LIFE IN CAMP
One of the results of Kahwa's disappearance was to make me much more
solitary than I had ever been before, not merely because I did not have
her to play with, but now, for the first time, I took to wandering on
excursions by myself. And these excursions all had one object:--to find
Kahwa.
For some days after her capture we waited about the outskirts of the
town nearly all night long; but on the third or fourth morning father
made up his mind that it was useless, and, though mother persuaded him
not to abandon the search for another night or two, he insisted after
that on giving up and returning to the neighbourhood where we had been
living since the fire. So we turned our backs upon the town, and, for
my part very reluctantly, went home.
The moon was not yet much past the full, and I can remember now how the
berry-patch looked that night as we passed it, lying white and shining
in the moonlight. We saw no other bears at it, and did not stop, but
kept under the trees round the edges, and went on to our favourite
resting-place, where, a few hundred yards from the river, a couple of
huge trees had at some time been blown down. Round their great trunks
as they lay on the ground, young trees and a mass of elder-bushes and
other brushwood had sprung up, making a dense thicket. The two logs lay
side by side, and in between them, with the tangle of bushes all round
and the branches of the other trees overhead, there was a complete and
impenetrable shelter.
We had used this place so much that a regular path was worn to it
through the bushes. This night as we came near we saw recent prints
of a bear's feet on the path, and the bear that made them was
evidently a big one. From the way father growled when he saw them, I
think he guessed at once whose feet they were. I know that I had my
suspicions--suspicions which soon proved to be correct.
During our absence our enemy, the surly bear that I have spoken of,
had taken it into his head that he would occupy our home. Of course he
had lived in this district much longer than we, and, had this been
his home when we first came, we should never have thought of disputing
possession with him. But it had been our home now, so far as we had
any regular home at this time of year, ever since our arrival after
the fire, while he had lived half a mile away. Now, however, there he
was, standing obstinately in the pathway, swinging his head from side
to side, and evidently intending to fight rather than go away. We all
stopped, my father in front, my mother next, and I behind. I have said
that the stranger was bigger than my father, and in an ordinary meeting
in the forest I do not think my father would have attempted to stand up
to him; but this was different. It was our home, and we all felt that
he had no right there, but that, on the contrary, he was behaving as he
was out of pure bad temper and a desire to bully us and make himself
unpleasant. Moreover, the events of the last few days had rendered my
father and mother irritable, and they were in no mood to be polite to
anybody.
Usually it takes a long time to make two bears fight. We begin slowly,
growling and walking sideways towards each other, and only getting
nearer inch by inch. But on this occasion there was not much room in
the path, and father was thoroughly exasperated. He hardly waited at
all, but just stood sniffling with his nose up for a minute to see if
the other showed any sign of going away, and then, without further
warning, threw himself at him. I had never seen my father in a real
fight, and now he was simply splendid. Before the stranger had time to
realize what was happening, he was flung back on his haunches, and in
a moment they were rolling over and over in one mass in the bushes. At
first it was impossible to see what was going on, but, in spite of the
ferocity of my father's rush, it soon became evident that in the end
the bigger bear must win. My father's face was buried in the other's
left shoulder, and he had evidently got a good grip there; but he was
almost on his back, for the stranger had worked himself uppermost, and
we could see that he was trying to get his teeth round my father's fore
leg. Had he once got hold, nothing could have saved the leg, bone and
all, from being crushed to pieces, and father, if not killed, would
certainly have been beaten, and probably crippled for life. And sooner
or later it seemed certain that the stranger would get his hold.
Then it was that my mother interfered. Hurling herself at him, she
threw her whole weight into one swinging blow on the side of the big
bear's head, and in another second had plunged her teeth into the back
of his neck. My father's grip in the fleshy part of the shoulder,
however painful it might be, had little real effect; but where my
mother had attacked, behind the right ear, was a different matter. The
stranger was obliged to leave my father's leg alone and to turn and
defend himself against this new onslaught; but, big as he was, he now
had more on his hands than he could manage. As soon as he turned his
attention to my mother, my father let go of his shoulder, and in his
turn tried to grip the other's fore-leg. There was nothing for the
stranger to do now but to get out of it as fast as he could; and even
I could not help admiring his strength as he lifted himself up and
shook mother off as lightly as she would have shaken me. She escaped
the wicked blow that he aimed at her, and dodged out of his reach,
and my father, letting go his hold of the fore-leg, did the same. The
stranger, with one on either side of him, backed himself against one of
the fallen logs and waited for them to attack him. But that they had no
wish to do. All that they wanted was that he should go away, and they
told him so. They moved aside from the path on either hand to give him
space to go, and slowly and surlily he began to move.
