Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - The Great Bear of Gurlita Cliff
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at full cock, waiting for Gösta’s shot, now discharged
them after him.
But in vain. The ring was broken and the bear
was gone. Fuchs scolded, Beerencreutz swore, but
Gösta only laughed. How could they expect a man
as happy as he was to kill any of God’s children?
The great bear of Gurlita Cliff escaped with his
life from the fray, but he had been thoroughly
awakened from his winter sleep, as the peasants soon
had cause to know. There was no bear who could
tear open the low, cellar-like roofs of their
sheep-folds so easily; none could so cunningly avoid a
carefully arranged ambush.
The people on the Upper Löfven were soon in
despair what to do about it. They sent again and
again to the cavaliers, begging them to come and
shoot him.
And day after day and night after night, during
all the month of February, the cavaliers made their
way to the Upper Löfven in search of the bear, but
he always escaped them. Had he learned cunning
from the fox and sharpness from the wolves? While
they were guarding one farmyard, he was laying
the neighboring yard waste; while they searched for
him in the forest, he was giving chase to a peasant
driving over the ice. He had become the most
audacious of marauders; he crept into the garret and
emptied the goodwife’s honey-pot, and killed the
horse standing harnessed to her husband’s sledge.
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