Bruin: The Grand Bear Hunt

Chapter Fifty Seven.

The Bruang

As the party proceeded onward, they observed several other tapang-trees, with ladders attached to them; and at the bottom of one of these – which was the tallest they had yet seen – the guide made a halt.

Taking off his kris, and throwing to the ground an axe, which he had brought along, he commenced ascending the tree.

Our hunters inquired his object. They knew it could not be either honey or wax. There had been a bees’ nest upon this tree – as the ladder told – but that had been removed long ago; and there now appeared nothing among the branches that should make it worth while to climb up to them. The answer of the bee-hunter explained his purpose. He was merely ascending to have a lookout over the forest – which in that neighbourhood could not be obtained by any other means than by the climbing of a tapang.

It was fearful to watch the man ascending to such a dizzy height, and with such a flimsy, uncertain support beneath his feet. It reminded them of what they had seen at the Palombière of the Pyrenees.

The Dyak soon reached the top of the ladder; and for some ten minutes or more clung there – screwing his head around, and appearing to examine the forest on all sides. At length his head rested steadily upon his shoulders; and his gaze appeared to be fixed in one particular direction. He was too distant for the party at the bottom of the tree to note the expression upon his countenance; but his attitude told them that he had made some discovery.

Shortly after he came down; and reported this discovery in laconic phrase, simply saying: —

“Bruang– see him!”

The hunters knew that “bruang” was the Malayan name for bear; and the coincidence of this word with the sobriquet “Bruin” had already led them to indulge in the speculation, as to whether the latter might not have originally come from the East?

They did not stay to think of it then: for the guide, on regaining terra firma, at once started off – telling them to follow him.

After going rapidly about a quarter of a mile through the woods, the Dyak began to advance more cautiously – carefully examining each of the trunks of the tapangs that stood thinly scattered among the other trees.

At one of these he was seen to make an abrupt halt, at the same instant turning his face upward. The young hunters, who were close behind him, could see that there were scratches upon the soft succulent bark, as if caused by the claws of some animal; but, almost as soon as they had made the observation, their eyes were directed to the animal itself.

Away up on the tall tapang – just where its lowest limbs parted from the main stem – a black body could be distinguished. At such a distance it appeared not bigger than a squirrel; but, for all that, it was a Bornean bear; and the spot of vivid orange upon its breast could be seen shining like a coal of fire. Close by its snout a whitish mass appeared attached under the branches. This was the waxen domicile of the lanyeh bees; and a slight mist-like cloud, which hung over the place, was the swarm itself – no doubt engaged in angry conflict with the plunderer of their hive.

The little bear was too busy in the enjoyment of his luscious meal – that is, if the stings of the lanyehs allowed him to enjoy it – to look below; and for some minutes the hunters stood regarding him, without making a movement.

Satisfied with their inspection, they were at length preparing to fire at him; when they were hindered by the Dyak – who, making signs to them to be silent, drew them all back from the tree.

When out of sight of the bear, he counselled them to adopt a different plan. He said – what was true enough – that at such a height they might miss the bear; or, even if they should hit him, a bullet would scarce bring him down – unless it should strike him in a vital part. In the contingency of their missing, or only slightly wounding him, the animal would at once ascend further up into the tapang; and, hidden behind the leaves and branches, might defy them. He would there remain till hunger should force him down; and, since he was just in the act of having his meal, and had, no doubt, been eating from the time he was first espied – or longer, perhaps – he would be in a condition to stay in the tree, until their patience should be more than exhausted.

True, they might fell the tree: they had an axe, and could soon cut the tree down – as the wood was soft; but the Dyak alleged that the bruang in such cases usually contrives to escape. The tapang rarely falls all the way, but only upon the tops of the trees that stand thickly round; and as the Bornean bear can climb and cling like a monkey, he is never shaken out of the branches, but springs from them into some other tree – among the thick leaves of which he may conceal himself; or, by getting to the ground, manage to steal off.

His advice, therefore, was, that the hunters should conceal themselves behind the trunks of the surrounding trees; and, observing silence, wait till the bruang had finished his mellifluous repast, and feel inclined to come down. The Dyak said he would make his descent stern foremost; and, if they acted cautiously, they might have him at their mercy, and almost at the muzzles of their guns.

There was only one of the three who was not agreeable to this plan; and that was the impatient Ivan; but, overruled by the advice of his brother, he also gave his consent to it.

