LOST IN THE ROSEBUD RANGE
"Whoa, Pink-eye!" muttered the lad, stirring restlessly. "I'll get
him next time. Look out, he's charging us. Oh!"
The boy suddenly opened his eyes. The darkness about him was deep
and impenetrable and he was conscious of a heavy weight on his
chest. What it was, he did not know, and some moments passed before
he had recovered sufficiently to form an intelligent idea of what
had happened.
All at once he recollected.
"It was the bear," he murmured. "I wonder if I am dead!"
No, he could feel the ground under him, and a rock that his right
hand rested on, felt cold and chilling. But what of the pressure on
his chest?
Cautiously the lad moved a hand toward the object that was holding
him down. His fingers lightly touched it.
Tad could scarce repress a yell.
It was the head of the bear that was resting on him, and he had no
idea whether the animal were dead or asleep, awaiting the moment
when the lad should stir again to fasten its cruel teeth into his
body.
The boy was satisfied, however, that by exerting all his strength he
would be able to pull himself away before the beast could awaken,
even, providing it were still alive.
First he sought cautiously for his weapon, his fingers groping about
over the ground at his right hand. He could not find it. Undoubtedly
it had fallen underneath the bear.
Tad determined to mate a desperate effort to escape. He felt as if
his hair were standing on end.
With a cry that he could not keep back, the lad whirled over and
sprang to his feet. As he did so he leaped away, running with all
his might until he had put some distance between himself and the
prostrate animal.
Realizing that he was not being followed, Tad brought up sharply and
dodged behind a tree. There he stood listening intently for several
minutes.
Not a sound disturbed the stillness of the night. The leaves of the
trees hung limp and lifeless, for no breeze was stirring.
"I wonder if he's dead," whispered the lad, almost afraid to trust
his voice out loud. "Maybe that shot finished him. I must find out
somehow."
Tad searched his clothes for matches, finally finding his match
safe. Next he sought to gather some sticks with which to make a
torch, but the only wood he was able to find was of oak and so green
that it would not burn.
"That's too bad," he muttered. "I'll have to try it with the
matches."
Lighting one he picked his way carefully toward the place where he
had been lying, peering into the shadows ahead of him suspiciously
as he went.
"There he is," breathed Tad.
He could faintly make out the figure of the bear lying half on its
side as it had been before, the only difference being that the
animal's head was stretched out on the ground instead of on the
lad's chest.
"I believe he's dead. He must be or he'd have been after me before
this," decided the boy. "I 'm going to find out."
Mustering his courage, Tad continued his cautious approach, lighting
match after match, shading the flame with his hands so that the
light would not get into his eyes and prevent him from seeing
anything ahead of him.
It required no little courage for a boy alone in the mountains to
walk up to a bear, not knowing whether the animal were dead or
alive. Yet when Tad Butler made up his mind to do a certain thing,
he persisted until he had accomplished it.
He reached the side of the animal, that is, close enough so that he
could get a good view of it.
The bear never moved and Tad drew closer, walking on his toes that
he might make no sound. There seemed no other way to make certain
except to stir the animal.
"I'll do it," whispered Tad.
Cautiously lighting another match he drew back his left foot and
administered a sound kick to the beast's side.
Thinking that the bear had moved under the blow, Tad whirled and ran
tittering a loud "Oh!"
He waited, but could hear no sound.
"I believe I am afraid of myself. That bear hasn't stirred at
all. I'm going back this time and make sure."
He did. But this time, steeling himself to the task, Tad stood still
after he had prodded the beast with his foot again. There was no
movement other than a slight tremor caused by the impact of the
kick.
"Hurrah, I've shot a bear!" cried the lad in the excess of his
excitement. "I wonder what the boys will say. The next question is
how am I going to get him back to camp?"
Tad pondered over this problem some moments.
"I know," he cried. "I'll hitch a rope to him and make Pink-eye tow
him out. But where is that pony?"
All at once the realization came to him that the pony had thrown him
off. That was the last he had seen of Pink-eye.
