After having seen as much as we wanted of the walruses at close quarters, we went back, prepared a good meal from the newly slaughtered bear, and lay down to sleep. On the shore below the tent, the ivory-gulls were making a fearful hubbub. They had gathered in scores from all quarters, and could not agree as to the fair division of the bear's entrails; they fought incessantly, filling the air with their angry cries. It is one of nature's unaccountable freaks to have made this bird so pretty, while giving it such an ugly voice. At a little distance the burgomasters sat solemnly looking on and uttering their somewhat more melodious notes. Out in the sea the walruses were blowing and bellowing incessantly, but everything passed unheeded by the two weary warriors in the tent; they slept soundly, with the bare ground for their couch. In the middle of the night we were awakened, however, by a peculiar sound; it was just like some one whimpering and crying, and making great ado. I started up, and looked out of the peep-hole. Two bears were standing down beside our bear's flesh, a she-bear and her young one, and both sniffing at the bloody marks in the snow, while the she-bear wailed as if mourning for a dear departed one. I lost no time in seizing my gun, and was just putting it cautiously out, when the she-bear caught sight of me at the peep-hole, and off they both set, the mother in front, and the young one trotting after as fast as it could. I just let them run--we had really no use for them--and then we turned over and went to sleep again.