The three now took their respective stands behind three trees – that formed a sort of triangle around the tapang; and the guide, who had no gun, placed himself apart – holding his kris in readiness to finish off the bear, should the animal be only wounded.

There was no danger to be dreaded from the encounter. The little bear of Borneo is only dangerous to the bees and white ants – or other insects – which he is accustomed to lick up with his long tongue. The human hunter has nothing to fear from him, any more than from a timid deer – though he will scratch, and growl, and bite, if too closely approached.

It was just as the Dyak had predicted. The bruang, having finished his meal, was seen coming down the tree tail foremost; and in this way would no doubt have continued on to the ground; but, before he had got halfway down the trunk, Ivan’s impatience got the better of him; and the loud bang of his fowling-piece filled the forest with its echoes. Of course it was a bullet that Ivan had fired; and it appeared that he had missed. It was of little use firing also his shot barrel, though he did so immediately after.

The effect of his shots was to frighten the bruang back up the tree; and at the first report he commenced ascending. Almost as rapidly as a cat he swarmed upward; and for a moment the chances of losing him appeared as two to one. But Alexis, who had been watching the restless movements of his brother, had prepared himself for such an issue; and, waiting till the bruang made a pause just under the branches, he fired his rifle with deadlier aim. The bear, in clutching to one of the limbs, had extended his body outward, and this gave the rifleman the chance of aiming at his head. The bullet must have told: for the bear, instead of ascending higher, was seen hanging down from the limb, as if he was clinging to it with enfeebled strength.

At this moment the cannon-like report of Pouchskin’s fusil filled the woods with its booming echoes; and Bruin, suddenly relaxing his grasp, came bump down among the hunters – missing Pouchskin by about the eighth part of an inch! Lucky for the old grenadier there was even this much of a miss. It was as good as a mile to him. Had the bear’s body descended upon his shoulders, falling from such a height, it would have flattened him out as dead as the bear was himself; and Pouchskin, perceiving the danger from which he had so narrowly escaped, looked as perplexed and miserable as if some great misfortune had actually befallen him!

Chapter Fifty Eight.

The Cabbage-Eater

Our heroes now, having accomplished their mission to Borneo, were about to cross over to the island of Sumatra; in which – as well as in Java, or upon the mainland of Malacca – they would find the other sun-bear, known as the ursus malayanus; but previous to their departure from Sambos, they obtained information that led them to believe that this species also inhabited the island of Borneo. It was more rarely met with than the orange-breasted variety; but the natives, generally better guides than the anatomists in the matter of specific distinctions, stoutly maintained that there were two kinds; and the Dyak bee-hunter – whose interest had been secured by the ample reward already bestowed upon him – promised them, that if they would go with him to a certain district of country, he would show them the larger species of bruang. From the man’s description of it Alexis easily recognised the ursus malayanus– the species they had killed being the ursus euryspilus.

Indeed, had there been any doubt about this matter, it would have been set at rest, by what our travellers saw in the streets of Sambos. There both species were exhibited by the itinerant jugglers – for both the sun-bears can be easily tamed and trained – and these men stated that they had procured the “big bruang,” in the woods of Borneo.

Since, then, he was there to be found, why go to Sumatra in search of him? They had still travelling enough before them; and they were beginning to get tired of it. It was natural that – after so long an absence and the endurance of so many perils and hardships – they should be longing for home, and the comforts of that fine palace on the banks of the Neva.

They resolved, therefore, to accompany the Dyak guide on a new expedition.

They were a whole day upon the journey; and just before nightfall reached the place, where the man expected to fall in with the big bruangs. Of course, they could not commence their search before morning. They baited, therefore, and formed camp – their Dyak guide erecting a bamboo hut in less than an hour, and thatching it over with the huge leaves of the wild musaceae.

The place where they had halted was in the midst of a magnificent grove, or rather a forest, of palms; of that kind called nibong by the natives, which is a species of the genus arenga. It is one of the “cabbage” palms; that is, its young leaves before expanding are eaten by the natives as a vegetable after the manner in which Europeans use cabbage. They are of a delicate whiteness, with a sweet nutty flavour; and, in point of excellence, are even superior to those of the cocoa-nut, or even the West India cabbage palm (areca oleracea). But the nibong is put by the Borneans and other natives of the Indian Archipelago to a great variety of uses. Its round stem is employed as uprights and rafters for their houses. Split into lathes, it serves for the flooring. Sugar can be obtained from the saccharine juice of its spadix, which also ferments into an intoxicating beverage; and sago exists in abundance within the trunk. Pens and arrows for blow-guns are also made from the midribs of the side leaves; and, in fact, the arenga saccharifera, like many other palms, serves for an endless variety of purposes.

