Once on land, we found the going very bad, and often wallowed in the snow mid-thigh deep.  Then was the time for snowshoes, which we had been told were unnecessary.  Floundering along in this soft snow began to tell a little on the keenness of the party, when Vacille and Ivan, who were off on one side, suddenly waved, and hunting on to them we were shown the bear far up the valley in some bushes.  As he lay on his side in the snow he looked much like a cord of wood, and very large.  The wind came quartering down the valley, and made a stalk difficult, so it was thought best to wait, as the bear would probably come down nearer the water in the evening.  We watched nearly four hours, and during that time the bear made perhaps 150 yards in all, crawling, rolling over, lapping his paws, occasionally trying a somersault, and finally landing in a patch of alders.

As night was upon us, we decided to chance the situation, and approached along a ridge on one side of the valley until almost above the bear.  At this point Tchort, the dog, caught the scent, broke away, and raced down over the bluff out of sight.  Almost immediately the bear appeared in the open 200 yards away, legging as fast as he could in the snow, and headed for the hillside.  Merriam made a good shot behind the shoulder with his fifty.  The bear fell, caught his feet again, and was in and over a small brook, leaving a bloody road behind him, which Tchort was quick in following.  The dog was soon nipping the bear’s heels, and giving him a good deal of trouble.  Up the side of the hill they raced, Merriam firing when the dog gave him opportunity.  The bear, angry and worried, suddenly whipped around and made for the dog, which in the soft snow at such close quarters could not escape.  But Tchort, a born fighter, accepted the only chance and closed in.  He disappeared completely between the forelegs of the bear, and we felt that all was over.  To our great wonder in a few seconds he crawled out from beneath the hindquarters of his enemy, and engaged him again.  One more shot and the bear lay quiet.  The skin was a beauty—­dark brown, with a little silvering of gray over the shoulders, without any rubbed spots, such as are common on bears only just out of their dens.  Some brush was thrown over the bear, and we rowed back to the sloop, well content.  The next day, which was foggy and rainy, was spent in getting off the skin, measuring and weighing the animal piecemeal, and carrying all back to the sloop.

Contrary to expectation, the bear was found to be still covered with a thin layer of fat, even after his long hibernation.  Before weighing, our men, who had killed some thirty bear among them, said that this one was two-thirds as large as any they had seen.