A FIGHT WITH A GRIZZLY
Now, though Angus was working hard under pressure, the hard part of it
was not the work but the things he wanted to do and could not. Though he
plugged away steadily at his tasks, his thoughts were not of them, but
of lonely trails, and steep hills, and deep timber, and the surging
waters tumbling down in nameless creeks from hoary old glaciers; and he
would have given all he owned if he could with a clear conscience have
quit the ranch work and taken a holiday. But as he could not, he worked
on grimly.
Occasionally, however, he rode the range after stock, and on these
occasions he carried a rifle, on the chance of getting a shot at a deer.
Invariably now he rode Chief, who was becoming a most dependable saddle
horse. And so one bright fall morning he rode along the foothills to
find, if he could, a small bunch of cattle which he himself had not seen
since Spring.
Shortly after mid-day he found himself near the site of an old logging
camp, where several creeks united to form a muskeg, and at the foot of
it a little lake. Out of the lake a larger creek ran, and across it
stood the old camp buildings, now worn and weatherbeaten and roofless.
The banks were steeply cut and the old pole bridge was rotten. Therefore
Angus put Chief on a rope where the grazing was good, and taking his
lunch and rifle, crossed the creek, intending to eat beside an excellent
spring which was better than the creek water.
He leaned his rifle against one end of the ancient bunkhouse, went the
length of it, turned the corner, and came full upon a huge, old-man
grizzly.
[Illustration: _He turned the corner, and came full upon a huge, old-man
grizzly._]
The bear had been digging at a rotten stump, which strewed the ground in
fragments, and the brawl of the creek had drowned whatever noise Angus
had made. Thus it was a case of mutual surprise. As Angus turned the
corner the bear's senses brought him warning. He turned his great, flat
head, and at sight of the intruder his mane roached and bristled, and he
swung about with unbelievable quickness. Being more or less penned by
the wall of the eating camp and an old pole fence, he probably believed
himself cornered. He half rose, with a snort, and his fierce, little
eyes lit with a green flare.
Angus had had no first-hand experience with grizzlies, though he had
seen them at a distance. Nevertheless, he knew a good deal about them
from men who had, and his information amounted to this: The ordinary
grizzly will run if he can; but if he is wounded or believes himself
cornered, there is no telling just what he will do. Also there are "bad"
bears, just as there are "bad" bulls or stallions.
The bear was a complete surprise to Angus. He was so close that he could
almost smell him, could see the little pieces of rotten, wet wood and
slaver on his jaws, the red of his mouth and the white of his tusks all
speckled with dirt from his grubbing. For a moment his heart almost
stopped beating, his hair prickled, and stood on end, and his knees
knocked together. For an instant he stood frozen in his tracks, and then
as he saw the great brown bulk gather itself he came to life and action.
With an involuntary yell he leaped into the air like a scared lynx,
turned and hit the ground running.
Behind him he heard a short, coughing roar, and it nearly doubled the
stretch of his stride. He made the length of the bunkhouse, turned it
and grabbed for his rifle. But his fingers merely brushed the barrel and
knocked it down. There was no time to pick it up. He doubled the next
corner like a rabbit and after him came the grizzly, with most infernal
persistence.
For a short distance a grizzly is as fast as a good pony, and all that
had saved Angus was dodging around corners. But that could not go on
indefinitely. The walls of the roofless bunkhouse were of logs, closely
mortised, but inside he knew there were the remains of some old,
double-decked bunks. It was taking a chance, but he ducked through the
door opening, scrambled up on the bunks, the old poles crashing beneath
him, and straddled the top log just in time to escape the swipe of a
steel-garnished paw which actually brushed his leg.
From this strategic position, rather out of breath and somewhat shaky,
he looked down at the grizzly, and the bear looked up at him, rumbling
and grumbling to himself, his wicked, little eyes burning with unholy
lights. He was a big bear, shaggy and rough, with a sprinkle of gray in
his mane, and there was no doubt that he was annoyed. As a beginning he
knocked a bunk to pieces with one lift and bat of a paw, and rearing he
reached for Angus. Luckily the wall was high, and the big claws raked
bark and slivers below him. Not being able to reach his enemy, the bear
dropped back with a grunt, and stood swinging to and fro gently.
It occurred to Angus that he might drop over the wall, get his rifle and
call for a show-down, but as he waited to get back some of his breath
and steadiness, meanwhile hitching along the wall to get closer to the
gun, the bear shambled through the door. He trotted around the
bunkhouse, and coming to the rifle sniffed at it and took a wide circle.
