A STRANGE BEAR HUNT
"LISTEN!" said Bob, his lips placed as close to the ear of his brother
as he could possibly get them.
"I hear him! He is over there, just where you said," replied the
younger hunter, the words being whispered so low that they could not
have been detected six feet away.
"Get ready then--have your gun up, so he won't see the movement. 'Sh!"
Bob said this because he knew that, with that bright moonlight flooding
the opening, there must always be a chance that its rays would glint
from the metal barrel of a moving musket. And even such a little thing
as this might serve to startle a suspicious bear into making a sudden
retreat.
The sounds now became more pronounced than before. Some heavy body was
undoubtedly pushing through the underbrush, and in such haste as to be
utterly unmindful of what noise was produced.
Of course nothing but a clumsy bear could be guilty of such an advance,
caution being thrown to the four winds because of that tantalizing odor
of honey in the heavy night air,--an odor which was making Bruin fairly
wild with eagerness to be at the anticipated feast.
A panther would have crept slily forward, so that not even the rustle
of a leaf might betray its presence, and even a buffalo would have
advanced with a certain amount of caution; but a bear depends on its
sense of smell to give warning of danger, and seldom moves with any
degree of care.
Presently Sandy could hear him sniffling at a great rate as he pushed
closer. The animal evidently could not understand why there should be
such a pronounced odor of honey in the air. Many times had he come
to this same spot in the hope of being able to bag some of the bees'
store; but always to meet disappointment. But now there must be a great
change in the arrangement of things.
Somewhere amid the foliage covering the bushes across the glade the
big beast must have stopped, to look in surprise at the fallen bee
tree. Perhaps he suspected a trap of some kind, knowing that his mortal
enemy, man, had been there lately. But that distracting smell drowned
all his caution. Unable to hold out against it any longer, the bear
suddenly lumbered forward.
Sandy saw him coming, but held his fire. In the first place the bear
was head on, and he wanted to get a chance at the animal's flank, so
that he might make sure to plant his bullet back of the shoulder,
where he could reach the heart, and so bring his game down with that
one shot. Then again, it chanced that there was something of a shadow,
which served to partly hide the beast as he advanced.
Straight into the midst of the broken honeycombs did Bruin hasten,
grunting in evident delight as he commenced to lick up the spilled
sweet fluid, so dear to the heart of every bear.
Sandy managed to repress his excitement to a great extent. He had been
hunting so often, boy though he was, that he no longer experienced the
same intense thrill that would have almost overwhelmed him a couple of
years ago, had he been thrown into such a position as this.
Slowly his cheek dropped down until it rested against the butt of his
faithful old musket. Well did he know that the priming was in the
pan, and that, when the flint struck the steel sharply, the spark
would communicate to the charge, with the result that the bear must be
considerably astonished.
Unfortunately, however, Sandy could not see in that deceptive moonlight
that a fair-sized twig happened to be just between the muzzle of his
gun and the object at which he aimed. Had it been daytime he would have
detected this fact, and avoided taking the chances of his bullet being
slightly deflected in its swift passage.
The report of the gun was deafening. With his usual impulsiveness Sandy
instantly leaped to his feet, giving a boyish shout as he saw the bear
kicking on the ground, in the midst of the branches of the fallen tree.
Then, to his utter astonishment, and not a little to his chagrin as
well, the dark, rolling object seemed to scramble once more to its four
feet, and, attracted by his movements, immediately started to advance
directly toward him, growling in the fiercest possible way.
It could no longer be said that Bruin was making a clumsy and slow
advance, for, inspired by a sudden rage toward the object from which
his painful wound had evidently sprang, the animal was rushing
furiously forward.
Bob fired in the hope of checking this advance, that promised to upset
all of their fine plans; but just then Sandy, in jumping back, chanced
to jostle his brother, so that, even if the second bullet struck the
bear at all, it certainly did no great damage. At least his swift if
lumbering advance was not materially checked.
"Run, Sandy!" shouted Bob, as he realized that they were now facing an
infuriated and wounded beast, with only their hatchets and knives to
use in defence of their lives.
Sandy was not slow to take the advice thus given. He sprang away in
one direction, while Bob took the other. Just why the bear should
have picked out Sandy to follow, neither of the brothers could ever
say, though they really believed the old fellow was keen enough to
understand which of the fleeing lads had sent that first stinging
pellet that bored under his skin, and made him so uncomfortable.
Bob was dismayed when he found that the animal had ignored him, and was
chasing Sandy. With his usual generous way of taking burdens on his
shoulders, Bob had really hoped to attract the bear; indeed, with this
idea in view, he had even made more noise than was necessary, as he
floundered along through the bushes.
When, however, he found that he had not been followed, he immediately
changed his tactics. From running away he now started to follow after
the bear, and, as he thus pushed through the woods, the boy tried
to reload his musket, always a difficult task in those days of the
primitive powder-horn, when the charge had to be measured out into
the palm, poured into the long barrel, and the bullet in its patch of
greased cloth pushed down with the ramrod; after which the priming had
to be adjusted.
Bob was not making any particularly good headway in reloading, since he
could not stay his hurrying steps long enough to do the right thing.
