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Updated: June 5, 2025
A roaring fire was kindled; and Pouchskin's capacious haversack being turned inside out, all four were soon enjoying their dinner-supper with that zest well-known to those who have ridden twenty miles up a steep mountain-road.
Pouchskin started off to procure a pole. The others kept guard still holding their guns in readiness, lest the bear might make a rush in Pouchskin's absence. But Bruin had no such intention; nor was his presence betrayed by sight or sound, until Pouchskin came back. He had cut a pole with his axe, and had taken the precaution to select a long one.
Once or twice, indeed, the bear was close enough to touch Pouchskin's skirts with his extended snout; but the necessity of rearing up, before making a stroke with his paw, required him to get still nearer, and Bruin knew that. He had, however, got near enough even for this; and had risen on his hind feet, with the intention of clawing down his victim.
It was now Pouchskin's turn; and in a second after the loud report of the grenadier's gun went booming over the lake, while the ball splashed the water right into the eyes of the bear. Though it did not hit any part of his body, it had the effect of half-turning him so that he now swam towards Alexis, stationed at the bottom of the bay. Alexis took the matter more coolly.
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