AN INVITATION TO COME OUT
"About time those boys were showing up, eh, Bluff?"
"There they come now, Mr. Mabie, and--Jerusalem!"
"What ails you now?" asked the stockman, coming out of the tent.
"They've got an old Indian in tow, as sure as you live!" cried Bluff.
"Where is he? I've just been wanting to get an Indian picture the worst
way. Show him to me, please!" And Will came crawling hastily forth, of
course clutching his beloved camera in his hand.
"H'm! I guess I know that old buck. It's Running Elk, the chief of the
Crees. Something must have happened out of the usual order," said the
ranchman.
When he learned what Frank had to say Mr. Mabie proved himself just such
a man as the others had believed him to be. He advanced to the Indian,
who was standing there in stoical silence, with his blanket thrown over
his shoulder, and held out his hand.
"I'm glad to meet you again, Running Elk, and sorry to hear about your
trouble. But it will soon be all right. I'll see to it that the
authorities learn about Pierre, and they'll get him before long. In the
meantime, I'm going to give you a letter to my foreman. You take your
little party to the ranch, and they'll see to it that you have plenty to
eat until I come back home," he said.
The chief shook his head sadly.
"Bad! bad! Young braves no think when kill runaway steers. Never more
can happen after this. Send skins to pay when get um. Glad get meat for
squaw and pappoose."
That was the extent of his remarks.
"I guess Injuns ain't got much of a supply of words," remarked Will
aside to Bluff.
"But he means all right. I like the old chap's looks. Come along, Frank,
and tell us all about it. You look like you've been in a fight. Say! the
reds didn't tackle you, did they?" exclaimed Bluff.
"One did; a little chap about hip-high. Ho was out trying to snare a
jack-rabbit, when he found me. I'd taken a header down over a root, and
was lying in a state where I didn't care whether school kept or not. He
led me to their camp, and Jerry found me there later. That's all of it
in a nutshell. Now I'm going to have Mr. Mabie wrap up my hand and take
a look at my head, for it still rings."
After an examination, the ranchman declared that there was nothing
serious the matter.
"It may take a few days for that lump to subside, and these cuts to
heal, but you came out of it better than an old fellow like me could
have done," he said, and Frank felt relieved.
"What are you going to do with Running Elk?" he asked.
"Send him back to his people with some food. Then he will carry this
letter to my foreman, who will look after the party until we get back.
After that I'll see to it that Pierre is taken care of and the chief
recalled to his own."
"I knew you would. I told the old fellow that, but he was sore afraid
that you could never forgive what his young braves had done a year or
two ago."
The old Cree chief soon departed, with a grin on his face, and his arms
full of bundles. He might have been proud, but there were hungry mouths
to feed, and for their sakes he must forget that he should die sooner
than beg favors.
Frank felt rather stiff and sore on the following day. He was satisfied
to hang about camp, and let his chums do the hunting, for once.
Jerry could not be restrained, for his sporting blood demanded that he
keep going all the while. Will was just as eager to do his style of
shooting, and even wandered down the river to get a view of the Cree
teepee before the family of Running Elk broke camp.
Bluff took a notion to try fishing, and with considerable success. Later
in the day Frank also wet a line, and between them they managed to
secure a decent mess of fat trout for the whole party.
When Jerry came in he reported that he had had a shot at an elk, but
failed to stop his flight. He also declared that he had seen what he
believed to be a wolf skulking through the timber.
"Oh, I don't doubt it," said the old stockman, when Frank looked
questioningly at him. "The pesky critters like to hang around here,
looking for a nice calf that happens to stray away from its mammy's
side. Winter and summer, it's all the same to them, so long as we don't
get after the pack too hot. Never lose a chance to knock over a wolf, my
boy."
"I never mean to," said Jerry, holding up a piece of gray fur.
"That's wolf, all right; and look here, what did you do to him?"
demanded Mr. Mabie.
"I was very kind to the scamp, and hung him up in a tree, where the rest
of his tribe couldn't get at him to tear his hide to pieces. You see, I
had a notion that I'd like to have that skin for a rug, and that later
on, perhaps, one of the boys might go out with me and remove it much
better than I could," grinned Jerry.
"Thank you, my lad. I feel that you've done me a favor. Every wolf that
goes across the Great Divide means more calves to grow up; and you shall
have your rug, I pledge you my word."
Mr. Mabie shook the hand of the successful wolf hunter with emphasis,
showing that he felt deeply on the subject.
Just as he expected, Frank was still rather sore on the following day.
He let the others do the hunting that morning, Will tagging behind the
bunch with his ready camera.
They came in at noon, having covered some new ground, and brought the
best part of an elk with them. Mr. Mabie laughed, and wished it might
have been an antelope instead. He was not partial to elk meat, which was
perhaps natural in a stockman, who could kill young beef whenever the
spirit moved.
"How about that bear den, Reddy?" asked Jerry, as they lounged about the
camp in the early afternoon.
"Any time you say the word. I was only waitin' till Frank felt himself
again," was the other's reply.
"Oh, don't let my condition keep you from that little entertainment.
Besides, I feel much better now. Perhaps a little excitement might put
me in just the right kind of trim," declared that individual promptly.
