The creek which Thor was following was a tributary of the Babine, and he
was headed pretty nearly straight for the Skeena. As he was travelling
upstream the country was becoming higher and rougher. He had come perhaps
seven or eight miles from the summit of the divide when he found Muskwa.
From this point the slopes began to assume a different aspect. They were
cut up by dark, narrow gullies, and broken by enormous masses of rocks,
jagged cuffs, and steep slides of shale. The creek became noisier and more
difficult to follow.
Thor was now entering one of his strongholds: a region which contained a
thousand hiding-places, if he had wanted to hide; a wild, uptorn country
where it was not difficult for him to kill big game, and where he was
certain that the man-smell would not follow him.
For half an hour after leaving the mass of rocks where he had encountered
Muskwa, Thor lumbered on as if utterly oblivious of the fact that the cub
was following. But he could hear him and smell him.
Muskwa was having a hard time of it. His fat little body and his fat little
legs were unaccustomed to this sort of journeying, but he was a game
youngster, and only twice did he whimper in that half-hour--once he toppled
off a rock into the edge of the creek, and again when he came down too hard
on the porcupine quill in his foot.
At last Thor abandoned the creek and turned up a deep ravine, which he
followed until he came to a dip, or plateau-like plain, halfway up a broad
slope. Here he found a rock on the sunny side of a grassy knoll, and
stopped. It may be that little Muskwa's babyish friendship, the caress of
his soft little red tongue at just the psychological moment, and his
perseverance in following Thor had all combined to touch a responsive chord
in the other's big brute heart, for after nosing about restlessly for a few
moments Thor stretched himself out beside the rock. Not until then did the
utterly exhausted little tan-faced cub lie down, but when he did lie down
he was so dead tired that he was sound asleep in three minutes.
Twice again during the early part of the afternoon the _sapoos oowin_
worked on Thor, and he began to feel hungry. It was not the sort of hunger
to be appeased by ants and grubs, or even gophers and whistlers. It may be,
too, that he guessed how nearly starved little Muskwa was. The cub had not
once opened his eyes, and he still lay in his warm pool of sunshine when
Thor made up his mind to go on.
It was about three o'clock, a particularly quiet and drowsy part of a late
June or early July day in a northern mountain valley. The whistlers had
piped until they were tired, and lay squat out in the sunshine on their
rocks; the eagles soared so high above the peaks that they were mere dots;
the hawks, with meat-filled crops, had disappeared into the timber; goat
and sheep were lying down far up toward the sky-line, and if there were any
grazing animals near they were well fed and napping.
The mountain hunter knew that this was the hour when he should scan the
green slopes and the open places between the clumps of timber for bears,
and especially for flesh-eating bears.
It was Thor's chief prospecting hour. Instinct told him that when all
other creatures were well fed and napping he could move more openly and
with less fear of detection. He could find his game, and watch it.
Occasionally he would kill a goat or a sheep or a caribou in broad
daylight, for over short distances he could run faster than either a goat
or a sheep, and as fast as a caribou. But chiefly he killed at sunset or in
the darkness of early evening.
Thor rose from beside the rock with a prodigious whoof that roused Muskwa.
The cub got up, blinked at Thor and then at the sun, and shook himself
until he fell down.
Thor eyed the black and tan mite a bit sourly. After the _sapoos oowin_ he
was craving red, juicy flesh, just as a very hungry man yearns for a thick
porterhouse instead of lady fingers or mayonnaise salad--flesh and plenty
of it; and how he could hunt down and kill a caribou with that half-starved
but very much interested cub at his heels puzzled him.
Muskwa himself seemed to understand and answer the question. He ran a dozen
yards ahead of Thor, then stopped and looked back impudently, his little
ears perked forward, and with the look in his face of a small boy proving
to his father that he is perfectly qualified to go on his first rabbit
hunt.
With another _whoof_ Thor started along the slope in a spurt that brought
him up to Muskwa immediately, and with a sudden sweep of his right paw he
sent the cub rolling a dozen feet behind him, a manner of speech that said
plainly enough, "That's where you belong if you're going hunting with me!"
Then Thor lumbered slowly on, eyes and ears and nostrils keyed for the
hunt. He descended until he was not more than a hundred yards above the
creek, and he no longer sought out the easiest trail, but the rough and
broken places. He travelled slowly and in a zigzag fashion, stealing
cautiously around great masses of boulders, sniffing up each coulee that he
came to, and investigating the timber clumps and windfalls.
At one time he would be so high up that he was close to the bare shale, and
again so low down that he walked in the sand and gravel of the creek. He
caught many scents in the wind, but none that held or deeply interested
him. Once, up near the shale, he smelled goat; but he never went above the
shale for meat. Twice he smelled sheep, and late in the afternoon he saw a
big ram looking down on him from a precipitous crag a hundred feet above.
