AN UNWELCOME VISITOR.
Morning came clear and pleasant, and the travelers were early astir
preparing breakfast, and getting ready to resume their journey.
“Grizzly ’round not long ’go,” said Vic, as he turned a huge dice of
meat before the fire.
“Indeed!” exclaimed Kent. “Why do you think there was?”
“Seen his tracks,” replied Vic; “fresh, too.”
“I hope he is not near here now,” said Marion, involuntarily, as the
tales of the grizzly bear’s ferocity she had heard flitted through her
mind.
“Wal,” said Wild Nat, “I shouldn’t be s’prised ef he warn’t more’n a
hundred miles off. A grizzly ain’t a very nice playthin’. I could tell
some yarns about ’em thet would make ye open yer peepers. They are jist
the all-firedest, meanest thing tew fight thet ever run. Take a big one
an’ I’d ruther fight twenty Pawnees single-handed, unless I’d got the
advantage of him. They’re jist the orneriest critters thet travels.”
“Thet’s a fact,” said Vic. “I hev an idee thet— Varmints, thar’s the ole
fellow himself!”
Every man grasped his gun and turned on the defensive, as a huge grizzly
bear suddenly appeared from behind the rocks and bushes on the right.
Marion shrunk back with a white face, and stood watching his movements
breathlessly.
He was a most majestic fellow, large and ferocious in appearance, and
evidently had no intention of leaving immediately. Walking up toward
them he stopped a few yards distant, and raising his huge body on his
hind legs, deliberately surveyed the party before him.
“Oh, de Lord,” ejaculated Scip, “we’s all dead men.”
“Shet yer trap,” growled Wild Nat. “Down on yer knees, all of ye an’ git
yer knives out.”
The men all dropped as directed, and as the bear slowly advanced, Wild
Nat hastily removed the cap from his gun, replacing it with a fresh one.
The bear advanced to within a few feet of them, licking his huge jaws,
as if in anticipation of a coming feast. Kent raised his rifle to fire.
“Hold thar,” exclaimed Nat; “don’t fire, for yer life! Now, Vic!”
The bear was now close, and, raising himself, rushed forward with a
ferocious growl. At that moment, Vic drew his attention by throwing his
cap aside, and in the momentary pause Wild Nat raised his rifle and
fired both barrels into the monster’s eye. With a fearful roar the
grizzly pitched forward and lay stretched lifeless on the ground.
“Thet war a neat little transacktion,” said the trapper, coolly
surveying the beast, “an’ we ’scaped bein’ strung tew mince-meat by it.
It war a good shot.”
“Why did you tell me not to fire?” asked Kent.
“Why? Beavers an’ catamounts! Ef ye’d fired, ye’d ’a’ bin dead in tew
minnits. _You’d_ have aimed at his head, an’ ye mought as well try tew
shoot through one of them ’ere rocks as tew try tew kill a grizzly by
shootin’ his head. Ye can’t dew it nohow. It jist maddens ’em an’ then
thar’s lively times. I had a grizzly chase me once.”
“Golly,” ejaculated Scip, “I bet I’d run!”
“Humph,” said Wild Nat, contemptuously, “ye mought run an’ be hanged.
Much good it would do ye. I had a dorg in them days, an’ by virtew of
his sooperior powers as an animile, I managed tew sarcumvent the
critter. He war a powerful animile, thet dorg war. He’d run a leetle the
fastest of any thin’ out. Lay to: this meat’s done.”
“What sort of a dog?” asked Scip, as he obeyed the trapper’s orders.
“Hound,” replied Nat; “he’d ketch a live deer in forty rods when the
deer had ten rods the start. Howsomever,” added the trapper, “thar war
one disadvantage about him. He’d git tired. After a run of ten miles he
war clean tired out. But, he would go like lightnin’. Take it on open
ground an’ he couldn’t well be beat. It’s dangerous runnin’ dorgs in the
woods. Bill Stevens hed a splendid hound thet would jist measure sile
tew beat all. When thet critter got a-goin’ it war hard tellin’ what he
war, for all ye could see war a streak, an’ I’ve seen a streak ahind
thet dorg twenty yards long, he went so fast; ’peared like he spread
over thet distance like a komit’s tail, ye know. But his speed war the
’casion of a great catastrophe, to him. Howsomever, it war a gain in the
long run.”
