“We were sitting,” writes Lieutenant Payer, “fortunately silent in the cabin, when Koldewey suddenly heard a faint cry for help. We all hurriedly tumbled up the companion-ladder to the deck, when an exclamation from Borgen, ‘A bear is carrying me off!’ struck painfully on our ears. It was dark; we could scarcely see anything, but we made directly for the quarter whence the cry proceeded, armed with poles, weapons, etc., over hummocks and drifts, when an alarm-shot, which we fired in the air, seemed to make some little impression, as the bear dropped his prey, and ran forward a few paces. He turned again, however, dragging his victim over the broken shore-ice, close to a field which stretched in a southerly direction. All depended upon our coming up with him before he should reach this field, as he would carry his prey over the open plain with the speed of a horse, and thus escape. We succeeded. The bear turned upon us for a moment, and then, scared by our continuous fire, let fall his prey. We lifted our poor comrade up on to the ice, to bear him to his cabin,—a task which was rendered somewhat difficult by the slippery and uneven surface of the ice. But after we had gone a little way, Borgen implored us to make as much haste as possible. On procuring a light, the coldest nature would have been shocked at the spectacle which poor Borgen presented. The bear had torn his scalp in several places, and he had received injuries in other parts of his body. His clothes and hair were saturated with blood. We improvised a couch for him in the rear of our cabin, as his own was not large enough. The first operation was performed upon him on the cabin table. And here we may briefly notice the singular fact that, although he had been carried more than 100 paces with his skull almost laid bare, at a temperature of -13° Fahrenheit, his scalp healed so perfectly that not a single portion was missing.”