"By this time the bears were sitting in a circle all around the tree.
Yes," said Bonaparte impressively, fixing his eyes on the German, "a
regular, exact, circle. The marks of their tails were left in the snow,
and I measured it afterward; a drawing-master couldn't have done it better.
It was that saved me. If they'd rushed on me at once, poor old Bon would
never have been here to tell this story. But they came on, sir,
systematically, one by one. All the rest sat on their tails and waited.
The first fellow came up, and I shot him; the second fellow--I shot him;
the third--I shot him. At last the tenth came; he was the biggest of all--
the leader, you may say.

"'Wall,' I said, 'give me your hand. My fingers are stiff with the cold;
there is only one bullet left. I shall miss him. While he is eating me
you get down and take your gun; and live, dear friend, live to remember the
man who gave his life for you!' By that time the bear was at me. I felt
his paw on my trousers.

"'Oh, Bonnie! Bonnie!' said the Duke of Wellington's nephew. But I just
took my gun and put the muzzle to the bear's ear--over he fell--dead!"

Bonaparte Blenkins waited to observe what effect his story had made. Then
he took out a dirty white handkerchief and stroked his forehead, and more
especially his eyes.

"It always affects me to relate that adventure," he remarked, returning the
handkerchief to his pocket. "Ingratitude--base, vile ingratitude--is
recalled by it! That man, that man, who but for me would have perished in
the pathless wilds of Russia, that man in the hour of my adversity forsook
me." The German looked up. "Yes," said Bonaparte, "I had money, I had
lands; I said to my wife: 'There is Africa, a struggling country; they