That night the big loneliness returned to Muskwa. Bruce and Metoosin were
so tired after their hard climb over the range that they went to bed early,
and Langdon followed them, leaving Pipoonaskoos where Bruce had first
thrown him.
Scarcely a move had Muskwa made after the discovery that had set his heart
beating a little faster. He did not know what death was, or what it meant,
and as Pipoonaskoos was so warm and soft he was sure that he would move
after a little. He had no inclination to fight him now.
Again it grew very, very still, and the stars filled the sky, and the fire
burned low. But Pipoonaskoos did not move. Gently at first, Muskwa began
nosing him and pulling at his silken hair, and as he did this he whimpered
softly, as if saying, "I don't want to fight you any more, Pipoonaskoos!
Wake up, and let's be friends!"
But still Pipoonaskoos did not stir, and at last Muskwa gave up all hope
of waking him. And still whimpering to his fat little enemy of the green
meadow how sorry he was that he had chased him, he snuggled close up to
Pipoonaskoos and in time went to sleep.
Langdon was first up in the morning, and when he came over to see how
Muskwa had fared during the night he suddenly stopped, and for a full
minute he stood without moving, and then a low, strange cry broke from his
lips. For Muskwa and Pipoonaskoos were snuggled as closely as they could
have snuggled had both been living, and in some way Muskwa had arranged it
so that one of the dead cub's little paws was embracing him.
Quietly Langdon returned to where Bruce was sleeping, and in a minute or
two Bruce returned with him, rubbing his eyes. And then he, too, stared,
and the men looked at each other.
"Dog meat," breathed Langdon. "You brought it home for dog meat, Bruce!"
Bruce did not answer, Langdon said nothing more, and neither talked very
much for a full hour after that. During that hour Metoosin came and dragged
Pipoonaskoos away, and instead of being skinned and fed to the dogs he was
put into a hole down in the creek-bottom and covered with sand and stones.
That much, at least, Bruce and Langdon did for Pipoonaskoos.
This day Metoosin and Bruce again went over the range. The mountaineer had
brought back with him bits of quartz in which were unmistakable signs of
gold, and they returned with an outfit for panning.
Langdon continued his education of Muskwa. Several times he took the cub
near the dogs, and when they snarled and strained at the ends of their
leashes he whipped them, until with quick understanding they gripped the
fact that Muskwa, although a bear, must not be harmed.
In the afternoon of this second day he freed the cub entirely from the
rope, and he had no difficulty in recapturing it when he wanted to tie it
up again. The third and fourth days Bruce and the Indian explored the
valley west of the range and convinced themselves finally that the
"colours" they found were only a part of the flood-drifts, and would not
lead to fortune.
On this fourth night, which happened to be thick with clouds, and chilly,
Langdon experimented by taking Muskwa to bed with him. He expected trouble.
But Muskwa was as quiet as a kitten, and once he found a proper nest for
himself he scarcely made a move until morning. A part of the night Langdon
slept with one of his hands resting on the cub's soft, warm body.
According to Bruce it was now time to continue the hunt for Thor, but a
change for the worse in Langdon's knee broke in upon their plans. It was
impossible for Langdon to walk more than a quarter of a mile at a time, and
the position he was compelled to take in the saddle caused him so much pain
that to prosecute the hunt even on horseback was out of the question.
"A few more days won't hurt any," consoled Bruce. "If we give the old
fellow a longer rest he may get a bit careless."
The three days that followed were not without profit and pleasure for
Langdon. Muskwa was teaching him more than he had ever known about bears,
and especially bear cubs, and he made notes voluminously.
The dogs were now confined to a clump of trees fully three hundred yards
from the camp, and gradually the cub was given his freedom. He made no
effort to run away, and he soon discovered that Bruce and Metoosin were
also his friends. But Langdon was the only one he would follow.
On the morning of the eighth day after their pursuit of Thor, Bruce and
Metoosin rode over into the eastward valley with the dogs. Metoosin was to
have a day's start, and Bruce planned to return to camp that afternoon so
that he and Langdon could begin their hunt up the valley the next day.
It was a glorious morning. A cool breeze came from the north and west, and
about nine o'clock Langdon fastened Muskwa to his tree, saddled a horse,
and rode down the valley. He had no intention of hunting. It was a joy
merely to ride and breathe in the face of that wind and gaze upon the
wonders of the mountains.
He travelled northward for three or four miles, until he came to a broad,
low slope that broke through the range to the westward. A desire seized
upon him to look over into the other valley, and as his knee was giving him
no trouble he cut a zigzag course upward that in half an hour brought him
almost to the top.
Here he came to a short, steep slide that compelled him to dismount and
continue on foot. At the summit he found himself on a level sweep of
meadow, shut in on each side of him by the bare rock walls of the split
mountains, and a quarter of a mile ahead he could see where the meadow
broke suddenly into the slope that shelved downward into the valley he was
seeking.
