A RACE FOR LIFE
Now any hunter of the great North-West Territory will tell you that the
only animal, perhaps, that no man can ever count on is a bear.
The big white polar bear and the grizzly of the Rocky Mountains are
always savage, most horribly dangerous. But the black and brown bears
will seldom interfere with man; never, unless wounded, or with cubs,
when there is plenty of food about. The safest time for bears is
perhaps in the autumn, when their cubs are growing up and they have
quantities of berries, honey, and such food to eat.
Now Nell knew all this very well. She and David had often seen bears.
She had no fear of them, at the same time uncertainty remained. And it
was a bad time of year!
This particular bear had been asleep in the cave above. He had waked up
with the ice still covering the fish, and small animals mostly slain by
the foxes. He was probably turning over dead wood logs to hunt for
beetles and slugs, but that is a poor meal to go on, after about five
months' fast, and he was in a very irritable mood.
Slowly he raised himself on his haunches and sat up. Nell would have
liked to stand still and watch him, but felt it would not do. She moved
away, quicker and quicker, but trying to do it in an unaggressive way.
"Good thing we haven't got the shoes on," she said to David, making
talk, as it were, with one eye on the big black bear.
"Why?" asked the boy, shifting his into an easier position where they
were slung across his shoulder.
"Because I think we shall have to run for it."
"Oh no!"
"Oh yes," said Nell; "he's in a bad temper. What a nuisance!"
"Can't we shoot him?" suggested David, as they moved on with increasing
speed.
"Shoot! My dear boy, with automatics! He wouldn't mind much unless we
shot his eye out, and then he'd be deadly! Wish I'd brought the little
rifle, but I thought it was safer with the pelts on the sled, it's so
heavy to carry. You want something pretty strong to stop a bear. Dad
says their skins are so thick. Bother it, he's coming. Run, Da, and
don't tumble over the roots, whatever you do. Remember the bunk house
is good and close. We'll get there."
"Where's that donkey Robin?" muttered David, but Nell did not answer;
she was intent on this very tiresome adventure. It was fairly plain
that the dog had found the bear trail and followed it to the cave. No
doubt he was hunting up there among the rocks, and in a way she was not
anxious for him to come till this was over, because a dog has small
chance with a bear if it comes to fighting at close quarters. People
have an idea that a bear kills by hugging, and will always squeeze his
enemy to death, whereas the astonishing weapon it uses is the lightning
swiftness of its _strike_. A bear strikes with his fore-paw--which is
armed with terrible rending claw--as quickly as a snake darts, and he
can break the neck of a moose or a buffalo with one smack. Nell knew
all about this and she did not want Robin to come to close quarters,
therefore she would not whistle, but ran on, David keeping up with her,
faster and faster.
Now these two were very swift of foot, but they had been greatly tried
for a good many days and nights, they were hungry and a bit spent, for
it was afternoon; lastly, they were cumbered with their packs and shoes.
They were handicapped, but fortunately for them so also was the bear,
for he, too, was not at his best.
A certain great writer says that an elephant does not seem to be made
for speed, but if he wanted to catch an express train he would probably
catch it. A bear, too, does not look as though he could run, but he
can, very fast indeed, and it took all the running those two could
manage to keep ahead. Nell's anxiety was David chiefly. Could he hold
out?
Fortunately it was all downhill, and they were very surefooted with long
practice of running over rough ground. The bear came shambling on
behind, grunting with anger.
"Don't look round, Da," ordered Nell sharply, "you'll trip up! Look
where you're going! The bunk house is quite close now."
David did as he was told, knowing she was right about the tripping. A
stumble would be death. Just where you put your feet mattered
enormously at that moment. The bunk house was close--which was
comforting.
What he did not realise, and Nell wanted to keep from him, was that the
bear was gaining. Every time she sent a glancing look over her shoulder
he was a little nearer. She measured the distance to the bunk house
anxiously. It was touch and go; she would not admit to herself that it
could not be done. What was the distance? Fifty yards, forty? Less?
And at that moment David went headlong over a bunch of snags half hidden
by snow. He was looking round to see what Nell was looking at. Just as
anybody might. He wanted to see what she thought and felt, because he
realised great danger.
Nell sprang to him. He was on his feet in less time than it takes to
tell about it, but the bear had gained. The girl glanced once at him
and her soul sickened. His red mouth was open and his little pig-like
eyes were full of mad rage, even the horrid smell of his rusty coat came
to her on the clean air.
"Run, Da," she said, keeping her voice level, "run! We shall do it,"
but she was loosening her pistol in its pocket and getting ready for the
stand that must come directly.
On the instant she felt a stab of dread, from behind came a sudden
bell-like bay--the note of Robin on a scent in full cry.