I was still standing in the pathway. Suddenly he made a movement
as if to rush at me, but my father and mother jumped towards him
simultaneously, while I plunged into the bushes, and he was compelled
to turn and defend himself against my parents again. But they did not
attack him, though they followed him slowly along the path. Every step
or two he stopped to make an ugly start back at one or the other, but
he knew that he was overmatched, and yard by yard he made off, my
father and mother following him as far as the edge of the thicket, and
standing to watch him out of sight. And I was glad when he was safely
gone and they came back to me.
It was not a pleasant home-coming, and we were all restless and nervous
for days afterwards; and then it was that I vowed to myself that, if I
ever grew up and the opportunity came, I would wreak vengeance on that
bear.
If we were all nervous, I was the worst, and in my restlessness took
to going off by myself. Up to this time I do not think I had ever been
a hundred yards away from one or other of my parents, and now, when
I started out alone, it was always in horrible fear of meeting the
big bear when there was no one to stand by me. Gradually, however, I
acquired confidence in myself, making each night a longer trip alone,
and each night going in the direction of the town. At last, one night,
I found myself at the edge of the town itself, and now when I was
alone I did not stop at the first building that I came to, but very
cautiously--for the man-smell was thick around me, and terrified me in
spite of myself--very cautiously I began to thread my way in between
the buildings.[3] As I snuffed round each building, I found all sorts
of new things to eat, with strange tastes, but most of them were good.
That the men were not all asleep was plain from the shouts and noises
which reached me at times from the centre of the big town, where, as
I could see by occasional glimpses which I caught through the nearer
buildings, many of the houses had bright lights streaming from them
all night. Avoiding these, I wandered on, picking up things to eat, and
all the while keeping ears and nose open for a sign of Kahwa.
I stayed thus, moving in and out among the buildings, till dawn. Once a
dog inside a house barked furiously as I came near, and I heard a man's
voice speaking to it, and I hurried on. As the sky began to lighten, I
made my way out into the woods again, and rejoined my father and mother
before the sun was up. When I joined them, my father growled at me
because I smelled of man.
The next night found me down in the town again. I began to know my way
about. I learned which houses contained dogs, and avoided them. Other
animals besides myself, I discovered, came into the town at night
for the sake of the food which they found lying about--coyotes and
wood-rats, and polecats; but though bears would occasionally visit the
buildings nearest to the woods, no other penetrated into the heart of
the town as I did. It had a curious fascination for me, and gradually I
grew so much at home, that even when a man came through the buildings
towards me, I only slipped out of his way round a corner, and--for
man's sight and smell are both miserably bad compared with ours--he
never had a suspicion that I was near.
On the third or fourth night I had gone nearer to the lighted buildings
than I had ever been before, when I heard a sound that made me stop
dead and throw myself up on my haunches to listen. Yes, there could be
no doubt of it! It was Kahwa's voice. Anyone who did not know her might
have thought that she was angry, but I knew better. She was making
exactly the noise that she used to make when romping with me, and I
knew that she was not angry, but only pretending, and that she must be
playing with someone. I suppose I ought to have been glad that she was
alive and happy enough to be able to play, but it only enraged me and
made me wonder who her playmates might be. Then gradually the truth,
the incredible truth, dawned upon me. Truly incredible it seemed at
first, but there could be no doubt of it. _She was playing with man._
I could hear men's voices speaking to her as if in anger, and then I
heard her voice and theirs in turn again, and at last I recognised that
their anger was no more real than hers. The sounds came from where the
lights were brightest, and it was long before I could make up my mind
to go near enough to be able to see. At last, however, I crept to a
place from which I could look out between two buildings, keeping in the
deep shade myself, and I can see now every detail of what met my eyes
as plainly as if it was all before me at this minute.
