A BEAR STORY--THE BEAST INFURIATED--A NEW DANGER CONFRONTS HIM.
An old prospecting partner of Mr. Creede’s told the following story
to the writer, after the discovery of the Amethyst, which lifted the
discoverer into prominence, gave him fame and a bank account--and gave
every adventuress who heard of his fortune, a new field:
A man by the name of Chester, Creede and I were prospecting in San
Miguel County, Colorado, in the 80’s. We had our camp in a narrow cañon
by a little mountain stream. It was summer time; the berries were
ripe, and bear were as thick as sheep in New Mexico. About sunset one
evening I called Creede out to show him a cow which I had discovered
on a steep hillside near our cabin.
The moment the Captain saw the animal he said in a stage whisper:
“Bear!” I thought he was endeavoring to frighten me; but he soon
convinced me that he was in earnest.
Without taking his eyes from the animal, he spoke again in the same
stage whisper, instructing me to hasten and bring Chester with a couple
of rifles. When I returned with the shooting irons I gave the one I
carried to Creede, who instructed me to climb upon a sharp rock that
stood up like a church spire in the bottom of the cañon. From my high
place I was to signal the sharp-shooters, keeping them posted as to the
movements of the bear.
“You come with me,” said Creede to the man who stood at his side.
It occurred to me now for the first time that there was some danger
attached to this sport. I couldn’t help wondering what would become of
me in case the bear got the best of my two partners.
If the bear captured them and got possession of the only two guns in
the camp, my position on that rock would become embarrassing, if not
actually dangerous. I turned to look at Chester, who did not seem to
start when Creede did. Poor fellow, he was as pale as a ghost. “See
here,” he said, addressing the man who was looking back, smiling and
beckoning him on as he led the way down toward the noisy little creek
which they must cross to get in rifle range of the bear, “I’m a man of
a family, an’ don’t see why I should run headlong into a fight with a
grizzly bear. I suppose if I was a single man, I would do as you do;
but when I think of my poor wife and dear little children, it makes
me homesick.” Creede kept smiling and beckoning with his forefinger.
I laughed at Chester for being so scared. He finally followed, after
asking me to look after his family in case he failed to return. Just as
a man would who was on his way to the Tower.
Having reached the summit of the rock, I was surprised to see the big
bear coming down the hill, headed for the spot where the hunters stood
counseling as to how they should proceed. I tried to shout a warning to
them, but the creek made such a fuss falling over the rocks that they
were unable to hear me.
A moment more and she hove in sight, coming down the slope on a long
gallop. Probably no man living ever had such an entertainment as I
was about to witness. In New York ten thousand people would pay a
hundred dollars a seat to see it; but there was no time to bill the
country--the curtain was up and the show was on. Creede, who was the
first to see the animal, shot one swift glance at his companion, raised
his rifle, a Marlin repeater, and fired. The great beast shook her
head, snorted, increased her pace and bore down upon her assailants.
Again and again Creede’s rifle rang out upon the evening air, and
hearing no report from Chester’s gun, he turned, and to his horror, saw
his companion, rifle in hand, running for camp. Many a man would have
wasted a shot on the deserter, but Creede was too busy with the bear,
even if he had been so inclined. Less than forty feet separated the
combatants when Creede turned, and at the next shot I was pleased to
see the infuriated animal drop and roll upon the ground. In another
second she was up again, and she looked more like a ball of blood than
an animal. Now she stood up for the final struggle. I saw Creede take
deliberate aim at her breast. He fired and she fell. I shouted with joy
as I thought she must be dead now, but was surprised to see that Creede
was still shooting. As rapidly as I clapped my hands his rifle shouted,
and he put four more great leaden missiles into the body of the bear.
With that unaccountable strength that comes to man and beast in the
last great struggle, the mad monster stood up again. Nothing on earth
or under the earth could be more awful in appearance than was this
animal. One eye had been forced from the socket, and stood out like a
great ball of fire. Blood fairly gushed from her open mouth, and the
coarse, gurgling, strangling sound that came from the flooded throat,
was so awful that it fairly chilled the blood in my veins. For a second
she stood still and glared at her adversary as if she would rest or get
a breath before springing upon him.
Again I saw the hunter take deliberate aim. This time he aimed at the
open mouth, the ball crashed up through the brain and the bear dropped
dead.
I did not shout now. This was the third time I had seen him kill that
same bear, and I expected her to get up again. Creede was not quite
satisfied, for I saw him hastily filling his magazine; and it was well.
The hunter stepped up to the great dead animal and placed his feet upon
her, as hunters are wont to do, when another danger confronted him.
Attracted by the shooting and the coarse cries of the wounded bear, her
mate came bounding down the slope to her rescue.
[Illustration]
The first act had been interesting, but I confess that I was glad when
the curtain dropped. Creede was tired. Even an experienced hunter
could hardly be expected to go through such a performance without
experiencing some anxiety. I almost held my breath as the big animal
bore down upon the tired hunter. Nearer and nearer he came, and Creede
had not even raised his rifle to his shoulder. Now the bear was less
than twenty feet away and Creede stood still as a statue with one foot
resting on the body of the dead.
I was so excited that I shouted to him to shoot, but he never knew it;
and if he had, it would have made no difference.
At last the bear stopped within eight feet of the hunter, and
bear-like, stood up. Now the rifle was leveled and it seemed to me it
would never go, but it did. The big bullet broke the bear’s neck, and
he fell down dead at the hunter’s feet.