He had been hunting round about the dens in the rocks and hit on the
bear's fresh tracks. It was a beautiful sound, that deep note of the
big hound, and to Nell it meant rescue, she believed. One glance she
took at the wood behind. Up on the slope she saw the black shape of
Robin, nose to ground, racing down on the track of the bear--and his
mistress.
He was galloping, tail high, heavy ears drooped forward. Again he gave
out his deep bay.
The bear checked his speed, wavered, and then came on again, but without
the terrible intentness of his previous attack. Being a wild creature
he was aware of danger. Something was coming!
Nell increased her speed, if that were possible, and heartened her
brother with a joyous cry:
"On, on, Da--let's get the door open, and then call Robin in. He
mustn't fight the bear."
The difficulty of opening the door with the bear at her elbow, so to
speak, had been the haunting terror. One couldn't do it. There would
be no time.
She and David raced down to the door, just as the bear turned to deal
with this swift black shape that leaped round him in the snow, keeping
just out of reach of his death-dealing forearm.
"Oh, the key, the key--it's locked!" cried Nell rather desperately.
"Oh, Da! Where did Dad say----" She tried to think. David was
absorbed in watching Robin's assault on the bear, which was sitting up
again, making swift smacks at the illusive black attacker.
"Well _done_--go it, Robin!"
"Oh, don't, he'll be killed," Nell expostulated in an agonised voice,
while her eyes travelled eagerly round the door frame, and she shook the
solid latch.
"He won't be killed. He's too quick," said the boy triumphantly. "Key?
Oh, there it is on a nail under the eave. I say, Nell, look at Rob!
He's a right smart one!"
It was true. Rob was tormenting the bear with great cleverness, but
Nell was far more intent on getting into safety, and probably few people
have experienced a warmer sense of relief than she did when she opened
the door of the bunk house.
Not much of a place, but the relief!
She glanced round with a satisfied look, and saw four bunks--like the
berths of a ship--on one side, a rusty stove laid ready for lighting, as
the custom is the outgoing traveller must lay the fire for the one who
arrives wet and chilled, a pile of chopped wood, and a rough cupboard.
Besides that a heavily made bench and a table. But the joy of it! Nell
could have danced round that very rough table in spite of her weary
legs, but there was Robin to capture and a furious bear outside.
After that look round she rushed out again and whistled to the dog.
Then she called. Robin was very loath to leave the great black brute,
out of whose reach he kept for the time being.
He came at Nell's call reluctantly. The bear came, too, but with more
caution as he was not sure how much he liked the log house.
Then the heavy door was slammed and locked, and the three sat down and
breathed hard amid bursts of laughter. Robin laughed, too, as dogs do,
his lips lifted over his teeth. His eyes said:
"What a spree, wasn't it?" and he laid a heavy paw on Nell's knee.
She stroked his black silky head with a hand that shook just a little.
"If it hadn't been for Rob, Da, you'd have been--well, it was touch and
go when you fell over that root."
"Rotten thing!" said David cheerfully. "But you know it's not so easy
to run for your life carrying a mass of things, and the ground all
tangled up under the snow. Well, here we are! I say, how jolly! Nell,
what will the old brute do?"
"Go away, presently," answered his sister as she kneeled to light the
stove. "Now, then, first off with the moccasins and have our dry
stockings, then we'll have a real decent supper. Da, put the fur bags
in the bunks and bring those bunk blankets near the stove; we'll have it
all hot and dry."
The first thing that happened after that was a discovery, and not a
pleasant one either. There was a little food in the cupboard--tea and
cocoa in tins, flour, and tobacco, and a small bit of bacon frozen hard.
It was obviously the cache of some trapper who had passed here on his
way down to Moose River, and as he would depend on it when he returned
probably, they were in honour bound either to leave it alone, or put
back what they took. Nell remembered with a sudden shock of dismay that
Andrew Lindsay's cache was outside. He had described the place at the
corner of the shack. Not trusting some of the trappers--with good
reason--he had made a cache of his own. That would have been quite all
right if the bear had not been outside.
They had to laugh and be thankful for the small supply in the cupboard.
In the morning, or late that night perhaps, they would dig for "Dad's
cache" and put back what they had used--also have another supper and a
good breakfast.
They gave Robin his last piece of fish, and at the same moment
remembered that it was not possible to make tea without water, or get
water without snow, and all the snow was outside!
Long they waited and listened, their only comfort being the warmth of
the fire. They were very patient, as people learn to be who live hardly
and have to make, get, and do everything for themselves by the work of
their own wits and fingers. It is not an easy life, but it teaches you
a lot which is never wasted.
Presently, from the little window, glazed with parchment, they caught a
sight of the bear sitting up holding in his arms a piece of logwood,
which he seemed to be licking--for insects probably.
"Oh, _poor_ old thing!" said Nell joyfully, and she rushed to the door
with her billy-can.
Very soon after the smell of hot tea and baking bread made the log house
feel like home.