There was a building larger than those around it, with a big door wide
open, and from the door and from the windows on either side poured
streams of light out into the night. In the middle of the light, and
almost in front of the door, was a group of five or six men, and in
the centre of the group was Kahwa, tied to a post by a chain which was
fastened to a collar round her neck. I saw a man stoop down and hold
something out to her--presumably something to eat--and then, as she
came to take it from the hand which he held out, he suddenly drew it
away and hit her on the side of the head with his other hand. He did
not hit hard enough to hurt her, and it was evidently done in play,
because as he did it she got up on her hind-legs and slapped at him,
first with one hand and then with the other, growling all the time in
angry make-believe. Sometimes the man came too near, and Kahwa would
hit him, and the other men all burst out laughing. Then I saw him walk
deliberately right up to her, and they took hold of each other and
wrestled, just as Kahwa and I used to do by the old place under the
cedar-trees when we were little cubs. I could see, too, that now and
then she was not doing her best, and did not want to hurt him, and he
certainly did not hurt her.
At last the men went into the building, leaving Kahwa alone outside;
but other men were continually coming out of, or going into, the open
door, and I was afraid to approach her, or even to make any noise to
tell her of my presence. So I sat in the shade of the buildings and
watched. Nearly every man who passed stopped for a minute and spoke to
her, but none except the man whom I had first seen tried to play with
her or went within her reach. The whole thing seemed to me incredible,
but there it was under my eyes, and, somehow, it made me feel terribly
lonely--all the lonelier, I think, because she had these new friends;
for as friends she undoubtedly regarded them, while I could not even go
near enough to speak to her.
At last so many men came out of the building that I was afraid to
stay. Some of them went one way, and some another, and I had to keep
constantly moving my position to avoid being seen. In doing so I found
myself further and further away from the centre of the town, and nearer
to the outskirts. The men shouted and laughed, and made so much noise
that I did not dare to go back, but made my way out into the woods.
And for the first time I did not go home to my father and mother, but
stayed by myself in the brush.
The next evening I again made my way into the town, and once more saw
the same sights as on the preceding night. This evening, however, there
was a wind blowing, and it blew directly from me, as I stood in the
same place, to Kahwa in front of the lighted door. Suddenly, while she
was in the middle of her play, I saw her stop and begin to snuff up the
wind with every sign of excitement. Then she called to me. Answer I
dared not, but I knew that she had recognised me and would understand
why I did not speak. While she was still calling to me, the man with
whom she had been playing--the same man as on the night before--came up
and gave her a cuff on the head, and she lost her temper in earnest.
She hit at him angrily, but he jumped out of her way (how I wished she
had caught him!), and, after trying for awhile to tempt her to play
again, he and the other men left her and went into the building. Then
she gave all her time to me, and at last, when nobody was near, I spoke
just loud enough for her to hear. She simply danced with excitement,
running to the end of her chain toward me until it threw her back on
to her hind-legs, circling round and round the stump to which she was
fastened, and then charging out to the end of her chain again, all the
time whimpering and calling to me in a way which made me long to go to
her.
I did not dare to show myself, however, but waited until, as on the
night before, just as it was beginning to get light, the men all came
out of the building and scattered in different directions. This time,
however, I did not go back to the woods, but merely shifted out of the
men's way behind the dark corners of the buildings, hoping that somehow
I would find an opportunity of getting to speak to Kahwa. At last the
building was quiet, and only the man who had played with Kahwa seemed
to be left, and I saw the lights inside begin to grow less. I hoped
that then the door would be shut, and the man inside would go to sleep,
as I knew that men did in other houses when the lights disappeared
at night; but while there was still some light issuing from door and
windows the man came out and went up to Kahwa, and, unfastening the
chain from the stump, proceeded to lead her away somewhere to the rear
of the building. She struggled and tried to pull away from him, but he
jerked her along with the chain, and I could see that she was afraid
of him, and did not dare to fight him in earnest, and bit by bit he
dragged her along. I followed and saw him go to a sort of pen, or a
small enclosure of high walls without any roof, in which he left her,
and then went in to his own building. And soon I saw the last lights go
out inside and everything was quiet.
