The next morning the storm broke, and we started back to our camp behind the rocks, for the skins we had recently shot needed to be cleaned and dried.  We reached camp that afternoon, where I found my old hunter, Fedor, who was now better, and had come to join us.  He had arrived the night before, and reported that he had seen three bears on the marsh.  He said he had watched them all the evening, and that the next morning two more had made their appearance.  He could no longer withstand this temptation, and just before we had arrived had shot a small black bear with an excellent skin.

Two days after, a bear was reported in the meadow, and as it was my friend’s turn to shoot, he started with his hunter to make the stalk.  It was raining at the time, and I was almost tempted to lie among my blankets; but my love of sport was too strong, and, armed with powerful glasses, I joined the men on the rocks to watch the hunters.

The bear had fed well out into the meadow not far from a small clump of trees.  In order to reach this clump of trees, Blake and Ivan were obliged to wade quite a deep stream, and had removed their clothes.  Unfortunately my friend carelessly left his coat, in the pocket of which were all the extra cartridges for his and Ivan’s rifles.

I saw them reach the clump of trees, and then turned the glasses on the bear.  At the first shot he sprang back in surprise, while Blake’s bullet went high.  The bear now located the shot, and began a quick retreat to the woods, when one of my friend’s bullets struck him, rolling him over.  He instantly regained his feet, and continued making for cover, walking slowly and looking back over his shoulder all the while.  Blake now fired another shot, and again the bear was apparently badly hit.  He moved at such a slow pace that I thought he had surely received a mortal wound.

Entirely against orders, Ivan now shot three times in quick succession, hitting the bear with one shot in the hind leg, his other two shots being misses.  Blake now rushed after the bear with his hunter following some fifty yards behind, and approached to within ten steps, when he fired his last cartridge, hitting the bear hard.  The beast fell upon its head, but once more regaining its feet, continued toward the woods.  At this point Ivan fired his last cartridge, but missed.  The bear continued for several steps, while the two hunters stood with empty rifles watching.  Suddenly, quick as a flash, he swung round upon his hind legs and gave one spring after Blake, who, not understanding his Aleut’s shouts not to run, started across the marsh, with the bear in close pursuit.  At every step the bear was gaining, and Ivan, appreciating that unless the bear’s attention was distracted, my friend would soon be pulled down, began waving his arms and shouting at the top of his voice, in order to attract the bear’s attention from Blake.  The latter saw that his hunter was standing firm, and, taking in the situation, suddenly stopped.  The bear charged to within a few feet of the two men; but, when he saw their determined stand, paused, and, swinging his head from side to side, watched them for some seconds, apparently undecided whether to charge home or leave them.  Then he turned, and, looking back over his shoulder, made slowly for the woods.