The ledge where Thor and Muskwa lay caught the first gleams of the morning
sun, and as the sun rose higher the ledge grew warmer and warmer, and Thor,
when he awoke, merely stretched himself and made no effort to rise. After
his wounds and the _sapoos oowin_ and the feast in the valley he was
feeling tremendously fine and comfortable, and he was in no very great
haste to leave this golden pool of sunlight. For a long time he looked
steadily and curiously at Muskwa. In the chill of the night the little cub
had snuggled up close between the warmth of Thor's huge forearms, and still
lay there, whimpering in his babyish way as he dreamed.
After a time Thor did something that he had never been guilty of before--he
sniffed gently at the soft little ball between his paws, and just once his
big flat red tongue touched the cub's face; and Muskwa, perhaps still
dreaming of his mother, snuggled closer. As little white children have won
the hearts of savages who were about to slay them, so Muskwa had come
strangely into the life of Thor.
The big grizzly was still puzzled. Not only was he struggling against an
unaccountable dislike of all cubs in general, but also against the firmly
established habits of ten years of aloneness. Yet he was beginning to
comprehend that there was something very pleasant and companionable in the
nearness of Muskwa. With the coming of man a new emotion had entered into
his being--perhaps only the spark of an emotion. Until one has enemies, and
faces dangers, one cannot fully appreciate friendship--and it may be that
Thor, who now confronted real enemies and a real danger for the first time,
was beginning to understand what friendship meant. Also it was drawing near
to his mating season, and about Muskwa was the scent of his mother. And so
as Muskwa continued to bask and dream in the sunshine, there was a growing
content in Thor.
He looked down into the valley, shimmering in the wet of the night's rain,
and he saw nothing to rouse discontent; he sniffed the air, and it was
filled with the unpolluted sweetness of growing grass, of flowers, and
balsam, and water fresh from the clouds.
Thor began to lick his wound, and it was this movement that roused Muskwa.
The cub lifted his head. He blinked at the sun for a moment--then rubbed
his face sleepily with his tiny paw and stood up. Like all youngsters, he
was ready for another day, in spite of the hardships and toil of the
preceding one.
While Thor still lay restfully looking down into the valley, Muskwa began
investigating the crevices in the rock wall, and tumbled about among the
boulders on the ledge.
From the valley Thor turned his eyes to the cub. There was curiosity in his
attitude as he watched Muskwa's antics and queer tumblings among the rocks.
Then he rose cumbrously and shook himself.
For at least five minutes he stood looking down into the valley, and
sniffing the wind, as motionless as though carven out of rock. And Muskwa,
perking up his little ears, came and stood beside him, his sharp little
eyes peering from Thor off into sunlit space, and then back to Thor again,
as if wondering what was about to happen next.
The big grizzly answered the question. He turned along the rock shelf and
began descending into the valley. Muskwa tagged behind, just as he had
followed the day before. The cub felt twice as big and fully twice as
strong as yesterday, and he no longer was obsessed by that uncomfortable
yearning for his mother's milk. Thor had graduated him quickly, and he was
a meat-eater. And he knew they were returning to where they had feasted
last night.
They had descended half the distance of the slope when the wind brought
something to Thor. A deep-chested growl rolled out of him as he stopped for
a moment, the thick ruff about his neck bristling ominously. The scent he
had caught came from the direction of his cache, and it was an odour which
he was not in a humour to tolerate in this particular locality. Strongly he
smelled the presence of another bear. This would not have excited him under
ordinary conditions, and it would not have excited him now had the presence
been that of a female bear. But the scent was that of a he-bear, and it
drifted strongly up a rock-cut ravine that ran straight down toward the
balsam patch in which he had hidden the caribou.
Thor stopped to ask himself no questions. Growling under his breath, he
began to descend so swiftly that Muskwa had great difficulty in keeping up
with him. Not until they came to the edge of the plain that overlooked the
lake and the balsams did they stop. Muskwa's little jaws hung open as he
panted. Then his ears pricked forward, he stared, and suddenly every muscle
in his small body became rigid.
