A BRUTE’S SACRIFICE.
This sudden and unexpected appearance of the wild beast caused Harry to
fire without taking the careful aim that he would have done had the case
been different; but he made sure that his rifle was pointed straight at
the brute, and that the discharged bullet would be certain to enter his
body.
And so it did, but missing the head, buried itself in the flesh
somewhere along the back, the result being another serious wound and the
maddening of the wild animal to such a degree that he became perfectly
frantic in his rage.
Forgetting his habitual cunning and treachery, he rose to his feet,
giving utterance to a savage growl, and with his head lowered, like a
bull when about to use his horns, he advanced directly upon the lad.
The latter had no time to reload, and reading the deadly intent of his
foe, he ran round to the opposite side of the fire, so as to interpose
it between them. The brute, still glaring and growling, trotted after
him.
It would not venture through the fire; but as it was more nimble of foot
than the lad, he could gain nothing by this course.
Still, as it seemed to be the only thing that he could do, Harry threw
down his gun and snatched up his blanket, and made a dash for liberty.
His hope lay in the belief that the brute was so badly injured that he
would soon become disabled, and that he would not venture as near the
blaze as did his intended victim.
Disappointed in both of these respects, Harry made a hasty grab and
caught up one of the burning embers of wood, which, as he walked
backward, he whirled about his head as a guard to keep the brute away.
This was a partial success, as all animals naturally have a terror of
fire, and the one in question fell back growling and glaring, as if
deliberating with himself as to the best method of circumventing this
obstacle.
He showed no disposition to give up his scheme, but continued stealing
forward inch by inch, as a cat is sometimes seen to do when about to
leap upon its prey. Harry halted, expecting, of course, it would do the
same. For a moment he thought it had, but, as he fixed his eyes upon it,
he observed that it was still advancing, almost imperceptibly, but none
the less surely, for all that.
“Confound him!” exclaimed Harry as he became conscious of this insidious
movement. “I never heard of such a creature; if he wants a taste of
fire, I’ll give it to him.”
The beast was now less than a dozen feet distant, when the boy took a
step toward him and then dashed the blazing brand full in his face,
muttering, as he did so:
“There! take that, if you want it.”
It was enough to daze and terrify any thing, and the brute, with a howl
such as he gave when struck by the first bullet, recoiled on himself,
reared on his hind-legs, and pawed madly as if to fight off the torch,
which had struck his black head, and then glanced off in the darkness.
This bewilderment lasted but a second or two, when it moved toward the
lad more determinedly than ever. The latter had made a snatch at a
brand, but in his hurry it had slipped from his hand after he had risen
to his feet, and retreated a step or two.
Before he could recover it, the brute was not only nearer to him than
that, but had actually interposed between him and the fire!
Thus in a twinkling, as it were, the lad found that he had been totally
disarmed—not only deprived of the use of his gun, through the denial of
opportunity to reload it, but he was shut off from his _dernier
resort_—the chance of using the fire to fight off the determined advance
of his enemy.
Harry had now his blanket thrown over his left arm, and his
hunting-knife at his waist; but he knew that if he was forced to a
hand-to-hand fight with the furious beast, he would be torn to shreds
before he could do any execution with his weapon. His case looked
exceedingly desperate, for the snarling animal having intruded himself
between him and the fire, was too knowing to permit him to recover his
place again.
It was useless to attempt to flee, and Harry Northend stood his ground,
looking down with a fascinated gaze upon the horrid-looking brute, as
creeping along for a foot or two more, it began gathering its paws
beneath its body, to make its leap.
With a courage born almost of despair, he saw all this and never
stirred, standing like the bird that is charmed by the rattlesnake, that
knows it sees certain death, but has neither the power nor the will to
escape.
But it was not entirely thus with the lad. He possessed rare courage and
pluck, and had decided his own course of action. It was a desperate
resort, but it was all that remained to him, and he held his nerves with
a will of iron until the critical moment was upon him.
It came with the next breath. There was a sudden quickening of the legs
as they were gathered beneath the belly of the animal, and then it made
its fearful leap.
For one instant the dark, panther-shaped body was visible in the air,
and then, as Harry saw it descending upon him, he gave the blanket a
flirt so as to throw it directly over the head of the snarling beast,
leaping aside at the same instant, and making another attempt to recover
his position by the fire.
He succeeded in doing this, although he fell upon his hands and knees,
and before he could scramble to his feet again, the brute had pawed the
blanket from his eyes, and glancing around for an instant, discovered
where his slippery victim was.
