Two days later we set out from our camp behind the rocks and paddled a short distance up the bay.

Here we left the baidarkas and crossed a large meadow without sighting bear.  We then followed some miles the banks of a small stream.  Leaving my friend with his two men, I pushed ahead with my natives to investigate the country beyond.  But the underbrush was so dense it was impossible to see more than a few yards ahead.  We had gone some distance, and Fedor and I had just crossed a deep stream on a rickety fallen tree, while the other native was following, when I chanced to look back and saw a small black bear just opposite.  He must have smelt us, and, wanting to see what sort of creature man was, had deliberately followed up our tracks.  Nikolai had my rifle on the other side of the brook, so I snatched up Fedor’s and twice tried to shoot; but the safety bolt would not work, and when I had it adjusted the bear showed only one shoulder beyond a tree.  It was just drawing back when I pressed the trigger.  The bullet grazed the tree, was deflected, and a patch of hair was all that I had for what promised the surest of shots.

In the afternoon we made for a place which our hunters declared was a sure find for bear; but unlike most “sure places,” we sighted our game even before we reached the ground.  There they were, two large grizzled brutes, feeding on the salt marsh grass like two cows.  We made a most exciting approach in our baidarkas, winding in and out, across the open, up a small lagoon which cut into the meadow where the bears were feeding.  We got to within two hundred yards when they became suspicious, but could not quite make us out.  One now rose on his hind legs to get a better view, and offered a beautiful chance, but I waited for my friend, whose turn it was to have first shot, and he delayed, thinking that I was not ready.  The result was that the bears at once made for the woods, and we both missed.

Stereke again did his part well, catching one of the bears and tackling him in a noble manner, turning him and doing his best to hold him, but this was more than one dog could do, and the bear broke away and soon reached cover.

I am glad to record that with this day’s miss ended some of the most careless shooting I have ever done.

This evening we made our camp on the beach on the other side of the bay.  I was up frequently during the night, for bears were constantly moving about on the mountain side just behind our sleeping place, but although I could distinctly hear them, the thick brush prevented my getting a shot.

In this latitude there is practically no night during the month of June, and I can recall no more enchanting spot than where we were now camped.  Even my hard day’s work would not bring sleep, and I lay with my faithful dog at my feet and gazed on the vast mountains about us, their summits capped with snow, while their sides were clothed in the dull velvet browns of last year’s herbage, through which the vivid greens of a northern summer were rapidly forcing themselves.