Returning to the gold mine, he related what had happened; but it was then too late to despatch a party in search of the unfortunate hunter. At daylight next morning, however, they set out, with the craven as guide. On arriving at the scene of the affray, no remains of the victim could be found but some torn clothing and his rifle; and the trampled grass showed that he had been carried off into the thick covert. The trail was pursued with the utmost diligence, and at length, under a heap of branches, in a dense thicket of trees and bushes, the hunter’s body was discovered, and, strange to say, though grievously mutilated, it still throbbed with life. With tender care the miserable victim was conveyed to the gold mine and taken to the hospital, where he was treated with the utmost kindness, and all was done that medical skill could do. For a long time he remained unconscious; but at the end of two months a slight improvement was noticeable, and he recovered his reason. His first question was about the bear; his next, about his own defeat. In truth, his conversation turned only upon these subjects: he seemed possessed by a monomania; was continually asking for his rifle, that he might go and kill “Michael Ivanitch” (the bear). As his strength returned, it was thought necessary to place him under restraint, lest his desire to contend with his fierce and powerful enemy should lead him into some dangerous enterprise. But when autumn arrived, and laid its magical finger on the forest, the monomaniac seemed to have forgotten his hate, so that he was watched with less rigour. He took advantage of his comparative freedom to steal from the hospital, gain his own cottage, and, in the absence of his family, arm himself with his rifle and axe, and stow away in his wallet a loaf of black bread. Then, as the shades of evening began to fall, he started for the forest, and soon disappeared in the gathering gloom. As soon as his absence from the hospital was known, a close search for him was instituted; but in vain. A week passed by, and it was supposed that he had perished, when one day he strode into the hospital, carrying on his shoulders the skin of a huge black bear. Throwing it down, he exclaimed, “I told you I would have him.” Thenceforward he rapidly recovered; both his physical and mental health were re-established, and he lived to bring down many another “Michael Ivanitch” with his deadly rifle. * * * * * A curious incident befell a Cossack officer in the woods of Barnaoul.