Lower down his nose touched the trails of porcupines, and often his head
hung over the footprints of caribou as he sniffed the air ahead.
There were other bears in the valley, too. Mostly these had travelled along
the creek-bottom, showing they were blacks or cinnamons. Once Thor struck
the scent of another grizzly, and he rumbled ill-humouredly.
Not once in the two hours after they left the sunrock did Thor pay any
apparent attention to Muskwa, who was growing hungrier and weaker as the
day lengthened. No boy that ever lived was gamer than the little tan-faced
cub. In the rough places he stumbled and fell frequently; up places that
Thor could make in a single step he had to fight desperately to make his
way; three times Thor waded through the creek and Muskwa half drowned
himself in following; he was battered and bruised and wet and his foot hurt
him--but he followed. Sometimes he was close to Thor, and at others he had
to run to catch up. The sun was setting when Thor at last found game, and
Muskwa was almost dead.
He did not know why Thor flattened his huge bulk suddenly alongside a rock
at the edge of a rough meadow, from which they could look down into a small
hollow. He wanted to whimper, but he was afraid. And if he had ever wanted
his mother at any time in his short life he wanted her now. He could not
understand why she had left him among the rocks and had never come back;
that tragedy Langdon and Bruce were to discover a little later. And he
could not understand why she did not come to him now. This was just about
his nursing hour before going to sleep for the night, for he was a March
cub, and, according to the most approved mother-bear regulations, should
have had milk for another month.
He was what Metoosin, the Indian, would have called _munookow_--that is, he
was very soft. Being a bear, his birth had not been like that of other
animals. His mother, like all mother-bears in a cold country, had brought
him into life a long time before she had finished her winter nap in her
den. He had come while she was asleep. For a month or six weeks after
that, while he was still blind and naked, she had given him milk, while she
herself neither ate nor drank nor saw the light of day. At the end of those
six weeks she had gone forth with him from her den to seek the first
mouthful of sustenance for herself. Not more than another six weeks had
passed since then, and Muskwa weighed about twenty pounds--that is, he had
weighed twenty pounds, but he was emptier now than he had ever been in his
life, and probably weighed a little less.
Three hundred yards below Thor was a clump of balsams, a small thick patch
that grew close to the edge of the miniature lake whose water crept around
the farther end of the hollow. In that clump there was a caribou--perhaps
two or three. Thor knew that as surely as though he saw them. The
_wenipow_, or "lying down," smell of hoofed game was as different from the
_nechisoo_, or "grazing smell," to Thor as day from night. One hung
elusively in the air, like the faint and shifting breath of a passing
woman's scented dress and hair; the other came hot and heavy, close to the
earth, like the odour of a broken bottle of perfume.
Even Muskwa now caught the scent as he crept up close behind the big
grizzly and lay down.
For fully ten minutes Thor did not move. His eyes took in the hollow, the
edge of the lake, and the approach to the timber, and his nose gauged the
wind as accurately as the pointing of a compass. The reason he remained
quiet was that he was almost on the danger-line. In other words, the
mountains and the sudden dip had formed a "split wind" in the hollow, and
had Thor appeared fifty yards above where he now crouched, the keen-scented
caribou would have got full wind of him.
With his little ears cocked forward and a new gleam of understanding in his
eyes, Muskwa now looked upon his first lesson in game-stalking. Crouched so
low that he seemed to be travelling on his belly, Thor moved slowly and
noiselessly toward the creek, the huge ruff just forward of his shoulders
standing out like the stiffened spine of a dog's back. Muskwa followed. For
fully a hundred yards Thor continued his detour, and three times in that
hundred yards he paused to sniff in the direction of the timber. At last he
was satisfied. The wind was full in his face, and it was rich with promise.
[Illustration: "Like the wind Thor bore down on the flank of the caribou,
swung a little to one side, and then without any apparent effort--still
like a huge ball--he bounded in and upward, and the short race was done."]
He began to advance, in a slinking, rolling, rock-shouldered motion,
taking shorter steps now, and with every muscle in his great body ready for
action. Within two minutes he reached the edge of the balsams, and there he
paused again. The crackling of underbrush came distinctly. The caribou were
up, but they were not alarmed. They were going forth to drink and graze.
Thor moved again, parallel to the sound. This brought him quickly to the
edge of the timber, and there he stood, concealed by foliage, but with the
lake and the short stretch of meadow in view. A big bull caribou came out
first. His horns were half grown, and in velvet. A two-year-old followed,
round and sleek and glistening like brown velvet in the sunset. For two
minutes the bull stood alert, eyes, ears, and nostrils seeking for
danger-signals; at his heels the younger animal nibbled less suspiciously
at the grass. Then lowering his head until his antlers swept back over his
shoulders the old bull started slowly toward the lake for his evening
drink. The two-year-old followed--and Thor came out softly from his
hiding-place.