“What was it?” asked Kent, laughing, as the trapper paused to help
himself to another piece of meat.
“It happened in this way. We war out huntin’ one day, an’ got arter a
deer. It war in the woods, an’ the dorg got his eye on the game an’ war
jist streakin’ it over the ground, an’ bein’ so engaged he didn’t notice
whar he war goin’ an’ so happened tew run ag’in a tree an’ split him
clean in two, length-ways. Bill jist run up an’ grabbed up the pieces,
an’ clapped ’em together, an’ the dorg started on. As he started, Bill
see’d the mistake he’d made, but it war too late then. In his hurry he’d
clapped the dorg together so two legs war up an’ two down, an’ though he
felt sorry at the time, he see in a short time thet it war a great
advantage, for when two of his legs got tired the dorg jist whipped over
on t’other two, an’ kep’ on same as ever.”
Shouts of laughter greeted the recital of this extraordinary occurrence,
but the trapper never relaxed his grave aspect, standing with the utmost
gravity amid the peals of laughter which convulsed the remainder of the
company, apparently unconscious that he had said any thing particularly
funny or incredible.
“See here, Nat,” said Wayne, as Vic proceeded to cut off some portions
of the bear-meat, “why did you order us to drop on our knees before you
fired?”
“For this,” said the trapper. “I warn’t sure how the beast would act.
Thet’s the Injin way of doin’. All git on their knees, an’ when the
grizzly comes up one of ’em tackles him, an’ thet draws his attention,
an’ then the others pile on tew him, an’ he’s gener’ly dispatched ’thout
any one gittin’ ser’usly hurt. It’s all the way ye kin do when ye don’t
hev guns, or a chance to use ’em ef ye do hev ’em.”
“Exactly,” replied Kent. “I understand now, but it strikes me I
shouldn’t like to have a battle with one every day.”
“No more should I. But it’s ’bout time we war on the move, I reckon.
It’s gittin’ late,” said Vic, rising to his feet.
“Thet’s so,” exclaimed Wild Nat; “so let’s tew hoss. Come on, Kent.”
Ten minutes later they were on their way.
It was a beautiful day, with an unusually clear atmosphere, and the tops
of the distant mountains shone blue through the haze. Their way lay
through a pleasant country, and, as they were gradually leaving the
regions of the mountains, the timber increased in plenty and variety.
Toward morning they came in view of Laramie Peak, while far to the
south-east rose the dark summits of the Black Hills.
“How far distant is Fort Laramie?” asked Marion, as she gazed through
the blue distance toward the hills.
“’Bout twenty miles,” replied Vic. “We hain’t made a very big journey
to-day. Got started too late. Howsomever, we’ll git thar in purty good
season to-morrow.”
“Gallinippers!” ejaculated Wild Nat, suddenly, in a suppressed tone.
“Thar’s Injuns!”
“Where?” was the simultaneous question from the startled party.
“Thar!” replied Wild Nat, pointing toward the north-west with his right
hand.
Four pair of eyes examined the horizon in the direction indicated, but
two only saw what they sought. Vic, sharper sighted than the others, at
once detected the enemy.
“Where are they, Vic?” queried Marion, shading her eyes with her hand,
and gazing earnestly away toward the point indicated. “I can see
nothing.”
“Look here,” said Vic. “Ye see thet hill ’way yonder? Wal, jist tew the
left of that ye can see—if yer eyes are sharp—a lot of leetle dark
movin’ objects. Them’s ’em.”
“Oh, yes! But how far distant they are. Mere specks on the horizon,”
said the fair girl, as she watched them.
“Humph! It won’t take ’em long to git nearer,” said Vic, “but as we’re
purty clus to the fort I don’t feel very uneasy. They hain’t seen us; we
are a small party, ye know. Move on!”
The march was resumed and they were soon out of sight of their dreaded
enemy. Sunset found them about twelve miles from the fort, when they
concluded to pass the night, as their animals gave evidence of
considerable fatigue. They had not allowed them much time to feed or
rest since morning, and a good camping-spot being found, they prepared
for the night’s repose. The spot selected was in a small clump of
timber, through which ran a clear, purling brook. A fire was kindled
beside a fallen trunk, some meat for supper roasted, and then the little
camp relapsed into slumber.