Seventy-five yards below them their cache was being outraged. The robber
was a huge black bear. He was a splendid outlaw. He was, perhaps, three
hundred pounds lighter than Thor, but he stood almost as high, and in the
sunlight his coat shone with the velvety gloss of sable--the biggest and
boldest bear that had entered Thor's domain in many a day. He had pulled
the caribou carcass from its hiding-place and was eating as Thor and Muskwa
looked down on him.
After a moment Muskwa peered up questioningly at Thor. "What are we going
to do?" he seemed to ask. "He's got our dinner!"
Slowly and very deliberately Thor began picking his way down those last
seventy-five yards. He seemed to be in no hurry bow.
When he reached the edge of the meadow, perhaps thirty or forty yards from
the big invader, he stopped again. There was nothing particularly ugly in
his attitude, but the ruff about his shoulders was bigger than Muskwa had
ever seen it before.
The black looked up from his feast, and for a full half minute they eyed
each other. In a slow, pendulum-like motion the grizzly's huge head swung
from side to side; the black was as motionless as a sphinx.
Four or five feet from Thor stood Muskwa. In a small-boyish sort of way he
knew that something was going to happen soon, and in that same small-boyish
way he was ready to put his stub of a tail between his legs and flee with
Thor, or advance and fight with him. His eyes were curiously attracted by
that pendulum-like swing of Thor's head. All nature understood that swing.
Man had learned to understand it. "Look out when a grizzly rolls his head!"
is the first commandment of the bear-hunter in the mountains.
The big black understood, and like other bears in Thor's domain, he should
have slunk a little backward, turned about and made his exit. Thor gave
him ample time. But the black was a new bear in the valley--and he was not
only that: he was a powerful bear, and unwhipped; and he had overlorded a
range of his own. He stood his ground.
The first growl of menace that passed between the two came from the black.
Again Thor advanced, slowly and deliberately--straight for the robber.
Muskwa followed halfway and then stopped and squatted himself on his belly.
Ten feet from the carcass Thor paused again; and now his huge head swung
more swiftly back and forth, and a low rumbling thunder came from between
his half-open jaws. The black's ivory fangs snarled; Muskwa whined.
Again Thor advanced, a foot at a time, and now his gaping jaws almost
touched the ground, and his huge body was hunched low.
When no more than the length of a yardstick separated them there came a
pause. For perhaps thirty seconds they were like two angry men, each trying
to strike terror to the other's heart by the steadiness of his look.
Muskwa shook as if with the ague, and whined--softly and steadily he
whined, and the whine reached Thor's ears. What happened after that began
so quickly that Muskwa was struck dumb with terror, and he lay flattened
out on the earth as motionless as a stone.
With that grinding, snarling grizzly roar, which is unlike any other animal
cry in the world, Thor flung himself at the black. The black reared a
little--just enough to fling himself backward easily as they came together
breast to breast. He rolled upon his back, but Thor was too old a fighter
to be caught by that first vicious ripping stroke of the black's hind foot,
and he buried his four long flesh-rending teeth to the bone of his enemy's
shoulder. At the same time he struck a terrific cutting stroke with his
left paw.
Thor was a digger, and his claws were dulled; the black was not a digger,
but a tree-climber, and his claws were like knives. And like knives they
buried themselves in Thor's wounded shoulder, and the blood spurted forth
afresh.
With a roar that seemed to set the earth trembling, the huge grizzly lunged
backward and reared himself to his full nine feet. He had given the black
warning. Even after their first tussle his enemy might have retreated and
he would not have pursued. Now it was a fight to the death! The black had
done more than ravage his cache. He had opened the man-wound!
