TREED BY A GRIZZLY.
Several days later the three men were compelled to part when they were
approaching the border of the Navaho country.
Nick Wharton was not able to resist the temptation of following some
panther tracks which he found near the spot where they camped one
afternoon. He followed the trail into the thick woods, and the panther
sprang upon his shoulders before he was aware of its presence. He
killed it with his bowie knife, after a terrible struggle; but he was
so badly mauled that he had to be taken by his friends to the house of
a rancher near by.
Wild Bill agreed to stay and look after him here, while Buffalo Bill
went on alone to visit his friend Red Cloud, the chief of the Navahos.
* * * * *
It was a late New Mexican afternoon. Red Cloud, was out alone on a
hunt, and had just pitched his camp.
He was a tall, finely built, athletic young fellow, thoroughly trained
in all the craft and skill of the Indian.
None of his fellow braves could throw a tomahawk with more unerring
aim; none could shoot straighter, either with the rifle or with the bow.
Red Cloud lighted a fire of dry twigs, and set to work to fry some deer
meat--the result of his successful hunting on the previous evening. He
had crept down to the pool where the deer were wont to drink, and,
keeping well to windward of them, had shot a couple before the rest of
the herd took flight.
The stream beside which he had camped ran through wooded country, and
from time to time Red Cloud’s piercing black eyes roved around the
trees in his immediate vicinity, for he was too well trained to let an
enemy, whether man or beast, creep upon him unawares.
Nevertheless, as he took his fried steak from the fire and became
absorbed in eating it, with the keen appetite of a youthful hunter, he
narrowly escaped being caught.
Suddenly his quick ear heard the sound of the snapping of a twig, and,
turning round hastily, he saw an immense grizzly bear--by far the
biggest he had ever met--approaching swiftly toward him through the
trees.
The animal was running on all fours, with the peculiar, humped-up gait
of the grizzly; but, despite its ungainliness, it was wonderfully
quick. It had scented the meat and the man, and was evidently
determined to have both of them.
Red Cloud had fought grizzlies before, and knew full well that they
were about the most dangerous enemies a man could encounter. He seized
his bow, and sent an arrow whizzing into the flesh of the bear, just
below the shoulder.
The animal gave a howl of rage and pain, but came on as if nothing more
had happened to him than the mere pricking of a pin.
The Indian hastily launched another arrow, without any better effect,
and then threw down his bow and seized the rifle which lay on the
ground near by his camp fire. By this time the grizzly was not more
than twenty yards away. Red Cloud fired one shot, which wounded the
beast, but only served to further enrage it without doing any mortal
injury.
Then the man turned on his heel and fled to the nearest tree, hoping
to dodge the beast around its trunk and find a chance of getting in a
death shot.
But the grizzly was already at his heels, and, as he sprinted to the
tree, he could feel the hot breath of the angry bear upon his back.
He gained the shelter only a yard or two ahead of his enemy, and the
bear, carried on by the momentum of his speed, went about ten yards
beyond the trunk, giving the Indian a second or two in which to catch
his breath and bring his gun to his shoulder.
The animal turned with incredible swiftness and charged again. But Red
Cloud had dodged to the other side of the trunk, and met him with a
bullet squarely in the breast.
Before he could fire another shot with his repeater, the grizzly was
upon him, rearing upon its haunches.
The beast presented a terrible sight, that might well have inspired
terror even in the heart of a brave man like the young Indian hunter.
It was covered with blood from head to foot from its wounds. Its mouth
was wide open, exposing its long, cruel teeth and a terrible snarl; and
its forepaws, with their frightful claws extended, were raised to tear
the man to fragments.
Before Red Cloud could press the trigger again the rifle was dashed
from his hands by a terrific blow of one of the bear’s paws. Next
moment he was clasped in the beast’s merciless hug and borne to the
ground.
He abandoned all hope of life, but, with the game instinct of a
well-trained Indian, he managed to draw his hunting knife and deal the
beast several deep wounds in its side.
Roaring with pain, the grizzly released him for a moment, just as a
shot rang out from behind a near-by tree.
Hit through the head, the animal turned, with a vicious snarl, to meet
its new enemy. It took a few rapid bounds in the direction from which
the shot had come, and then rolled over on its side--stone-dead. It had
struggled for life and revenge with desperate tenacity, but a bullet
through the brain had settled it at last.
Buffalo Bill, with a smoking rifle in his hand, stepped out from behind
a tree and walked toward the prostrate Indian, glancing at the body of
the bear as he passed it, to make sure that it was really dead.
As he approached, the young Indian lifted himself slowly and painfully
upon his elbow, and said:
“Brother, I thank you.”
Then, as he tried to rise to his feet, he was overcome by the loss of
blood from the many wounds inflicted upon him by the claws of the bear,
and he sank back unconscious.
Buffalo Bill promptly attended to his injuries, bandaging the wounds
and stopping the flow of blood as cleverly as any surgeon could have
done.
This accomplished, he forced some brandy and water from his flask
between the Indian’s teeth, and gradually brought him back to
consciousness.
“Let my brother rest quietly, so that his wounds will not reopen,”
said Buffalo Bill, as Red Cloud opened his eyes and gazed gratefully
at him. The Indian, trained in a severe school of discipline, did as
he was bidden. Buffalo Bill would not allow him even to talk until his
faintness had passed away.
The border king threw fresh twigs on the fire and made some strong
broth, which Red Cloud drank eagerly.
The Indian, who had been watching him in grave silence, presently said:
“My brother has saved my life for the second time, and Red Cloud is
grateful. But my brother is on a journey, and he must not delay himself
upon my account. Let him place my rifle by my side and some meat near
by, and Red Cloud will wait until he is strong enough to return to the
tents of his people.”
“No, Red Cloud, you need not think I am going to leave you like this.
You are not in a fit condition to travel. We will camp together until
you can ride to your village.
“Indeed, it was you that I was coming to see. I have traveled all the
way from Kansas to talk with you and your braves, and tell you the
words of the Great White Father. Some of the tribes to the north have
risen against him and dug up the tomahawk to smite the palefaces, but
they have themselves been smitten, and they will be sorely punished.”
In a few brief but rapid sentences Buffalo Bill told the young Navaho
chief about what had happened at Fort Larned.
Red Cloud replied that he had personally every desire to live on good
terms with the white men, and so had most of his tribe, but there were
some trouble makers among the young braves who were always talking war.
However, nothing was likely to be done in the matter until his return
to the village, then he would call a war council and give Buffalo Bill
an opportunity of explaining the matter to the whole tribe.