yards away, and immediately dropping on all fours, with a deep woof woof " came straight at me. As may be imagined, I lost no time in letting off the rifle. He swerved as the bullet struck him, and passing within a yard of me, galloped down the hill. But his race was run; and after a few strides he collapsed and rolled down, head over heels, until brought up by a bush. I had reloaded the rifle, and as he made an effort to rise I thought it advisable to give him another bullet, and all was over. Poor old chap! He had met his end right bravely; and much as I prized the trophy, I could not help feeling a regret at having taken the life of so gallant a beast. Still, at one time it was his life or mine, for he was not six yards from me when I shot him. It may be asked why I did not shoot him as he reappeared from behind the rock just before he charged. I can only reply that the whole proceeding was a matter of seconds. His reappearance was as sudden as that of a Jack-in-the-box, and quite as much 80 was his stopping just before he caught sight of me. An active beast like a bear doesn't waste time over his movements, unless with intention. The abrupt halt from a lumbering gallop, the half rise, and the charge which immediately followed, were all equally sudden and unexpected, and barely gave time for the rifle to be raised to the shoulder. The explanation of his strange behaviour is, I think, simply this. He was, in the first instance, startled by the report, the nature of which he knew only too well, and, obeying his natural instincts, incontinently bolted. Then he missed his mate, and not seeing or scenting danger, came back to look for her in a very disgruntled frame of mind. Then he caught sight of me standing a few yards off, and, again obeying his natural instinct, charged on the instant. The strange thing was not his charging me, which in the circumstances was perfectly natural, but that in mid flight, and before he had gone any appreciable distance, he should have pulled up in the face of probable and immediate danger, and returned to look for his mate; for it is in the highest degree improbable that he came back to look for an invisible enemy. He had been shot at on two previous occasions quite recently, and therefore must have associated the report of a rifle with danger; and yet he had deliberately courted rather than desert his companion. It seems to me a wonderful example of devotion on the part of a wild beast, and one which would have been deserving of the highest praise if performed by a human being. Another curious feature was that he should have missed her almost at once. It would have been more in accordance with the instinots of the wild, as we understand them, had he gone for 300 or 400 yards before stopping to see if she was coming. The red bear is commonly supposed to be harmless to man, and undoubtedly he is far more pacific than his black cousin. But that a red bear will charge when cornered has been verified more than once; and the above account shows that he will do so on other occasions, even when unwounded. The first thing to be done was to measure our trophies. Feroze Khan had now joined me, and together we pulled the larger bear clear of the bush and into a horizontal position. A couple of uprights were quickly cut and planted at nose and tail, and the tape was stretched between. The measurement read 7 ft. 5 in. -a huge size for a red bear, and one, I imagine, that has seldom been exceeded. He was enormously bulky, too, and altogether as fine a speci men at Rowland Ward's told me that only once before had he seen a skin of Ursus Isabellinus of that peculiar shade. I had now got three splendid specimens of this species, and vowed to myself never to shoot another-a vow which, I am glad to say, I have never been tempted to break. The bullet, by the way, had caught the male in the chest, and had completely raked him. It was fortunate for me that I was using a heavy rifle, for I doubt very much whether a light 275 bullet would have stopped him. We now set to work to skin the bears-a lengthy and cold process, as the sun had set; and before long we had to work by the light of the lantern which Feroze Khan had thoughtfully brought with him. Great was the jubilation in camp when we returned, long after dark, with the skins and skulls; for even the phlegmatic cook had begun to take an interest in these two mysterious beasts. The owner of the flocks turned up again next morning, and The coats of both bears expressed much satisfaction on were in perfect condition. That beholding the skin of his old of the male was of a very dark enemy. That's the shaitan," brown, almost uniform in col- he exclaimed, "I know him our, and consequently not so like my own brother. Many handsome as the silver-tipped a sheep has he had of mine!" skin of the bear previously I thanked him for keeping shot. But the fur was just as thick and long, and the head was very much larger. as one could wish for. The other measured just under 5 ft.-about the usual size of a female. The coat of the female was of a uniform cream colour-a great rarity. The taxidermist his sheep off the hill, and sent Feroze Khan to show him where the carcases lay; and off he went forthwith to get his share of the spoil in the shape of fat. My leave was now drawing to a close, so on the following morning (the coolies previously arranged for having turned up) we packed up, and marched by easy stages to Srinagar via the Lolab and Shadipore. At the latter place I ran across Lussoo, who, mindful of our ill-success the year before, was greatly surprised at my bag, now consisting of 3 ibex, 3 bears, and a gooral. He was still more astonished, and I think quite pained, to hear that I had not taken a shikari. I left him dolefully shaking his head and murmuring Kismet "; by which cryptic observation he doubtless intended to imply that fate had been unusually kind to me, which, indeed, was perfectly true. Arrived at Srinagar, I duly reported the death of the third bear to the Game Department, as I was