he will not be able to remember his alphabet!” What we should have done in the last extremity will never be known.  A shot from the Major’s revolver seemed to alter the bear’s original plan of operations, and, swerving suddenly to one side, he crashed through the bushes ten feet from the muzzles of our empty rifles, and disappeared in the forest.  A careful examination of the leaves and grass failed to reveal any signs of blood, and we were reluctantly forced to the conclusion that he escaped unscathed.

Hunting a bear with a Russian rifle is a very pleasant and entirely harmless diversion.  The animal has plenty of time, after the gun begins to fizzle, to eat a hearty dinner of blueberries, run fifteen miles across a range of mountains into a neighbouring province, and get comfortably asleep in his hole before the deadly explosion takes place!

It would have been unsafe for any one to suggest “bear steaks” to the Major or me at any time during the succeeding week.

We camped for the night under the huge spreading branches of a gnarled birch, a few versts from the scene of our exploit, and early Friday morning were off for Sidanka.  When about fifteen versts from the village Dodd suggested a gallop, to try the mettle of our horses and warm our blood.  As we were both well mounted, I challenged him to a steeplechase as far as the settlement.  Of all the reckless breakneck riding that we ever did in Kamchatka, this was the worst.  The horses soon became as excited as their riders, and tore through the bushes and leaped over ravines, logs, rocks, and swamps with a perfect frenzy.  Once I was dragged from my saddle by the catching of my rifle against a limb, and several times we both narrowly escaped knocking our brains out against trees.  As we approached the town we saw three or four Kamchadals cutting wood a short distance ahead.  Dodd gave a terrifying shout like a Sioux war-whoop, put spurs to his horse, and we came upon them like a thunderbolt.  At the sight of two swarthy strangers in blue hunting-shirts, top-boots, and red caps, with pistols belted around their waists, and knives dangling at their girdles, charging down upon them like Mamelukes at the battle of the Pyramids, the poor Kamchadals flung away their axes and fled for their lives to the woods.  Except when I was dragged off my horse, we never once drew rein until our animals stood panting and foaming in the village.  If you wish to draw a flash of excitement from Dodd’s eyes, ask him if he remembers the steeplechase to Sidanka.

That night we floated down the Tigil River to Tigil, where we arrived just at dark, having accomplished in sixteen days a journey of eleven hundred and thirty versts.