Tad whistled and called, listening after each attempt without the
slightest result.
"He's gone. I've got to find my way back as best I can. The worst of
it is I may be a long way from camp, but I guess I can find my way
with the compass all right."
The compass, however, was nowhere to be found. The lad went through
his pockets twice in search of it.
"Pshaw! Just my luck. I'm as bad at losing things as Chunky is in
falling in. I'll get the gun anyway, for the Professor will be
provoked if I go back without it. Ah, there it is."
Tad picked up the weapon joyfully.
"I've got something to defend myself with, at least," he told
himself. A moment later when he discovered that the weapon held
nothing but empty shells, the keen edge of his joy was dulled.
"Well, it's better to pack back an empty gun than no gun at all," he
decided philosophically. "Let me see, I think we came up that way.
They'll build a big fire so I can see it and I ought to be there
within half an hour at least."
The lad struck out confidently. He had been lost in the wilderness
before, and though he felt a slight uneasiness he had no doubt of
his ability to find the camp eventually.
He walked vigorously for half an hour. Then he halted. The same
impressive silence surrounded him.
"I think I have been going a little too far to the left," he
decided. He changed his course and plodded on methodically again.
Another half hour passed and once more the lad paused, this time
with the realization strong upon him that he had lost his way.
Placing both hands to his mouth Tad uttered a long drawn
"C-o-o-e-e-e!" He listened intently, then repeated the call.
The sound of his own voice almost frightened him.
"Oh, I'm lost!" he cried, now fully appreciating his position.
The panic of the lost seized him and Tad ran this way and that,
plunging ahead for some distance, then swerving to the right or to
the left in a desperate attempt to free himself from the endless
thicket, bruising his body from contact with the trunks of the trees
and cutting his hands as they struck the rocks violently when he fell.
"Tad Butler, you stop this!" he commanded sternly, bringing himself
up sharply. "I didn't think you were such a silly kid as to be
afraid of the dark." But in his innermost heart the lad knew that it
was not the shadows that had so upset him. It was the feeling of
being lost in an unknown forest.
Instead of being in the foothills as he had supposed, he was
penetrating the fastnesses of the Rosebud Mountains themselves.
"There is no use in my going on like this," he decided
finally. "I'll sit down and wait for daylight. That's all I can
do. I surely can find my way back to camp when the light comes
again."
The next question was where should he go--where find a safe place
to stay until morning. Tad remembered with a start that there were
bears in the range. He knew this from his own recent experience. How
many other savage beasts there might be in the woods he did not
know. He had heard some one speak of mountain lions, and having seen
these before, he fervently hoped he might not have another
experience with them, unarmed as he was.
"If this gun only were loaded, I should feel better."
After searching around for some time, Tad found a ledge that seemed
to rise to a considerable height. Up this he clambered. It would
give him a good view in the morning anyway, besides protecting him
from any prowling animals that might chance in that part of the
forest.
Tad ensconced himself in a slight depression, and with a flat rock
for a resting place, leaned back determined to make the best of his
position.
A gentle breeze now stirred the foliage above his head and all about
him until the sound became a restless murmur, as if Nature were
holding council over the lad's predicament.
The lost boy did not so interpret the sounds, however. He made a
more practical application of them.
"It's going to rain," he decided wisely, casting a glance above him
at the sky, which was becoming rapidly overcast. "And I haven't any
umbrella," he added, grinning at his own feeble joke. "Well, I've
been wet before. I cannot well be any more so than I was last
night. I'll bet the rainwater will be warmer than the waters in the
East Fork. If it isn't I'll surely freeze to death."
Fortunately he had worn his coat when he left the camp, else he
would now have suffered from the cold. As it was, he shivered, but
more from nervousness than from the chill night air.
"Yoh--hum, but I'm sleepy," he murmured drowsily. A moment more
and his head had drooped to one side and Tad Butler was sleeping as
soundly as if tucked away between his own blankets back in his tent
in the foothills.