d--stole
silently along the trail. The fresh-fallen snow, still soft as
eider-down, enabled them to proceed without making the slightest noise;
and without making any, they crept up, till within half-a-dozen paces of
the tree.

Ivan's conjecture was likely to prove correct. There was a line of
tracks leading up the bank; and around the orifice of the cavity the
snow was considerably trampled down--as if the bear had turned himself
two or three times before entering. That he had entered, the hunters
did not entertain a doubt: there were no return tracks visible in the
snow--only the single line that led up to the mouth of the cave, and
this seemed to prove conclusively that Bruin was "at home."

CHAPTER NINE.

HYBERNATION OF BEARS.

As already stated, it is the custom of the brown bear, as well as of
several other species, to go to sleep for a period of several months
every winter,--in other words, to _hybernate_. When about to take this
long nap, the bear seeks for himself a cave or den, in which he makes
his bed with such soft substances as may be most convenient--dry leaves,
grass, moss, or rushes. He collects no great store of these however--
his thick matted fur serving him alike for bed and coverlet; and very
often he makes no further ado about the matter than to creep into the
hole he has chosen, lie down, snugly couch his head among the thickets
of long hair that cover his hams, and thus go to sleep.

Some naturalists have asserted that this sleep is a state of torpidity--
from which the animal is incapable of awaking himself or of being
awakened, until the regular period of indulgence in it may have passed.
This, however, is not the case; for bears are often surprised in their
sleep, and when aroused by the hunters act just as is usual with them at
other times.

It must be observed, however, that the retirement of the bear into
winter quarters is not to be regarded as of the same nature as the
hybernation of marmots, squirrels, and other species of rodent animals.
These creatures merely shut themselves up from the cold; and to meet the
exigencies of their voluntary imprisonment, they have already collected
in their cells a large store of their usual food. Bees and many other
insects do precisely same thing. Not so with the bear. Whether it be
that he is not gifted with an instinct of providence it is difficult to
say; but certain it is, that he lays up no store for these long dark
days, but g