A FOOLHARDY SHOT
Though the days were long now, for this was July, when dawn comes in
this land before two o'clock in the morning, it was scarce daylight when
Skipper Ed and Jimmy in their big trap boat, and with a skiff in tow in
which were stowed his seven sledge dogs, hoisted sail and bore down the
bay before a westerly breeze.
And as they passed beyond the point which separated the cove in which
Abel's cabin stood from the cove where their own cabin stood, they
discovered Abel's boat almost abreast of them, and within hailing
distance. Bobby and Jimmy exchanged vociferous greetings, and Skipper Ed
and Abel converged their courses until the boats were so close as to
permit of conversation.
It was a glorious morning. The air was crisp and fragrant with whiffs of
forest perfumes borne down to them from the near-by shore. Banks of
brilliant red and orange in the eastern sky foretold the coming of the
sun. The sea sparkled. Gulls and other wild fowl soared overhead or rode
lightly upon the swell. A school of shining caplin shimmered on the
surface of the water. Here and there a seal lifted its curious head for
a moment, and then disappeared. At intervals a grampus, with a
startling, roaring blow, raised its great black back above the surface,
and then sank again from view.
On barren hillsides patches of snow, remnants of mighty drifts, lay
against the dark moist rocks like great white sheets, and here and there
miniature ice pans rose and fell upon the swell, reminders of the long
cold winter, for winter in this far northern clime is ever reluctant to
relinquish its grasp upon the earth.
The glow in the east disappeared at length, and then the sun rose to
caress them with his warmth. Presently mirages appeared. Islands seemed
to sit upon the tops of other islands, or to hang suspended in the air,
and every distant shore became distorted in the brilliant July sunlight.
"That's the way a good many of us look at things in this life," said
Skipper Ed. "We see the mirage, and not the thing itself. Hopes loom up
and look real, when they're just false. It's a great thing to be able to
tell the differences between what is real and what is just a mirage."
The wind fell away to a dead calm before noon, and though Abel and
Skipper Ed worked at their heavy sculling oars, and Bobby and Jimmy and
Mrs. Abel at the other oars, the boats, laden as they were, and retarded
by the skiffs in tow, made such slow progress that at length they
stopped at a convenient island to boil the kettle and cook their dinner
and wait for a returning breeze.
Dinner was a jolly feast, simple as it was, for in this land folk live
upon simple food and are satisfied with little variety, for their
appetites and desires are not glutted, as ours so often are. And many
things that you and I deem necessary they do not miss, because they have
never had them, and more often than not have never so much as heard of
them. And perhaps it is just as well, and their happiness is just as
complete.
A cod which Bobby caught with his jigger, was boiled in sea water,
because sea water salted it to just the right flavor. This was the first
cod of the season, and the first cod is always a delicacy, and so they
deemed it, together with some of Mrs. Abel's bread, and a pot of tea
sweetened with a drop of molasses.
Then Skipper Ed and Abel shaved tobacco from black plugs, and Skipper Ed
and Abel and Mrs. Abel talked while they waited for the wind to rise
that was to carry them on their journey.
It was a rocky, irregular island upon which they had halted, with rocks
sloping up from the water's edge, and on the top some struggling bunches
of brush. It was not a large island, but nevertheless Bobby and Jimmy
deemed it worthy of exploration, and so, bent upon discovery, they left
their elders to talk, while they wandered about.
"There's a dotar on the shore," exclaimed Bobby, stopping suddenly and
indicating the dark body of a harbor seal sunning itself comfortably
upon the surface of the smooth, flat rocks near water. "Wait here,
Jimmy, till I get my gun and try a shot at him."
And away he ran, presently to return with his gun--the same that Abel
had found in the boat at the time he discovered Bobby. It was
double-barreled, and a shotgun, but now both barrels were loaded with
round ball. And loaded with ball it was effective enough at fifty yards
or so, but far from certain in accuracy at a greater distance.
"Let's work down through the brush as far as we can," suggested Bobby,
"and then I'll crawl down on him, if he'll let me, for a good close
shot."