For a single moment he seemed to gather himself--and then he started.
Fifty feet separated him from the caribou. He had covered half that
distance like a huge rolling ball when the animals heard him. They were off
like arrows sprung from the bow. But they were too late. It would have
taken a swift horse to beat Thor and he had already gained momentum.
Like the wind he bore down on the flank of the two-year-old, swung a little
to one side, and then without any apparent effort--still like a huge
ball--he bounded in and upward, and the short race was done.
His huge right arm swung over the two-year-old's shoulder, and as they went
down his left paw gripped the caribou's muzzle like a huge human hand. Thor
fell under, as he always planned to fall. He did not hug his victim to
death. Just once he doubled up one of his hind legs, and when it went back
the five knives it carried disembowelled the caribou. They not only
disembowelled him, but twisted and broke his ribs as though they were of
wood. Then Thor got up, looked around, and shook himself with a rumbling
growl which might have been either a growl of triumph or an invitation for
Muskwa to come to the feast.
If it was an invitation, the little tan-faced cab did not wait for a
second. For the first time he smelled and tasted the warm blood of meat.
And this smell and taste had come at the psychological moment in his life,
just as it had come in Thor's life years before. All grizzlies are not
killers of big game. In fact, very few of them are. Most of them are
chiefly vegetarians, with a meat diet of smaller animals, such as gophers,
whistling marmots, and porcupines. Now and then chance makes of a grizzly a
hunter of caribou, goat, sheep, deer, and even moose. Such was Thor. And
such, in days to come, would Muskwa be, even though he was a black and not
of the family Ursus Horribilis Ord.
For an hour the two feasted, not in the ravenous way of hungry dogs, but in
the slow and satisfying manner of gourmets. Muskwa, flat on his little
paunch, and almost between Thor's huge forearms, lapped up the blood and
snarled like a kitten as he ground tender flesh between his tiny teeth.
Thor, as in all his food-seeking, hunted first for the tidbits, though the
_sapoos oovin_ had made him as empty as a room without furniture. He pulled
out the thin leafs of fat from about the kidneys and bowels, and munched
at yard-long strings of it, his eyes half closed.
The last of the sun faded away from the mountains, and darkness followed
swiftly after the twilight. It was dark when they finished, and little
Muskwa was as wide as he was long.
Thor was the greatest of nature's conservators. With him nothing went to
waste that was good to eat, and at the present moment if the old bull
caribou had deliberately walked within his reach Thor in all probability
would not have killed him. He had food, and his business was to store that
food where it would be safe.
He went back to the balsam thicket, but the gorged cub now made no effort
to follow him. He was vastly contented, and something told him that Thor
would not leave the meat. Ten minutes later Thor verified his judgment by
returning. In his huge jaws he caught the caribou at the back of the neck.
Then he swung himself partly sidewise and began dragging the carcass toward
the timber as a dog might have dragged a ten-pound slab of bacon.
The young bull probably weighed four hundred pounds. Had he weighed eight
hundred, or even a thousand, Thor would still have dragged him--but had
the carcass weighed that much he would have turned straight around and
_backed_ with his load.
In the edge of the balsams Thor had already found a hollow in the ground.
He thrust the carcass into this hollow, and while Muskwa watched with a
great and growing interest, he proceeded to cover it over with dry needles,
sticks, a rotting tree butt, and a log. He did not rear himself up and
leave his "mark" on a tree as a warning to other bears. He simply nosed
round for a bit, and then went out of the timber.
Muskwa followed him now, and he had some trouble in properly navigating
himself under the handicap of his added weight. The stars were beginning to
fill the sky, and under these stars Thor struck straight up a steep and
rugged slope that led to the mountain-tops. Up and up he went, higher than
Muskwa had ever been. They crossed a patch of snow. And then they came to a
place where it seemed as if a volcano had disrupted the bowels of a
mountain. Man could hardly have travelled where Thor led Muskwa.
At last he stopped. He was on a narrow ledge, with a perpendicular wall of
rock at his back. Under him fell away the chaos of torn-up rock and shale.
Far below the valley lay a black and bottomless pit.
Thor lay down, and for the first time since his hurt in the other valley he
stretched out his head between his great arms, and heaved a deep and
restful sigh. Muskwa crept up close to him, so close that he was warmed by
Thor's body; and together they slept the deep and peaceful sleep of full
stomachs, while over them the stars grew brighter, and the moon came up to
flood the peaks and the valley in a golden splendour.