Alexis was greatly interested by the appearance of this beautiful tree; but it was too late when they arrived on the ground for him to have an opportunity of examining it. The half-hour before darkness had been occupied in the construction of the hut – in which all hands had borne part.

Early in the morning, Alexis – still curious about the arenga-trees – and desirous of ascertaining to what genus of palms they belonged – strayed off among them, in hopes of procuring a flower. The others remained by the hut, preparing breakfast.

Alexis saw none of the trees in flower, their great spathes being yet unfolded; but, toping to find some one more forward than the rest, he kept on for a considerable distance through the forest.

As he was walking leisurely along, his eyes at intervals turned upward to the fronds of the palms, he saw that one of the trunks directly in front of him was in motion. He stopped and listened. He heard a sound as of something in the act of being rent, just as if some one was plucking leaves from the trees. The sound proceeded from the one that was in motion; but it was only its trunk that he saw; and whatever was causing the noise and the movement appeared to be up among the great fronds at its crown.

Alexis regretted that he had left his gun behind him. He had no other weapon with him but his knife. Not that he was afraid: for the animal could not be an elephant in the top of a palm-tree, nor a rhinoceros; and these were the only quadrupeds that need be greatly dreaded in a Bornean forest: since the royal tiger, though common enough both in Java and Sumatra, is not an inhabitant of Borneo.

It was not fear that caused him to regret having left his gun behind him; but simply that he should lose the chance of shooting some animal – perhaps a rare one. That it was a large one he could tell by the movement of the tree: since no squirrel or small quadruped could have caused the stout trunk of the palm to vibrate in such a violent manner.

I need not say how the regret of the young hunter was increased, when he approached the tree, and looking up, saw what the animal really was – a bear, and that bear the true ursus malayanus! Yes, there was he, with his black body, yellowish muzzle, and white half-moon upon his breast – busy gorging himself upon the tender leaflets of the arenga – whose white fragments, constantly dropping from his jaws, strewed the ground at the bottom of the tree.

Alexis now remembered that this was a well-known habit of the Malayan bear – whose favourite food is the “cabbage” of palm-trees, and who often extends his depredations to the cocoa plantations, destroying hundreds of trees before he can be detected and destroyed himself. Of course this wild arenga wood – furnishing the bear with as much “cabbage” as he might require – was just the place for him; and Alexis now understood the reason why the Dyak had conducted them thither.

As the naturalist knew that this kind of bear was more rare than the other species – that is, in Borneo – he now more than ever felt chagrin at not having his gun with him. To attempt attacking the animal with his knife would have been absurd, as well as dangerous – for the Malayan bear can maintain a better fight than his Bornean brother.

But, indeed, even had Alexis desired it, there would have been no chance to reach the animal with his knife – unless the hunter should himself climb up the palm; and that was more than he either dared or could.

Of course the bear had long ere this perceived his enemy at the foot of the tree; and, uttering a series of low querulous cries, had desisted from his cabbage eating, and placed himself in an attitude of defence. It was evident from the position he had assumed, that he had no design of coming down, so long as the hunter remained at the bottom of the tree; nor did the latter desire him to do so. On the contrary, he struck the tree with a stick, and made several other demonstrations, with the design to hinder the bear from attempting a descent. But the animal did not even meditate such a thing. Though the palm was not one of the highest, it was tall enough to keep him out of the reach of any weapon the hunter could lay hands upon; and the bear, seemingly conscious of this fact, kept his perch with a confident air – that showed he had no intention of changing his secure position.

Alexis now began to reflect about what he should do. If he could make the others hear him, that would answer every purpose. Of course they would come up, bringing with them their guns. This was the most promising plan; and Alexis hastened to put it into execution, by hallooing at the top of his voice. But, after he had shouted for nearly ten minutes, and waited for ten more, no response was given; nor did any one make an appearance upon the ground.

Once more Alexis raised his voice, and shouted till the woods rang with echoes. But these echoes were all the reply he could get to his calls.

It was evident he had unconsciously strayed far from the camp, and quite out of earshot of his companions!

What was to be done? If he should go back to the others, to bring them and also his gun, the bear would in all probability seize the opportunity to descend from the tree and take himself off. In that case he would most certainly escape: since there would be no chance of tracking him through such a wood. On the other hand, Alexis need not remain where he was. He might stay there till doomsday, before Bruin would condescend to come down; and even should he do so, what chance would there be of effecting his capture?

