"Thousand devils!" said he, "you could wring me like a rag. This
abominable hut is a sponge--a mere reservoir of water."
"Oh, well, it is all part of the fun," said I, turning the water out of
my boots, and proceeding to toast my socks by the fire on the thorns of
a twig. "Suppose we sing a song. What shall it be?--'The meeting of the
waters'?"
I had intended a mild joke, but the Teuton relapsed into grim silence.
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.
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