A minute before Thor had been fighting for law and right--without great
animosity or serious desire to kill. Now, however, he was terrible. His
mouth was open, and it was eight inches from jaw to jaw; his lips were
drawn up until his white teeth and his red gums were bared; muscles stood
out like cords on his nostrils, and between his eyes was a furrow like the
cleft made by an axe in the trunk of a pine. His eyes shone with the glare
of red garnets, their greenish-black pupils almost obliterated by the
ferocious fire that was in them. Man, facing Thor in this moment, would
have known that only one would come out alive.
Thor was not a "stand-up" fighter. For perhaps six or seven seconds he
remained erect, but as the black advanced a step he dropped quickly to all
fours.
The black met him halfway, and after this--for many minutes--Muskwa hugged
closer and closer to the earth while with gleaming eyes he watched the
battle. It was such a fight as only the jungles and the mountains see, and
the roar of it drifted up and down the valley.
Like human creatures the two giant beasts used their powerful forearms
while with fangs and hind feet they ripped and tore. For two minutes they
were in a close and deadly embrace, both rolling on the ground, now one
under and then the other. The black clawed ferociously; Thor used chiefly
his teeth and his terrible right hind foot. With his forearms he made no
effort to rend the black, but used them to hold and throw his enemy. He was
fighting to get _under_, as he had flung himself under the caribou he had
disembowelled.
Again and again Thor buried his long fangs in the other's flesh; but in
fang-fighting the black was even quicker than he, and his right shoulder
was being literally torn to pieces when their jaws met in midair. Muskwa
heard the clash of them; he heard the grind of teeth on teeth, the
sickening crunch of bone.
Then suddenly the black was flung upon his side as though his neck had been
broken, and Thor was at his throat. Still the black fought, his gaping and
bleeding jaws powerless now as the grizzly closed his own huge jaws on the
jugular.
Muskwa stood up. He was shivering still, but with a new and strange
emotion. This was not play, as he and his mother had played. For the first
time he was looking upon _battle_, and the thrill of it sent the blood hot
and fast through his little body. With a faint, puppyish snarl he darted
in. His teeth sank futilely into the thick hair and tough hide of the
black's rump. He pulled and he snarled; he braced himself with his forefeet
and tugged at his mouthful of hair, filled with a blind and unaccountable
rage.
The black twisted himself upon his back, and one of his hind feet raked
Thor from chest to vent. That stroke would have disembowelled a caribou or
a deer; it left a red, open, bleeding wound three feet long on Thor.
Before it could be repeated, the grizzly swung himself sidewise, and the
second blow caught Muskwa. The flat of the black's foot struck him, and for
twenty feet he was sent like a stone out of a sling-shot. He was not cut,
but he was stunned.
In that same moment Thor released his hold on his enemy's throat, and
swung two or three feet to one side. He was dripping blood. The black's
shoulders, chest, and neck were saturated with it; huge chunks had been
torn from his body. He made an effort to rise, and Thor was on him again.
This time Thor got his deadliest of all holds. His great jaws clamped in a
death-grip over the upper part of the black's nose. One terrific grinding
crunch, and the fight was over. The black could not have lived after that.
But this fact Thor did not know. It was now easy for him to rip with those
knifelike claws on his hind feet. He continued to maul and tear for ten
minutes after the black was dead.
When Thor finally quit the scene of battle was terrible to look upon. The
ground was torn up and red; it was covered with great strips of black hide
and pieces of flesh; and the black, on the under side, was torn open from
end to end.
Two miles away, tense and white and scarcely breathing as they looked
through their glasses, Langdon and Bruce crouched beside a rock on the
mountainside. At that distance they had witnessed the terrific spectacle,
but they could not see the cub. As Thor stood panting and bleeding over
his lifeless enemy, Langdon lowered his glass.
"My God!" he breathed.
Bruce sprang to his feet.
"Come on!" he cried. "The black's dead! If we hustle we can get our
grizzly!"
And down in the meadow Muskwa ran to Thor with a bit of warm black hide in
his mouth, and Thor lowered his great bleeding head, and just once his red
tongue shot out and caressed Muskwa's face. For the little tan-faced cub
had proved himself; and it may be that Thor had seen and understood.