Although we had a good tent with us, we used, for the most part, the native hunting barabara for shelter.  These are fairly clean and comfortable, and are found in every bay of any size.

The natives inherit their hunting grounds, and are apparently scrupulous in observing each other’s rights.  In fact, it is dangerous to invade another man’s trapping country, as one may spring a Klipse trap set for fox and otter, and receive a dangerous gash from the blade that makes these contrivances so deadly.

On the way to the hunting grounds Vacille pointed out to us a cliff where he once had an exciting bear hunt.

There were two hunters, and they were fortunate enough to locate an inhabited den in early spring.  Two bears were killed through crevices in the rocks, but the men suspected there was still one inside, and Vacille crawled in to make sure.  He found himself in a fair sized chamber with a bear at the other end, and a lucky shot tumbled the animal at his feet.

This story brought up others of bear hunting with the lance.  Before firearms came into common use, boys were given lessons in fighting the bear with the lance, and became very expert at it.  Their method was to approach a bear as closely as possible, without being seen, then show themselves suddenly, and as the bear reared strike home.  The lance was held fast by the native, and the bear was often mortally wounded by forcing the lance into himself in his struggles to reach his enemy.

This class of native no longer exists on Kadiak, but it is said there is one famous old Aleut near Iliamna Lake on the mainland who scorns any but this method of hunting.

High above the den where the three bears were killed was a scoop out of the cliff called the shaman’s barabara.  Here, before Russian times, the shamans or witches were buried, and here also were kept the masks used in certain ceremonial rites.  The Russians removed the mummies and masks long ago.

The shamans were considered oracles.  It was claimed they could prevent a whale from swimming out of a bay by dragging a bag of fat, extracted from the dead body of a newly born infant, across the entrance.  Their instructions were unfailingly obeyed, as it was supposed they could cause death as a punishment for their enemies.

One evening at our first halting place beyond Ozinka, we found tracks in the snow on one side of our valley, and early in the morning came upon a two-year-old bear, not far from camp.  The bear was grubbing about on the hillside, and we took our position so that he crossed us under a hundred yards.  Unbeknown to me, and just as I was about to fire, my native gave the caw of a raven to hold the bear up.  He whipped around and faced us, my bullet entering the brush on one side of him.  Off he rushed into the woods with the dog after him.  I followed, and on coming out into a clearing saw the dog being left far behind on the mountain side.  Old Tchort was not in condition.  This was sad and illustrated the fact that it is sometimes best to be alone.