I stole round to the pen and spoke to Kahwa through the walls. She was
crazy at the sound of my voice, and I could hear her running round and
round inside, dragging the chain after her. Could she not climb out?
I asked her. No; the walls were made of straight, smooth boards with
nothing that she could get her claws into, and much too high to jump.
But we found a crack close to the ground through which our noses would
almost touch, and that was some consolation.
I stayed there as long as I dared, and told her all that had happened
since she was taken away--of the fight with the strange bear, and how
I had been in the town alone looking for her night after night; and
she told me her story, parts of which I could not believe at the time,
though now I can understand them better.
What puzzled me, and at the time made me thoroughly angry, was the way
in which she spoke of the man whom I had seen playing with her, and
who had dragged her into the pen. She was afraid of him in a curious
way--in much the same way as she was afraid of father or mother. The
idea that she could feel any affection for him I would have scouted as
preposterous; but after the experiences of the last few nights nothing
seemed too wonderful to be true, and it was plain that all her thoughts
centred in him and he represented everything in life to her. Without
him she would have no food, but as it was she had plenty. He never came
to her without bringing things to eat, delightful things sometimes;
and in particular she told me of pieces of white stuff, square and
rough like small stones, but sweeter and more delicious than honey. Of
course, I know now that it was sugar; but as she told me about it then,
and how good it was, and how the man always had pieces of it in his
pockets, which he gave her while they were playing together, I found
myself envying her, and even wishing that the man would take me to play
with, too.
But as we talked the day was getting lighter, and, promising to come
again next night, I slipped away in the dawn into the woods.
Night after night I used to go and speak to Kahwa. Sometimes I did
not go until it was nearly daylight, and she was already in her pen.
Sometimes I went earlier, and watched her with the men before the door
of the building, and often I saw the man who was her master playing
with her and giving her lumps of sugar, and I could tell from the way
in which she ate it how good it was. Many times I had narrow escapes
of being seen, for I grew careless, and trotted among the houses as
if I were in the middle of the forest. More than once I came close to
a man unexpectedly, for the man-smell was so strong everywhere that a
single man more or less in my neighbourhood made no difference, and I
had to trust to my eyes and ears entirely. Somehow, however, I managed
always to keep out of their way, and during this time I used to eat
very little wild food, living almost altogether on the things that I
picked up in the town. And during all these days and nights I never saw
my father or my mother.
Then one evening an eventful thing happened.
The door of Kahwa's pen closed with a latch from the outside--a large
piece of iron which lifted and fell, and was then kept in place by a
block of wood. I had spent a great deal of time at that latch, lifting
it with my nose, and biting and worrying it, in the hopes of breaking
it off or opening the door; but when I did that I was always standing
on my hind-legs, so as to reach up to it, with my fore-feet on the
door, and, of course, my weight kept the door shut. But that never
occurred to me. One evening, however, I happened to be standing up and
sniffing at the latch, with my fore-feet not on the door itself, but on
the wall beside the door. It happened that, just as I lifted the latch
with my nose, Kahwa put her fore-feet against the door on the inside.
To my astonishment, the door swung open into my face, and Kahwa came
rolling out. If we had only thought it out, we could just as well have
done that on the first night, instead of trying to reach each other for
nearly two weeks through a narrow crack in the wall until nearly all
the skin was rubbed off our noses.
However, it was done at last, and we were so glad that we thought of
nothing else. Now we were free to go back into the woods and take up
our old life again with father and mother. Would it not be glorious, I
asked? Yes, she said, it would be glorious. To go off into the woods,
and never, never, never, I said, see or think of man again.
Yes--yes, she said, but----Of course it would be very glorious,
but----Well, there was the white stuff--the sugar--she could come back
once in a while--just once in a while--couldn't she, to see the man and
get a lump or two?
I am afraid I lost my temper. Here was what ought to have been a moment
of complete happiness spoiled by her greediness. Of course she could
not come back, I told her. If she did she would never get away a second
time. We would go to father and mother and persuade them to move just
as far away from man as they could. Instead of being delighted, the
prospect only made her gloomy and thoughtful. Of course she wanted
to see father and mother, but--but--but----There was always that
'but'--and the thought of the man and the sugar.