From the noise ahead he judged that Sandy must have succeeded in
drawing himself up into the friendly branches of a tree, and that the
furious bear was following close on his heels.
At least this would give the fugitive a little time, and perhaps,
meanwhile, he, Bob, could come on the scene with his gun, ready to take
a hand in the game.
"Hi! Bob, this way!" Sandy was shouting, at the top of his voice, as
though his situation was rapidly becoming desperate.
"All right!" answered the one who was pushing along through the brush
as best he could. "I'm coming, Sandy! Hold on a little longer!"
A minute or so later he found himself on the scene. Just as he had
guessed, Sandy, being hotly pursued, and fearing lest he be overtaken
by the angry beast, had on the spur of the moment clambered hastily
into the branches of a tree. It was the result of sudden impulse, for
surely the boy knew that an American black bear is always at home
wherever he can dig his sharp claws into the bark of a tree.
Perhaps Sandy would never fully realize how he came to escape the
animal's last rush; but it must have been almost by a miracle.
Once among the branches, the boy did not stop an instant. The bear
immediately showed an inclination to follow him aloft, and Sandy hardly
cared to try conclusions with Bruin in his present winded condition,
and with only his hatchet to depend on.
So he had hastily climbed upward. Looking down, he had been dismayed to
see that the bear was making quick progress after him. He could hardly
go to the top of the tree, and, as a possibility leaped into his mind,
the boy started out on a large limb that was some twenty feet or so
above the ground.
[Illustration: "THE BEAR ALL THE WHILE KEPT ON CREEPING OUT CLOSER AND
CLOSER"]
Bruin did not hesitate a moment when he reached this limb, but started
out after the young hunter. It was at that moment Sandy had sent out
his appeal for help. He realized that he was in a bad fix, since the
bear would either follow until he could reach his intended victim with
his sharp claws; or else the combined weight of the two must break the
limb, sending both to the ground.
Bob, having arrived under the tree, was making desperate efforts to
finish loading his gun, so that he might bring the little drama to
a close. But the bear all the while kept on creeping out closer and
closer, balancing his bulk with wonderful skill upon the limb.
Sandy was impulsive in his ways; at the same time that bright mind of
his was apt to originate many a clever ruse on the spur of the moment,
and when desperation pushed.
Bob, keeping one eye anxiously turned upward while he pushed the
bullet hastily into the chamber of his gun, saw his brother suddenly
back still further away, so that the limb began to bend downward
with his weight. The bear halted, as if loath to make any further
forward move, and watching to see what his human adversary might be
contemplating.
Suddenly Sandy let go his hold of the outer branches. He had seen that
he might break his fall by passing through the foliage just below, and
was willing to accept the chances of receiving sundry scratches in
consequence.
Bob fairly held his breath as he saw this bold action on the part of
his brother. The bear crouched closer to the limb above, as though
declining to be shaken from his hold. But, when the danger of this had
passed, the beast started to back to the trunk of the tree, intent on
reaching the ground again as speedily as possible.
Sandy had come through the lower foliage with a great scramble, very
much after the manner of a floundering wildcat that had been shot while
perched in a tree.
Bob waited only long enough to assure himself that his brother had
reached the ground, even in a sadly dishevelled condition. Then he
began to add the necessary priming to his gun, for Bruin was already
starting to descend to renew hostilities.
Taking several steps forward, Bob arrived at the base of the big beech
with its wide-spreading branches. It was evidently his intention to
wait for the coming of the bear, and give him a warm reception.
Bruin, in his ignorance of such things as explosives, since his only
adventures up to now had probably been with the arrows of the red men,
gave little heed to this suggestive action on the part of the young
hunter. He kept backing down with all possible haste, anxious to avenge
his injuries upon these human foes.
But, after all, Bob found himself mistaken when he supposed that it was
up to him to end the big beast. While the bear was still at least ten
feet above him, the musket was suddenly taken forcibly from his hands.
"You promised me, Bob, please remember!" cried Sandy.
With his face bleeding from the scratches he had received in his fall,
Sandy must certainly have presented a strange appearance just then; but
the spirit of the hunter rose superior to any and all discomforts. That
bear was his by rights, and he did not mean to be cheated out of his
triumph.
Down came Bruin, looking over his shoulder as he dropped, and probably
measuring the capacity of these two foes. But he failed to figure
on the terrible power that lay in the odd looking stick one of them
pointed up at him.
There was a sudden flash, a stunning report, for Bob in his nervousness
had overcharged his gun, and while Sandy fell back with a bruised
shoulder, the bear dropped like a stone at the foot of the tree. Sandy
had clapped the muzzle of the musket close to the animal's ear when
pulling the trigger, so that the result was never in doubt.
"Whew!" he exclaimed, as he scrambled to his feet, still clutching
Bob's gun. "Did you empty your powder-horn in that charge, Bob? I'll be
black and blue for a month after that recoil. But I got him, didn't I?
He'll never have a chance to chase a fellow up a tree again. And, Bob,
we're going to have that bear steak all right to-morrow, I reckon."
Which they did, sure enough, though, as Bruin was no youngster, it
probably required pretty sharp teeth to enjoy the meal.