There can be but little doubt of the ultimate result of this strange
contest, for every advantage was upon the side of the beast, which gave
no evidence of suffering the least exhaustion from the wounds it had
received.
But at this critical juncture a third party appeared upon the scene, not
in the shape of Old Ruff or an Indian, but in that of another wild
brute.
As Harry rose to his feet, torch in hand, and stood confronting his
enemy, he heard a growl from his right hand, and concluded that it was
all over with him beyond a question, if he was to be called upon to
combat two such enemies.
The wounded animal heard the ominous sound, and also turned his head,
sending back a defiant growl, as if to warn all outside parties that
there was to be no interference here.
The thunderous growl was still rumbling in the throat of the brute when
Harry saw a huge dark body pass like an arrow through the air, coming
down from the rock over his head, and speeding as straight and truly as
if fired from the mouth of a giant columbiad, directly at the defiant
beast, which was not given time to prepare for the charge.
The attacking brute landed directly upon the shoulder of the other, and
at the same instant the two closed in a deadly, fearful encounter.
With the quickness of lightning the fight assumed the fiercest
character, the two wild beasts going at each other with the
determination to do or die. Snarling, growling, clawing, scratching,
gouging, biting, snapping, tearing and rending, they rolled over and
over upon the ground, the hair flying in every direction.
Harry Northend stood transfixed, for the time, by the terrible scene
before him. The fight was of that furious nature which showed that it
would never terminate until one or both were dead, and that the
consummation was sure to take place very speedily.
And reflecting that whichever party was the victor would be certain to
turn upon him, the young hunter was too prudent to throw away the
opportunity thus providentially placed in his hands, and he hurriedly
caught up his rifle and began reloading it, with the intention of taking
a position from which he could watch the fight, and when it should
terminate, could lodge a bullet in the brain of the victor and leave
himself master of the situation.
The act of loading his weapon naturally drew away his attention from the
combatants for the time; but when he had placed the percussion upon the
tube, he turned his gaze upon the struggling beasts again.
Just then they rolled closer to the fire than they were before, and were
consequently brought into closer view, and as the lad withdrew from
beyond their reach, and looked down upon them, he saw, with feelings
that may be imagined, that the one making the attack was his old friend
and acquaintance, “Speckled Beauty.”
One look at his hide, now crimsoned with a deeper dye than the art of
the showman could give it, showed this, and the whilom resentment that
he had felt for the mishap caused by him, was now turned to gratitude
and admiration for the part he was playing in his defense.
“Fight away, my friend!” he exclaimed. “Neither Old Ruff nor I shall
ever say or think ill of you again, for you meant well, and but for your
coming now, I should have been in your place. Good luck to you, and I
will give you what help I can.”
His purpose now was to lodge another bullet in the other beast in such a
way as to “lay him out,” and leave Speckled Beauty the master, for it
looked as if he had undertaken a job which he was unable to carry
through, his foe showing not only the greatest tenacity of life, but
also displaying a strength and activity almost incredible.
The mottled bear possessed enormous strength, but in quickness of
movement he was far inferior to his foe, whose long, sharp claws, were
tearing and pounding at his vitals with blows like the piston-rod of a
steam engine; but the Beauty was game, and he stuck to his antagonist to
the last, never intending to give up the fight so long as the strength
remained to continue it.
Harry held his rifle cocked for several minutes, waiting and unable to
get the chance to fire; for the two rolled over so rapidly—first one
under and then on top again, that he was fearful he might wound his
friend instead of his enemy.
Leaping back and forth around the two dark bodies, now upon one side and
then upon the other, and once or twice narrowly escaping being thrown
beneath them, with the blood and hair flying all over his clothes—Harry
at last saw his chance.
There was a momentary lull in the fight, the bear was under, and the
head of the other was in full view. Quick as thought the muzzle of the
rifle was thrust into his ear, and the trigger pulled.
The shot told, and the bullet went crashing and tearing through the
skull and brain of the beast, who lay motionless for a moment, and then
with a spasmodic quiver rolled over upon the ground without a spark of
life in his body.
“My poor, brave friend,” said Harry, bending over the grizzly bear, “you
have done me a service for which I can never pay you.”
He stooped lower and looked more closely at him. The animal never
stirred. A groan of anguish escaped him, and it was his last. Speckled
Beauty was as dead as his foe!