Perhaps he knew the smell of steel, and suspected a trap. But after
prowling up and down for a few minutes eying the treed man, he did not
go away, which was quite contrary to what Angus had heard of the habits
of bears under similar circumstances. He lay down like a dog, apparently
prepared to camp there indefinitely.
From where Angus sat he could see Chief, standing hip-shot and half
asleep, quite unconscious of the bear, and he was glad that the latter
was equally unconscious of the horse, for he seemed full of racial
prejudice against man and his possessions. All Angus could do was wait
it out. An hour passed, and he grew weary of his position, and indignant
at being forced to lie along a log like a lizard by a low-grade
proposition like a bear. He tore off bark and pelted him with it. The
grizzly merely eyed him evilly and sniffed at what he threw; so Angus
gave it up, and more time passed.
In spite of his position the sun and wind made him sleepy. Perhaps he
dozed. He had seen and heard nothing. But suddenly as he turned his head
he saw a girl a few yards away from the old eating-camp.
For a moment Angus did not believe his eyes. It seemed one of those
vague visions which flit across the mental retina in that dim shadowland
between wakefulness and slumber. She was looking down into the finder of
a camera, while back of her, reins lying on its neck instead of a-trail,
stood a pony. She was tall and straight, and a crown of hair shone to
the slope of the afternoon's sun, for she was using a pony hat to shield
the camera's lens.
Angus gaped and blinked, and then he knew it was no dream vision, but
real flesh and blood. Just then she got her picture and took a step or
two in his direction, winding up the film.
"Hi!" Angus hailed, "don't come here. Get on your pony, quick."
Being very much in earnest, voice and words were harsh, peremptory. The
girl stopped short and looked around. Then for the first time she saw
him perched on the wall.
"I beg your pardon!" she said, her voice carrying clear and full, a
touch of hauteur in her tone answering the harshness of Angus' command.
"I'm not to come there, you say. Why not?" Her chin lifted as she spoke
and she took another step forward.
"Bear!" Angus returned. "Get back, I tell you. I'm treed by a bad
grizzly. Get on your pony and pull out before he sees you."
The girl stopped. "Do you mean that?" she demanded incredulously.
"Do I mean it?" Angus yelled, exasperated by her delay and frightened at
her very real danger. "Get a move on you, woman, if you have any sense!
He hears you now!"
His tone left no doubt of his sincerity, and the girl, turning, ran
toward her pony. But the animal, not being anchored by the reins, sidled
away at her swift approach.
"Hurry up!" Angus shouted, for the big savage below him, hearing another
voice, was bristling afresh and suddenly started around the corner of
the building to investigate. Just then the pony either sighted or smelt
the bear, for he snorted, wheeled and broke into a gallop. "Run!" Angus
yelled. "Get behind that eating-camp. Try to climb it, quick!" And not
having time for more words he dropped from his perch, lit sprawling
alongside his rifle, seized it, and jumped around the corner into the
open in the wake of the grizzly, his hand hooked into the lever, while a
long soft-nose snicked home in the chamber.
The girl, now fully alive to her danger, was running for the corner of
the eating camp, and the grizzly, halfway between, was after her. So
much Angus saw at a glance, and then he caught the lumbering but swift
bulk fair center with the bead, and unhooked.
With the high-pitched, smacking voice of the rifle mingled the roar of
the wounded grizzly. He went heels over head like a shot rabbit, came on
his feet again facing the gun, took a second bullet as if it had been a
pellet of bird-shot, and coughing out a fighting roar that seemed to
hold all the bestial ferocity of the ages, came for Angus like a furry
tornado.
There is this about a grizzly which entitles him to respect: When he
charges, he charges home. This fact Angus knew very well. The bear was a
scant forty yards away. Angus caught the center of him with his sights,
and began to pump steadily. His entire attention was concentrated on
holding the sights, and otherwise the gun seemed to shoot itself.
Missing was next to impossible at that range, but so also was choice of
aim. "When anything's comin' for you close up," Rennie had once advised
him, "don't try to hit nowhere's special, but just hold plum' center and
keep shootin'." While Angus did not consciously remember this advice, he
followed it, with a dull wonder that the stream of soft-noses tearing
through the great brute's vitals did not stop him. His last shot was
fired at ten feet, and the hammer clicked down on an empty chamber. As
the brown bulk hurled itself upon him, he lunged the rifle barrel with
all his force into the yawning, white-tusked, red mouth. But as he tried
to leap aside a huge paw blurred for an instant before his eyes and then
blotted out the world. He went down, crushed and smothered as by the
weight of mountains.