Halfway over this quarter of a mile of meadow there was a dip into which he
could not see, and as he came to the edge of this he flung himself suddenly
upon his face and for a minute or two lay as motionless as a rock. Then he
slowly raised his head.
A hundred yards from him, gathered about a small water-hole in the hollow,
was a herd of goats. There were thirty or more, most of them Nannies with
young kids. Langdon could make out only two Billies in the lot. For half an
hour he lay still and watched them. Then one of the Nannies struck out with
her two kids for the side of the mountain; another followed, and seeing
that the whole band was about to move, Langdon rose quickly to his feet and
ran as fast as he could toward them.
For a moment Nannies, Billies, and little kids were paralyzed by his
sudden appearance. They faced half about and stood as if without the power
of flight until he had covered half the distance between t hem. Then their
wits seemed to return all at once, and they broke in a wild panic for the
side of the nearest mountain. Their hoofs soon began to clatter on boulder
and shale, and for another half-hour Langdon heard the hollow booming of
the rocks loosened by their feet high up among the crags and peaks. At the
end of that time they were infinitesimal white dots on the sky-line.
He went on, and a few minutes later looked down into the other valley.
Southward this valley was shut out from his vision by a huge shoulder of
rock. It was not very high, and he began to climb it. He had almost reached
the top when his toe caught in a piece of slate, and in falling he brought
his rifle down with tremendous force on a boulder.
He was not hurt, except for a slight twinge in his lame knee. But his gun
was a wreck. The stock was shattered close to the breech and a twist of his
hand broke it off entirely.
As he carried two extra rifles in his outfit the mishap did not disturb
Langdon as much as it might otherwise have done, and he continued to climb
over the rocks until he came to what appeared to be a broad, smooth ledge
leading around the sandstone spur of the mountain. A hundred feet farther
on he found that the ledge ended in a perpendicular wall of rock. From this
point, however, he had a splendid view of the broad sweep of country
between the two ranges to the south. He sat down, pulled out his pipe, and
prepared to enjoy the magnificent panorama under him while he was getting
his wind.
Through his glasses he could see for miles, and what he looked upon was an
unhunted country. Scarcely half a mile away a band of caribou was filing
slowly across the bottom toward the green slopes to the west. He caught the
glint of many ptarmigan wings in the sunlight below. After a time, fully
two miles away, he saw sheep grazing on a thinly verdured slide.
He wondered how many valleys there were like this in the vast reaches of
the Canadian mountains that stretched three hundred miles from sea to
prairie and a thousand miles north and south. Hundreds, even thousands, he
told himself, and each wonderful valley a world complete within itself; a
world filled with its own life, its own lakes and streams and forests, its
own joys and its own tragedies.
Here in this valley into which he gazed was the same soft droning and the
same warm sunshine that had filled all the other valleys; and yet here,
also, was a different life. Other bears ranged the slopes that he could see
dimly with his naked eyes far to the west and north. It was a new domain,
filled with other promise and other mystery, and he forgot time and hunger
as he sat lost in the enchantment of it.
It seemed to Langdon that these hundreds or thousands of valleys would
never grow old for him; that he could wander on for all time, passing from
one into another, and that each would possess its own charm, its own
secrets to be solved, its own life to be learned. To him they were largely
inscrutable; they were cryptic, as enigmatical as life itself, hiding their
treasures as they droned through the centuries, giving birth to multitudes
of the living, demanding in return other multitudes of the dead. As he
looked off through the sunlit space he wondered what the story of this
valley would be, and how many volumes it would fill, if the valley itself
could tell it.
First of all, he knew, it would whisper of the creation of a world; it
would tell of oceans torn and twisted and thrown aside--of those first
strange eons of time when there was no night, but all was day; when weird
and tremendous monsters stalked where he now saw the caribou drinking at
the creek, and when huge winged creatures half bird and half beast swept
the sky where he now saw an eagle soaring.
And then it would tell of The Change--of that terrific hour when the earth
tilted on its axis, and night came, and a tropical world was turned into a
frigid one, and new kinds of life were born to fill it.
It must have been long after that, thought Langdon, that the first bear
came to replace the mammoth, the mastodon, and the monstrous beasts that
had been their company. And that first bear was the forefather of the
grizzly he and Bruce were setting forth to kill the next day!
So engrossed was Langdon in his thoughts that he did not hear a sound
behind him. And then something roused him.
It was as if one of the monsters he had been picturing in his imagination
had let out a great breath close to him. He turned slowly, and the next
moment his heart seemed to stop its beating; his blood seemed to grow cold
and lifeless in his veins.
Barring the ledge not more than fifteen feet from him, his great jaws
agape, his head moving slowly from side to side as he regarded his trapped
enemy, stood Thor, the King of the Mountains!
And in that space of a second or two Langdon's hands involuntarily gripped
at his broken rifle, and he decided that he was doomed!