"Hear! hear!" exclaimed Bluff, making a pretense of clapping his hands.
"Talk to me about your dyed-in-the-wool sportsman! Frank, here, could
give any fellow points," declared Jerry.
"I understand the principle he works on. It's the same as what they call
homoepathy, that 'like cures like.' I've seen a man, when struck by a
rattler, chase the reptile, kill him, and apply his crushed body to the
wound, in the belief that one poison would counteract the other," said
the stockman.
"Did it succeed?" asked Jerry, eager for information along these lines.
"Well," said Mr. Mabie, "the poor chap died, I'm sorry to say. In
another case, the fellow insisted on filling himself up with whiskey. He
lived through it, too, which proved the rule, though I believe there are
better things to save a man than liquor. But Frank has the right idea.
The excitement of the chase will cause him to forget, and take some of
the stiffness out of his joints."
"Then we go this afternoon?" queried Reddy anxiously.
"Whenever you're ready," answered Frank.
They set out within half an hour. Of course, the whole four chums
insisted on being in the party. Besides, there were the guide, Mr. Mabie
and Billy. Each of the cowboys carried his rope, for of late it had
seemed as though a lariat might be a very necessary accompaniment to
these side hunts.
They headed in a quarter where, as yet, none of the boys had been. This
led them directly into the thickets that lay at the base of the mountain
barrier, stretching away up against the blue heavens.
None of the chums had forgotten the fierce appearance of the grizzly
that had fallen before the rifle which Jerry wielded so cleverly.
"Remember, lads," said Mr. Mabie, as they trailed along through rocky
gulches, "every Mountain Charlie isn't going to keel over as easily as
the one Jerry got. He was lucky to send his lead to a vital point. I've
seen veteran hunters shoot a bear a dozen times, and then have to finish
him with a knife."
"I've always read that they can stand a tremendous amount of shooting
without caving under," admitted Frank.
"And it isn't considered at all disgraceful, when stirring such a
terrible monster out of his den, for the hunters to post themselves in
trees near by. While at first blush such a procedure might seem silly or
cowardly to you, take an old hunter's advice, and give the rascal no
more chance than you can help. Even then I've known him to shake a
fellow out of a small tree, and only for the assistance of the others he
must have killed the youngster."
"A grizzly can't climb a tree, then, sir?" questioned Will uneasily.
"Not ordinarily. He might manage to swarm up if the trunk was inclined
about forty-five degrees. Select straight ones, and of some size; then
you're safe."
"Thank you, Mr. Mabie. I'll follow your advice. You see, I'm only the
photographer of the club, and they could hardly afford to lose me,"
remarked Will, thinking some sort of an apology might be necessary for
his seeming timidity.
But the others did not laugh. They knew their chum too well for that. He
had proven more than once that when it came to a pinch he could conquer
his natural weakness, and show the right spirit of bravery, especially
if it were one of his comrades who was in peril.
"Well," remarked Reddy a short time later, "we're close to the place
now."
"I imagined as much," said Mr. Mabie, with a significant look around.
"You mean that this is an ideal spot for a grizzly to have his den?"
asked Jerry.
"Fine. Look at the tumbled-down rocks, making many a cave that affords
shelter from the elements, winter and summer. Then, of course, the old
rascal has a nice short cut through some canyon to the open country. He
uses that when he feels sharp set for veal. Oh, yes, I've no doubt he's
been the cause of many a calf disappearing from the herd," said the
stockman between his teeth.
"I don't wonder, then, you are so keen at wanting to get rid of all such
neighbors as grizzlies, panthers and wolves. They make an expensive
boarding-house," laughed Bluff.
"They take their toll right along. This region would be a paradise for
a stockman only for that. The grass is heavy, and while the winters are
severe, we know how to carry our stock over; but we can never calculate
our profits, because of the losses on account of hungry wild beasts."
"Then I'm glad we came here to get our taste of big-game shooting, for
it will not only be fun for us, but a benefit to civilization," remarked
Bluff, who, being in training to succeed his lawyer father, often liked
to indulge in imposing sentences.
"Now look over yonder to where that cleft yawns," said Reddy at this
juncture.
"I see it; and is that the den?" asked Jerry.
"Sure as you live. You fellows be choosing your trees, and let me take a
peek."
"He isn't going in, I hope!" exclaimed Will as the cowboy moved away.
"Well, hardly. Reddy doesn't want to commit suicide just yet. He's only
going to make sure the old chap is at home, then he'll make preparations
to smoke him out."
As Mr. Mabie said, Reddy was soon back, and from his actions it was
positive the bear was at home. He began collecting dry wood and all
manner of material calculated to make a big smoke. The boys knew
something about such a scheme themselves, and were deeply interested.
Mr. Mabie insisted that each one seek an asylum in the branches of a
tree that commanded the black cleft. Presently, Reddy had his pile of
wood and brush ready, and he put a match to it, after which he beat a
hasty retreat, climbing into the tree with Frank.
"Listen!" he said presently.
Frank could hear a sound like sneezing. This was followed by a
scrambling noise that arose above the crackling of the fire. Then came a
terrific roar, succeeded by a sudden scattering of the brands, and the
enraged grizzly rushed into the open!