a sniff or two, he still kept to his bed.

What was to be done? Must they retire, and wait patiently till the
calls of hunger should urge him forth? The day was piercingly cold, and
to remain there long would have been unpleasant enough. They might,
indeed, have to stay by the cave all day and all night too: for the
enclosure had been only slightly put up--merely to check the bear for a
few minutes--and if they were to leave him all night to himself, he
could easily tear down the stakes and get off.

They could not think of deserting the spot for an instant; but to avoid
a long vigil they set about considering some plan by which Bruin might
be induced to come forth from his inaccessible retreat.

A thought occurred to Ivan, who was a quick conceiver--a plan which
promised well--and that was to make a "spitting-devil," and send it up
into the cave. It appeared a good idea--at all events, it would not be
difficult to give it a trial. Gunpowder was not scarce with them--since
Russian roubles were plenty; and Pouchskin, pouring out nearly a quarter
of a pound into the palm of his broad hand, commenced spitting upon it
and working the powder into a paste. Ivan, who directed this operation,
was determined his plan should not fail by any stinginess in regard to
the materials required for carrying it out.

After a short space of time the plastic fingers of Pouchskin had
elaborated the powder paste into a roll as large as a regalia cigar; and
this being dried slightly near a fire--which they had long before
kindled--was ready for the touch. To the old grenadier was intrusted
the management of the miniature rocket; and, while the young hunters
once more stood to their guns, he proceeded to carry out the design.

Having thrust his head through the hole intended for the bear, and his
arm through another which he had made for himself, he held the "devil"
at arm's length between his finger and thumb. The Quan now took a
blazing faggot from the fire, and passing it between the wattles,
ignited the _fuse_ which the old grenadier had ingeniously placed in the
"devil's" tail.

As soon as Pouchskin perceived that it was fairly on fire, with an
adroit jerk he sent the little rocket up into the cave, as far as he
could throw it; and then jerking himself backward, he seized hold of his
axe.

There was a moment of suspense; not long: for almost on the instant a
brilliant light shone within the cave, accompanied with a sputterin