only entitled to two on my licence. In vain I urged that the last had been shot in self-defence. The secretary was adamant, and I was told that I could either hand over the skin, or take out an extra licence costing thirty rupees. To part with my hard-won trophy was not to be thought of, so there was no alternative but to pay up and look pleasant. A few days later, as the train bore me relentlessly dutywards, I was renewing for the umpteenth time the delights of an Indian hot weather; but I consoled myself with the reflection that I had enjoyed as good a two months' shoot as had ever fallen to my lot in Kashmir, and the cheapest into the bargain; for if I had not saved money over the trip, I had at least spent, thanks to the absence of a shikari, far less than on any previous occasion. The grand head of old "De Wet," beautifully mounted by Rowland Ward, still adorns my walls, and is, I need hardly add, one of my most valued trophies. SALVAGE. BY E. G. M. THE Ocean-going tug St George lay at anchor in St Mary's Roads. Dawn had been clear and quiet, and in the morning a light breeze came in from the south bearing faintly the roar of the surf upon the outlying reefs. By noon the sun had become encircled in a faintly luminous ring, and its brightness had faded to a cold glare. John Power, the Captain, was pacing to and fro upon the bridge. As he watched the sky it seemed as if a veil were drawn over it, and the sun, a shrunken disc, appeared to stagger through a sea of formless vapour flecked with fragments of heavy cloud. The breeze failed, and the ship lay rolling uneasily. Behind the stillness Power felt, vaguely, the presence of a furious commotion. As he watched, the gloom became a solid darkness, the southern islands were blotted out, and in their place a livid grey line swept across the roadstead towards the ship, and the silence was broken by a whispering sound which swelled to a roar as a torrent of wind and rain fell upon her. The cable tautened with a jerk rasping in the hawse-pipe. She heeled and swung, and with an answering shout seemed to plunge headlong into chaos. Through the night the St George rode out the gale to both anchors, under a full head of steam. Power could not rest. In his cabin a deep vibrating note note became perceptible, felt more than heard, like the bass of some vast stringed instrument vague and enormous, the voice of the ship answering the storm. From time to time he fought his way forward, hand over hand along the rail. From the stem he could see, in the narrow circle of light thrown by his torch, the cables, rigid as bars of iron, jutting outwards into the darkness. Day came bringing no change. At noon Power went to the wireless room. He was glancing through the small heap of signals which lay upon the table, when Wilson, the operator, suddenly leaned forward in his chair, took up a pencil, and began to write : CQ CQ CQ de AYC AYC AYC SOS SOS SOS." Power followed the letters. They stood out from the paper vividly distinct. "CT He picked up the call-sign book-was this an SOS from some ship beyond his reach, or did it mean work? The message took form: "All ships from Lancastrian SOS SOS SOS Lat. 4. . . There was a pause; on Wilson's face was the expression of one trying desperately to distinguish sounds which are faintly heard. The silence was broken by the sharp snap of a switch, and there followed the shrill note of the transmitter and the tapping of a key. "St GeorgeLancastrian repeat all after Latitude...." Another silence, then Wilson began to write again, "SOS Lancastrian Lat. 49.55 N. Long. 6.48 W." Power seized a pad and wrote, "Am proceeding immediately from Scillies to your assistance, what is your damage?" He pushed the signal in front of Wilson and went out. Twenty minutes later the St George was heading for Broad Sound at full speed. On the bridge Power and Cameron, his mate, stood gazing intently to windward where the islands lay hidden in rain and spindrift. Annet Head loomed up upon the bow. Power gave the order, "Port a little... steady" A shout came from forward, the words almost lost in the wind, "Buoy . . . Port . . ." and an arm waved as a buoy, plunging and spinning in the tide, leapt into view and as suddenly disappeared astern. Power called to Cameron, "Go into the wheel-house ... course W S, but watch me . . . weathergoing tide. . . hell out by the Bishop." The door slammed. A second buoy rushed by. Power beckoned to the lookout to come aft to the bridge, and made a sign to Cameron. The bow swung to port and steadied. Once Power thought he heard the signal from the lighthouse above the roar of the wind and sea. Suddenly the bow swooped down into an unseen hollow, was flung up again, and then fell slanting with a crash, buried in a welter of broken water. Power jerked the telegraph to "Slow" as the ship heeled over, her rail buried from bow to stern. Close to windward, as it seemed, Power heard the boom of the lighthouse gun. He made a sign to port the helm, and as the water cleared off the deck the ship slowly righted and gathered way. To leeward lay Flemings Ledge, Tearing Ledge, and the Crim Rocks; and to windward the shoals and reefs around the Bishop; through this wilderness lay the channel where the tide raced and eddied. Power set the telegraph to "Full ahead," and braced himself against the rail. In such a place there was no sparing the ship, he must drive her through by sheer force. He felt her gathering way; then driven by the full power of her engines she crashed into a sea stem-on. A wall of water leapt up, hung poised for an instant high above the ship, and then burst upon her with the force of an explosion. Blinded and gasping he clung to the rail. From behind him came the sound of splintering glass. With a splendid leap the bow freed itself and a roaring torrent swept aft, raildeep, burying the stern. Then, as if she had plunged suddenly into a hell of tormented waves, the sea leapt upon her from every side. Reeling and staggering like a giant smashing his way under a hail of blows |