While reflecting thus, a happy idea occurred to the young hunter; and he was seen all at once to step a pace or two back, and place himself behind the broad leaves of a wild pisang, where he was hidden from the eyes of the bear.

As the morning was a little raw he had his cloak around him; and this he instantly stripped off. He had already in his hands the stout long stick – with which he had been hammering upon the palm – and this he now sharpened at one end with his knife. On the other end he placed his cap, and beneath it his cloak, folding the latter around the stick, and tying it on in such a fashion as to make of it a rude representation of the human form.

When he had got the “dummy” rigged out to his satisfaction, he reached cautiously forward – still keeping the fronds of the pisang between himself and the bear. In this position, he held the “scarecrow” out at the full length of his arm; and, giving the stick a punch, set it erect in the ground. The bruang, from his elevated perch on the tree, could not fail to see the object – though the hunter himself was still concealed by the huge leaves that drooped over his head. Alexis, now cautiously, and without making the slightest noise, stole away from the spot. When he believed himself well out of hearing of the bear, he quickened his pace, and retraced his steps to the camp.

It was but the work of a minute for all hands to arm themselves and set out; and in ten minutes’ time they arrived at the bottom of the arenga, and had the gratification of finding that the ruse of Alexis had proved successful.

The bruang was still crouching upon the crown of the palm; but he did not stay there much longer, for a volley fired at his white breast toppled him over from his perch; and he fell to the bottom of the tree as dead as a stone.

The Dyak was rather chagrined that he had not himself discovered the game; but, on ascertaining that he would receive the promised bounty all the same, he soon got the better of his regrets.

Our hunters being on the ground, were determined to make a day of it; and after breakfast continued their hunt – which resulted in their finding and killing, not only another bruang, but a rimau dahan, or “clouded tiger” (felis macrocelus): the most beautiful of all feline animals, and whose skin they intended should be one of the trophies to be mounted in the museum of the palace Grodonoff.

This hunt ended their adventures in the Oriental Archipelago; and from Sambos they proceeded direct through the straits of Malacca, and up the Bay of Bengal to the great city of Calcutta.

Chapter Fifty Nine.

The Sloth Bear

En route for the grand mountains of Imaus – the stupendous chain of the Himalayas!

There our hunters expected to find no less than three species of bears – each distinct from the others in outline of form, in aspect, in certain habits, and even in habitat; for although all three exist in the Himalayas, each has its own zone of altitude, in which it ranges almost exclusively. These three bears are, the “sloth bear” (ursus labatus), the “Thibet bear” (ursus thibetanus), and the “snow bear” (ursus isabellinus).

The first-mentioned is the one which has received most notice – both from naturalists and travellers. It is that species which by certain wiseacres of the closet school was for a long time regarded as a sloth (bradypus). In redeeming it from this character, other systematists were not content to leave it where it really belongs – in the genus ursus– but must, forsooth, create a new one for its special accommodation; and it now figures in zoological catalogues as a prochilus– the prochilus labiatus! We shall reject this absurd title, and call it by its real one —ursus labiatus, which, literally translated, would mean the “lipped bear” – not a very specific appellation neither. The name has been given in reference to a peculiar characteristic of the animal – that is, its power of protruding or extending the lips to seize its food – in which peculiarity it resembles the tapir, giraffe, and some other animals. Its trivial name of “sloth bear” is more expressive: for certainly its peculiar aspect – caused by the long shaggy masses of hair which cover its neck and body – gives it a very striking resemblance to the sloth. Its long crescent-shaped claws strengthen this resemblance. A less distinctive name is that by which it is known to the French naturalists, “ours de jongleurs,” or “juggler’s bear.” Its grotesque appearance makes it a great favourite with the Indian mountebanks; but, as many other species are also trained to dancing and monkey-tricks, the name is not characteristic.

This bear is not quite so large as the ursus arctos; though individuals are sometimes met with approaching the bulk of the latter. The fur is longer and “shaggier” than in any other species – being upon the back of the neck full twelve inches in length. In this mass of long hair there is a curious line of separation running transversely across the back of the neck. The front division falls forward over the crown, so as to overhang the eyes – thus imparting to the physiognomy of the animal a heavy, stupid appearance. The other portion flaps back, forming a thick mane or hunch upon the shoulders. In old individuals the hair becomes greatly elongated; and hanging down almost to the ground on both flanks, and along the neck, imparts to the animal the strange appearance of being without legs!