The storm after a while appeared to be rolling off. The thunder-claps
were not so immediately over our heads, and the flashes of lightning
were less frequent; in fact a perfect lull existed for a short space of
time, marking the passage probably to an oppositely electrified zone of
the thunder-cloud. During this brief lull we were startled by hearing
all at once a frightful yelling from the quarter where the Wallacks were
camping, a little higher up than our hut.

Amidst the general hullabaloo of dogs barking and men shouting we at
last distinguished the cry of "Ursa, ursa!" which is Wallachian for
bear. Our camp became the scene of the most tremendous excitement;
everybody rushed out, but in the thick darkness it was impossible to
pursue the bear. The more experienced sportsmen were not so eager to
sally out after the bear, as they were anxious to prevent a stampede of
the horses. When the latter were secured as well as circumstances would
permit, a few guns were fired off to warn the bear, and then there was
nothing for it but to watch and wait. The dogs went on barking for more
than an hour, but otherwise the camp relapsed into stillness. I spent
the remainder of the night sitting on a log before the fire, smoking my
pipe with the bowl downwards, for the rain had never ceased, and clouds
of steam rose from our camp-fires. The fear was that the powder would
get wet. I must have dropped off my perch asleep, for I picked myself up
the next morning out of a pool of water. It was already dawn, and
looking eastward I saw a streak of light beneath a dark curtain of
cloud, like the gleam on the edge of a sword, so sharp and defined was
it. This was hopeful; it had ceased raining too, and a brisk wind came
up the valley.

There was plenty to be done, in drying our clothes and preparing