lade that makes
these contrivances so deadly.

On the way to the hunting grounds Vacille pointed out to us a cliff
where he once had an exciting bear hunt.

There were two hunters, and they were fortunate enough to locate an
inhabited den in early spring. Two bears were killed through crevices in
the rocks, but the men suspected there was still one inside, and Vacille
crawled in to make sure. He found himself in a fair sized chamber with
a bear at the other end, and a lucky shot tumbled the animal at his
feet.

This story brought up others of bear hunting with the lance. Before
firearms came into common use, boys were given lessons in fighting the
bear with the lance, and became very expert at it. Their method was to
approach a bear as closely as possible, without being seen, then show
themselves suddenly, and as the bear reared strike home. The lance was
held fast by the native, and the bear was often mortally wounded by
forcing the lance into himself in his struggles to reach his enemy.

This class of native no longer exists on Kadiak, but it is said there is
one famous old Aleut near Iliamna Lake on the mainland who scorns any
but this method of hunting.

High above the den where the three bears were killed was a scoop out of
the cliff called the shaman's barabara. Here, before Russian times, the
shamans or witches were buried, and here also were kept the masks used
in certain ceremonial rites. The Russians removed the mummies and masks
long ago.

The shamans were considered oracles. It was claimed they could prevent a
whale from swimming out of a bay by dragging a bag of fat, extracted
from the dead body of a newly born infant, across the entrance. Their
instructions were unfailingly obeyed, as it was supposed they could
cause death as a punishment for their enemies.

One evening at our first halting place beyond Ozinka, we found tracks in
the snow on one side of our valley, and early in the morning came upon a
two-year-old bear, not far from camp. The bear was grubbing about on the
hillside, and we took our position so that he crossed us under a hundred
yards. Unbeknown to me, and just as I was about to fire, my native gave
the caw of a raven to hold the bear up. He whipped around and faced us,
my bullet entering the brush on one side of him. Off he rushed into the
woods with the dog after him. I followed, and on coming out into a
clearing saw the dog being left far behind on the mountain side. Old
Tchort