THE OPEN WATER. she was beset with other enemies than the dogs. Hans's rifle had missed fire, and he was advancing with a native spear to a hand-to-hand encounter. Seeing him approach, the infuriated monster cleared away the dogs with a vigorous dash, and charged him. He threw his weapon and wheeled in flight. The bear bounded after him, and in an instant more neither speed nor dogs could have saved him. Fortunately, Sonntag and Jensen had by this time reloaded their rifles, and, with well-directed shots, they stopped her mad career. A ball, penetrating the spine at the base of the skull, rolled her over on the blood-stained snow.
The skins being removed, and a portion of the flesh of the young bear prepared for carrying home, the dogs were allowed to gorge themselves, and the party pitched their tent and camped. The next run brought them to the vessel.
The frost has nipped Jensen a little on the nose, and Hans is touched on the cheeks; but Sonntag has come off without a scratch. They have had a very hard journey. Every thing conspired against them; and if they did not reach their destination, they are none the less entitled to great credit for their persevering efforts, continued as they were against such odds.
The existence of this open water greatly puzzles me. No such phenomenon was witnessed in 1853-55 from Van Rensselaer Harbor. Whether it extends across the Sound, or how far to the north or south, I am unable to judge. It is probably merely local,—dependent upon the currents and winds.
November 7th.
The wind is blowing fiercely from the northeast,
