“Asia next, I suppose?”
“Yes, straight across to Kamschatka. There we shall meet with the ‘Siberian,’ or ‘collared bear’ (ursus collaris). Of these, two varieties are said to exist, one of which, specified by the name ursus sibiricus, is also found in Lapland and Siberia.”
“Go on, brother! Where next?”
“From Kamschatka we shall make a long traverse to the south-west. Our best hunting-ground will be Borneo.”
“Ah! the beautiful little bear with the orange-coloured breast!”
“Yes; that is the ‘Bornean bear’ (ursus euryspilus), or ‘Bruang,’ as he is called by the Malays.”
“But there is another Bruang?”
“Yes—the ‘Malayan sun-bear’ (ursus malagenus). This we shall encounter in Sumatra or Java, whichever we choose to visit.”
“Well, the list is much larger than I expected; certainly it has been wonderfully lengthened since the days of the good old Linnaeus.”
“We have not reached the end yet.”
“Where next, brother?”
“Up the Bay of Bengal, and on to the Himalayas. First in the foot-hills of these mountains we shall have to search for the curious ‘sloth bear,’ or ‘juggler’s bear’ (ours de jongleurs) as the French writers term him. He is the ursus labiatus of naturalists; and we may find him in the plains of India, before reaching the Himalayas. Having skinned him, we shall proceed to climb the great mountains, and higher up we are certain to come across the ‘Thibet bear’ (ursus thibetanus)—by some very erroneously described as being one of the numerous varieties of the European brown bear! Still higher up we shall, I hope, have the good luck to encounter and kill a specimen of the ‘Isabella bear’ (ursus isabelinus), so called from his colour, but termed by Anglo-Indian sportsmen the ‘snow bear,’ because he frequents the declivities near the snow-line of these stupendous mountains.”
“That is all, is it not?”
“No, Ivan—one more, and that will be the last.”
“What is he?”
“The ‘Syrian’ (ursus syriacus); and though the last in our catalogue, this is the very first on record: for they were bears of this species that came out of the wood and ‘tare forty and two’ of the mockers of the prophet Elisha. We shall have to visit Syria, to procure a skin of the ursus syriacus.”
“Well, I hope their ferociousness has been tamed down since Elisha’s time, else we may stand a fair chance of being served in a similar fashion.”
“No doubt we shall have many a scratch before we encounter the bears of Mount Lebanon. When we have obtained a robe from one of them, there will be nothing more for us to do but take the most direct route home. We shall then have gone once round the world.”
“Ah, that we shall!” said Ivan, laughing; “and all over it too. Great Czar! I think by the time we have captured one of Elisha’s bears, we shall have had a surfeit of travel.”
“No doubt of it; but now, brother, that we know where we are going, let us waste no more time, but signify our acceptance of the conditions, and be off at once.”
“Agreed,” said Ivan; and both returning into the presence of the baron, announced their readiness to take the road.
“Are we to travel alone, papa?” inquired Ivan; “I think you spoke of an attendant?”
“Yes, one attendant. You must not be encumbered with too many servants to wait upon you. One will be quite sufficient.”
“Who is it to be?” asked Ivan.
The baron rang the bell, and a servant entered.
“Send Corporal Pouchskin to me!”
Shortly after, the door reopened, and a man of about fifty appeared. The tall well-balanced form and erect attitude—the close-cropped hair and enormous grizzled moustache—combined with great gravity of features, denoted a veteran of the Imperial Guard—one of those grand and redoubtable soldiers who have seen service in the presence of an emperor. Though no longer wearing the military uniform, but dressed somewhat as a park or game keeper, the silent salute and attitude of “attention” were sufficiently indicative of the profession which Pouchskin had followed: for it was the veritable Pouchskin who had entered the apartment. He said not a word, nor did he look either to the right or left—only directly forward, and at the baron.
“Corporal Pouchskin!”
“General!”
“I wish you to make a journey.”
“I am ready.”
“Not quite, corporal. I will give you an hour to prepare.”
“Where does the general wish me to go?”
“Round the world.”
“Half an hour will suffice.”
“So much the better, then. Prepare to start in half an hour.”
Pouchskin bowed and retired.
Chapter Six.
To the Tornea.
We shall not detail the parting interview between the Baron Grodonoff and his sons; there was the usual interchange of affectionate expressions, with as much feeling as is common on such occasions. Neither need we relate the ordinary incidents of travel which befell our expeditionists, on their way to the mountains of Lapland. Suffice it to say that they journeyed by post from Saint Petersburg direct to Tornea, at the head of the Great Bothnian Gulf. Thence they proceeded northward up this river Tornea—till they had reached the mountainous region in which this stream takes its rise. They were amply furnished with the means of travelling in the most expeditious manner, and were not encumbered with any great amount of luggage. A bag of roubles, which Pouchskin carried in a safe pocket, proved the most convenient article they could have taken along with them; since it enabled them to supply their wants from day to day, without troubling themselves with any cumbersome baggage. There are few parts of the world in which ready money will not command the necessaries of life; and as this was all our hunters cared for, they had no difficulty in obtaining supplies—even in the remote regions of uncivilised Lapland. The wild, half-savage Lap perfectly comprehends the value of a coin; and will exchange for it his reindeer flesh and milk, or anything else that may be asked from him. Our young hunters therefore travelled lightly—with little else in the shape of baggage than a pair of knapsacks which they carried on their backs, and which contained only a change or two of linen, and such toilet articles as were absolutely necessary to their comfort. A knapsack of much larger dimensions formed the chief care of Pouchskin; and although this, with its contents, would have been a heavy load for an ordinary man, the veteran of the Imperial Guard thought no more of it than if it had been a bag of feathers. Each in addition carried an ample fur cloak; which, on the march, was folded up and strapped to their backs on top of the knapsack, but at night was wrapped around their bodies, and served both as bed and bedclothes. All three were