They had arrived at the Rockies in early summer, and long before the hot
season was at its hottest, long before the time came when at midday
hardly would you have heard a sound in the woods, except the singing of
the river that went rippling over its pebbly bed, or tumbling in
miniature cataracts over rocks, and falling into deep dark pools
beneath, where dwelt the largest trout, and near which, mayhap, the
beaver had his haunt--long before midsummer, they were so perfectly at
home that they felt no wish to leave the lovely glen. Both Leonard and
Douglas were of those who dearly love--
"--The haunts of Nature;
Love the sunshine of the meadow,
Love the shadow of the forest,
Love the wind among the branches.
"And the rain-shower and the snowstorm,
And the rushing of great rivers,
Through their palisades of pine trees,
And the thunder in the mountains."
They loved Nature, and Nature seemed to love them, for even the wild
birds appeared to sing to them,--
"In the moorlands and the fenlands,
In the melancholy marshes,--"
While the wild flowers told their tales in a language that only poets
understand, whispered to them of their loves and sorrows,--
"In green and silent valleys,
By pleasant water-courses."
Among the deep, dark forest glens, in the canons, and in caves among the
bush that clad the mountain sides, lived in those days bears--chiefly
the grizzly and cinnamon bear--far more fierce than any that are now
found in the same quarter. It has been said, and with a good deal of
truth, that bears seldom attack a man. There are exceptions to all
rules, as the following adventure will prove. It was a lovely day in
August. Our wanderers had gone out in two parties, Captain Blunt,
Douglas, and a few Indians being together, and Leonard with the Yankee
trapper and one Indian by themselves. The sport for a time was _nil_.
It was the hottest hour of the day, and every creature was sheltering
from the fierce sunlight. Hardly knowing or caring what he did or where
he went, Leonard went straggling up a mountain side, studying the
flowers and the strange pieces of ore that lay here and there in all
directions.
He was in the act of picking up one of these last when a coughing noise
in the bush close by made him start and stand at once to arms. There,
not twenty yards from him, and rapidly advancing, was a huge grizzly.
Hardly had he time to bring his gun to the shoulder ere the monster
prepared to spring. By Heaven's own mercy Leonard fired in time. The
roar changed to a choking one, and the bear spat blood; he turned to
fly, Leonard following fast behind him. He managed to fire again ere
the brute headed away for a canon at some distance--fired, but in his
hurry missed. All along down the hill, after reloading, he tracked the
bear by his blood. And all along the grassy canon bottom till halfway
up, where it was evident the grizzly had climbed to his cave.
It was foolhardy of him to follow, but he was excited, and in a minute
more he was at the cave mouth. In the darkness he could see the angry
gleam of the monster's eyes; and at these he took aim, and fired. He
remembered the roar the bear gave, then all was a mist. He was found by
the Yankee trapper lying insensible at the cliff foot, the bear dead
beside him.
Leonard got small praise for this exploit.
"It ain't sport," the Yankee told him, "it's idiocy; there ain't another
name for it. You've done it once, but I guess it isn't in you to do it
again and live."
One other adventure is worth relating, but in this instance it was
Douglas who had a narrow escape. The dogs, of which they had several,
had chased and treed an immense cougar or puma. This is but another
name for the American lion, now I fear all but extinct. Why he had run
from the dogs is a mystery, but there he was standing almost erect on a
branch, and looking proudly and defiantly down. Douglas's approach, gun
in hand, however, was the signal for resistance. The brute crouched
down and prepared to spring. Douglas knelt and prepared to fire. Bang
went the gun. Down sprang the fierce and wounded puma. It would have
been death indeed for Douglas had not the dogs tackled the animal. It
was death for one of these faithful creatures, and others were terribly
wounded. But the sportsman had time to load and fire again, and this
time he made sure.
There were panthers in the woods as well, but none so large or fierce as
the puma.
Killing antelopes, and various kinds of deer and elks, following the
wild buffalo on the plains, hunting up the silent haunts of the turkeys,
fishing and grouse shooting--all helped to make the time fly fast away,
and the summer seemed to pass all too quickly by. Not that it was
always fine weather in these vast solitudes. No, far from it. Out on
the plains, more than once they were overtaken by terrible sandstorms,
while often and often a thunderstorm broke over the mountains of such
awful sublimity, that even Captain Blunt was forced to own he had never
heard such sounds before, never witnessed such blinding lightning.
Anon a wind of hurricane force would arise suddenly and go tearing
through the woods, breaking off branches and hurling them high in air,
and snapping the largest trees off in their centres, or rending them up
by the roots; and if this storm was accompanied, as it often was, by
rains, then the torrents that came roaring down from the mountain sides,
bringing boulders and broken wood with them, would have appalled the
stoutest heart to look upon them.
Then came on the sweet, soft Indian summer, the woods arrayed in all the
glorious tints of the autumn, the sunsets mysterious in their very
beauty, the air soft and balmy and bracing.
It was on one of these delightful days that the whole party, with the
exception of Leonard--who was busy curing bird-skins--set out for a hunt
for wild sheep across the plains.