While we were arguing, the time came when I usually left the town for
the day, and the immediate thing to be done was to get her away from
that place and out into the woods. Then, I thought, I could prevent her
going back into the town; so by pointing out to her that, if she wanted
to, she could come back at any time, I persuaded her to move, and we
started off through the buildings on the road that I usually took back
to the forest. But at the first step we were reminded of her chain,
which was still attached to her collar, and dragged along the ground as
she walked. It was a nuisance, but there was no way to get it off at
the moment. Perhaps, when we were safe away and had plenty of time, we
could find some way of loosening it, but at present the first thing was
to get clear of the town.
So we started, but the path was new to Kahwa, who, of course, had never
been away from the pen and the door of the building where her master
lived, and had seen nothing of the town except as she was being dragged
in by the men who had caught her, and then she had been too busy
fighting to pay any attention to her surroundings. So at almost every
step she must needs stop to smell something. Meanwhile it was getting
lighter, and we began to hear noises of men moving about inside the
buildings. Once a door opened, and I only just had time to dodge
back and keep Kahwa behind as a man stepped out into the air. But we
succeeded in reaching the very edge of the town before anything serious
happened.
The houses were all made of wood, those in the middle, like that where
Kahwa had lived, being of boards nailed together, and those on the
outskirts of logs laid upon each other whole, with the bark still on,
like the first houses that we had seen up the river. There was one of
this last kind in particular, which stood away from all the others
almost inside the forest. It was the first house that I came to each
evening on approaching the town, and the last one that I passed on
leaving it; but I always gave it a wide berth, because there was a dog
there--a small dog, it is true, but a noisy one--and the first time
that I came that way he had seen me, and made such a fuss that I had to
bolt back into the forest and wait a long time before I dared to go on
again.
Now, however, Kahwa insisted on going up to snuff around this house. I
warned her of the dog, but the truth was that she had grown accustomed
to dogs, and I think had really lost her fear of men. So she went
close up to the house, and began smelling round the walls to see if
there was anything good to eat, while I stood back under the trees
fretting and impatient of her delay.
Having sniffed all along one side of the house, she passed round the
corner to the back. In turning the corner she came right upon the dog,
who flew at her at once, though he was not much bigger than her head.
Whether she was accustomed to dogs or not, the sudden attack startled
her, and she turned round to run back to me. In doing so she just
grazed the corner of the house, and the next instant she was rolling
head over heels on the ground. The end of her chain had caught in the
crack between the ends of two of the logs at the corner, and she was
held as firmly as if she had been tied to her stump in front of the
door. As she rolled over, the dog jumped upon her, small as he was,
yelping all the time, and barking furiously. I thought it would only be
a momentary delay, but the chain held fast, and all the while the dog's
attacks made it impossible for her to give her attention to trying to
tear it free.
A minute later, and the door of the house burst open, and a man came
running out, carrying, to my horror, a thunder-stick in his hand.
Kahwa and the dog were all mixed up together on the ground, and I saw
the man stop and stand still a moment and point the thunder-stick at
her. And then came that terrible noise of the thunder-stick speaking.
Too frightened to see what happened, I took to my heels, and plunged
into the wood as fast as I could, without the man or the dog having
seen me. I ran on for some distance till I felt safe enough to stop and
listen, but there was not a sound, and no sign of Kahwa coming after
me. I waited and waited until the sun came up, and still there was no
sign of Kahwa, until at last I summoned up courage to steal slowly back
again. As I came near I heard the dog barking at intervals, and then
the voices of men. Very cautiously I crept near enough to get a view of
the house from behind, and as I came in sight of the corner where Kahwa
had fallen I saw her for the second time--just as on that wretched
evening at the berry-patch--surrounded by a group of three or four men.
But this time they had no ropes round her, and were not trying to drag
her away; only they stood talking and looking down at her, while she
lay dead on the ground before them.
FOOTNOTE
[3] The new mining town or camp of the Far West has no long rows of
houses or paved streets. The houses are built of logs or of boards,
rarely more than one story high, and are set down irregularly. There
may be one more or less well-defined 'street'--the main trail running
through the camp--but even along that there will be wide gaps between
the houses; while, for the rest, the buildings are at all sorts of
angles, so that a man or a bear may wander through them as he pleases,
regardless of whether he is following a 'street' or not.