they were able; and for a while were in hopes of distancing their pursuer. But further up, the slope grew steeper; and the loose stones became more difficult to clamber over. Their breath, too, was by this time quite gone; and all three were panting like “winded” horses.
It was impossible for them to go a step farther.
In despair, they halted; and turned to face the pursuer—all of them at the same instant drawing their knives; and bracing their bodies for the expected struggle. The bear, still growling and screaming, came on—making way over the stones much faster than they had done. He would have been certain of overtaking them, had they continued their race: for he was scarce six paces behind them when they stopped.
No doubt it would have been a dangerous conflict, had it come off; and, indeed, breathless as they were, they could never have sustained the attack. Of course, they had no time to reload their guns, and did not think of such a thing. Their determination was to defend themselves with their knives; and perhaps they might have succeeded in doing so, had there been an occasion. But there was not.
Before the bear could get up to them, a better idea had flashed across the brain of Pouchskin; which he lost not a moment in carrying into execution. Stooping suddenly, and flinging his knife out of his hands, he laid hold of a large boulder—big enough to weigh at least half a hundred—and, raising this to the height of his shoulder, he hurled it down upon the bear!
The huge stone struck the animal right upon the breast; and what with the force by which it had been launched from Pouchskin’s powerful arm, and the impetus it had gained in its descent, it acted on Bruin like a thunderbolt—not only knocking him over on his back, but carrying his body along with it full ten paces down the gorge!
When the hunters at length reloaded their guns, and went down to where Bruin lay among the rocks, they found him lying doubled up as dead as mutton!
Having stripped him of his fulvous skin, they returned to Bischerre; and next day packing up their impedimenta, they crossed through the passes of Mount Libanus, and proceeded onward to the shores of the Mediterranean Sea.
Home was now thy word; and right pleasant was the sound of it in their ears. The grand bear-hunt was ended. They had accomplished the task imposed upon them—having kept every condition of their covenant.
Of course they expected a grand welcome upon their return; and in this expectation they were not disappointed; for many days and nights after the baronial halls of the Palace Grodonoff echoed the sounds of mirth and revelry.
In the museum our young hunters met their old acquaintances, from, all parts of the world. They encountered them standing in different attitudes—all mounted in the most approved fashion. The Syrian bear was the only one not among them: as they had themselves brought his skin—all the others having been sent home by “Parcels Delivery.” In a few days, however, the ursus syriacus was set upon his legs; and the collection was complete.
The news of the “Grand Bear-Hunt,” with its curious conditions, soon got abroad; and travelled all round the social circle of Saint Petersburgh. Figuratively speaking, our young hunters were transformed into animals themselves—they became “lions,”—and remained so for that season; but even at this hour in the salons of the great Russian capital, you may often hear introduced, as a favourite topic of conversation—