Slowly they crawled, and cautiously, looking at nothing and paying
attention to nothing but the seal, which, presently becoming conscious
of danger perhaps, grew restless; and though Bobby was not as near his
game as he should have wished, he threw up his gun and fired. The
bullet, after the manner of bullets fired from shotguns at long range,
went wide of its mark, and the seal, after the manner of seals, slipped
gently into the water and was gone.
"There he goes!" exclaimed Bobby in disgust, springing to his feet. "If
I had only had a rifle!"
"Yes," said Jimmy, "you'd have--"
Jimmy's sentence was cut short by the sound of a heavy tread behind
them, and wheeling about our young hunters discovered a big polar bear,
in the edge of the brush and not twenty yards away. It had apparently
been aroused from an afternoon sleep, and not being partial to human
society was now bent upon an expeditious departure from the vicinity.
Quick as a flash Bobby raised his gun to his shoulder.
"Don't shoot! Don't shoot!" warned Jimmy.
But Bobby did not heed the warning. The bullet from the undischarged
barrel went crashing into the animal's shoulder. The bear stumbled, bit
furiously at the wound, and then in a rage charged upon his now
defenseless enemies.
Polar bears, unless very hungry, or unless
placed in a position where they must defend themselves, will rarely
attack man. But when wounded they are more likely than not to become
furious, and their fury knows no bounds. Bent upon revenge they will
attack viciously and are dangerous enemies. The hunter who wounds a
polar bear without first taking the precaution to prepare for defense or
retreat, tries an exceedingly dangerous experiment.
[Illustration: Quick as a flash Bobby raised his gun to his shoulder]
This was exactly what Bobby had done. The instant he fired the shot he
realized that he had not reached a vital spot. In his eagerness to
secure the bear he took the chance of his single bullet disabling it. A
reckless game it was, but he played it and lost.
Jimmy was unarmed and Bobby had no time to reload, for he knew the bear
would charge immediately.
"Run, Jimmy! Run for your life!" he shouted.
But Jimmy needed no warning. He was already putting into action all the
speed he could muster, and away went Bobby, also.
Jimmy chose the open space nearer the shore, Bobby a more direct, though
more obstructed, course across the island, but both took the general
direction of camp. As the two diverged the bear, probably because he was
more plainly in view, chose to follow Jimmy, and followed him so
strenuously and with such singleness of purpose that he was presently
at Jimmy's very heels--so close at his heels, indeed, that had Jimmy
stopped or hesitated or lessened his speed for an instant, the
infuriated beast would have been upon him.
Bobby was quick to discover that the bear had left his own trail, and he
was also quick to discover Jimmy's imminent danger. There was no other
help at hand. If Jimmy was to be saved, he must save him. The thought
crossed his mind like a flash of lightning. He did not lose his
head--Bobby never lost his head in an emergency. He thought of
everything. He feared there was not time to reload, but it was the only
thing to do. As he ran he drew two shells, loaded with ball, from his
pocket. For the fraction of a minute he halted, "broke" his gun, dropped
the shells into place, snapped the gun back and threw it to his
shoulder, but in the brief interval that had elapsed the bear and Jimmy
had so far gained upon him that the distance between him and the bear
loomed up before him now as almost hopelessly long. If he only had a
rifle, instead of his shotgun! But it was the last hope, and whispering
a prayer to God to send the bullet straight, with nerves as tense as
steel, he pulled the trigger.
His heart leaped with joy as he saw the bear stop, bite again at the
wound, this time near its hind quarters, and then with a roar of rage
turn from Jimmy toward himself.
He would not risk another shot at that distance. He would wait now for
his enemy to come to close quarters, and with nimble fingers he slipped
a loaded shell into the empty barrel, that when the time came to shoot
he might have two bullets at his disposal instead of one. He had never
felt so perfectly cool and steady in his life, nor so absolutely
unafraid, as now, while he stood erect and waited.
The bear was not twenty feet away when he fired his first shot. It
staggered, shook its head for a moment, and then rushed on. Bobby drew a
careful bead and fired again. The bear fell forward, pawed the rocks,
regained its feet, and lunged at Bobby.