THE LARRAMIE FAMILY
I think I did not have to wait ten seconds after her departure, for a
stable-man had seen us approach and immediately came forward. I jumped
down from the cart and looked in the direction of the road. I thought
if I were to make a cross-cut over the lawn and some adjacent fields I
should get back to my bear much quicker than if I returned the way I
had come. But this thought had scarcely shaped itself in my mind when
I heard the approach of hurrying feet, and in the next moment a little
army had thrown itself upon me.
There was a tall, bright-faced man, with side whiskers and a flowing
jacket, who came forward with long steps and outstretched hand; there
was a lady behind him, with little curls on the side of her head; and
there were some boys and girls and other people. And nearly in front
of the whole of them was the young lady I had brought to the house.
Each one of them seized me by the hand; each one of them told me what
a great thing I had done; each of them thanked me from the bottom of
his or her heart for saving the life of his or her daughter or sister,
and not one of them gave me a chance to say that as I had done all the
mischief I could not be too thankful that I had been able to avert
evil consequences. From the various references to the details of the
incident I concluded that the young lady had dashed into the house and
had given a full account of everything which had happened in less time
than it would have taken me to arrange my ideas for such a recital.
As soon as I could get a chance I thanked them all for their gracious
words, and said that as I was in a hurry I must take my leave.
Thereupon arose a hubbub of voices. "Not at dinner-time!" exclaimed
Mr. Larramie. "We would never listen to such a thing!"
"And you need not trouble yourself about your bear," cried my young
lady, whose Christian name I soon discovered to be Edith. "He can live
on barks and roots until we have time to attend to him. He is used to
that in his native wilds."
[Illustration: "A LITTLE ARMY HAD THROWN ITSELF UPON US."]
Now everybody wanted to know everything about the bear, and great was
the hilarity which my account occasioned.
"Come in! Come in!" exclaimed Mr. Larramie. "The bear will be all
right if you tied him well. You have just time to get ready for
dinner." And noticing a glance I had given to my garments, he
continued: "You need not bother about your clothes. We are all in
field costume. Oh, I did not see you had a valise. Now, hurry in, all
of you!"
That dinner was a most lively meal. Everybody seemed to be talking at
once, yet they all found time to eat. The father talked so much that
his daughter Edith took the carving-fork from him and served out the
mutton-chops herself. The mother, from the other end of the table,
with tears in her eyes, continually asked me if I would not have
something or other, and how I could ever screw up my courage to go
about with an absolutely strange bear.
There was a young man, apparently the oldest son, with a fine, frank
manner and very broad shoulders. He was so wonderfully developed about
the bust that he seemed almost deformed, his breast projecting so far
that it gave him the appearance of being round-shouldered in front.
This, my practised eye told me, was the result of undue exercise in
the direction of chest-expansion. He was a good-natured fellow, and
overlooked my not answering several of his questions, owing to the
evident want of opportunity to do so.
There was a yellow-haired girl with a long plait down her back; there
was a half-grown boy, wearing a blue calico shirt with a red cravat;
there was a small girl who sat by her mother; and there was a young
lady, very upright and slender, who did not seem to belong to the
family, for she never used the words "father" and "mother," which were
continually in the mouths of the others. This young lady talked
incessantly, and fired her words after the manner of a Gatling gun,
without taking aim at anybody in particular. Sometimes she may have
been talking to me, but, as she did not direct her gaze towards me on
such occasions, I did not feel bound to consider any suppositions in
regard to the matter.
I, of course, was the principal object of general attention. They
wanted to know what I really thought of Billy Marshall as a scholar.
They wanted to know if I would have some more. They wanted to know if
I had had any previous experience with bears. The father asked which
I thought it would be easier to manage, a boy or a bear. The boy Percy
wanted to know how I placed my feet when I stood up in front of a
runaway horse. Others asked if I intended to go back to my school at
Walford, and how I liked the village, and if I were president of the
literary society there, which Mrs. Larramie thought I ought to be, on
account of my scholastic position.
[Illustration: "'WOULD IT BE EASIER TO MANAGE A BOY OR A BEAR?'"]
But before the meal was over the bear had come to be the absorbing
subject of conversation. I was asked my plans about him, and they were
all disapproved.
"It would be of no use to take him to the Cheltenham," said Walter,
the oldest son. "They couldn't keep him there. They have too many
horses--a livery-stable. They wouldn't let you come on the place with
him."
"Of course not," said Mr. Larramie. "And, besides, why should you take
him there? It would be a poor place anyway. They wouldn't keep him
until his owner turned up. They wouldn't have anything to do with him.
What you want to do is to bring your bear here. We have a hay-barn out
in the fields. He could sleep in the hay, and we could give him a long
chain so that he could have a nice range."
The younger members of the family were delighted with this
suggestion. Nothing would please them better than to have a bear on
the place. Each one of them was ready to take entire charge of it, and
Percy declared that he would go into the woods and hunt for wild-bee
honey with which to feed it. Even Mrs. Larramie assured me that if a
bear were well chained, at a suitable distance, she would have no
fears whatever of it.
I accepted the proposition, for I was glad to get rid of the animal in
a way which would please so many people, and after dinner was over,
and I had smoked a cigar with my host and his son Walter, I said that
it was time for me to go and get the bear.
"But you won't go by the main road," said Mr. Larramie. "That makes a
great curve below here to avoid a hill. If I understood you properly,
you left the bear not far from a small house inhabited by three
women?"
"They're the McKenna sisters," added Walter.
"Yes," said the father, "and their house is not more than two miles
from here by a field road. I will go with you."
I exclaimed that I would not put him to so much trouble, but my words
were useless. The Walter son declared that he would go also, that he
would like the walk; the Percy son declared he was going if anybody
went; and Genevieve, the girl with the yellow plait, said that she
wished she were a boy so that she could go too, and she wished she
could go anyway, boy or no boy, and as her father said that there was
no earthly reason why she should not go, she ran for her hat.
Miss Edith looked as if she would like to go, but she did not say so;
and, as for me, I agreed to every proposition. It would certainly be
great fun to do things with this lively household.
We started off without the boy, but it was not long before he came
running after us, and to my horror I perceived that he carried a
rifle.
"What are you going to do with that, Percy?" exclaimed his father.
"I don't expect to do anything with it," the boy replied, "but I
thought it would be a good thing to bring it along--especially as
Genevieve is with us. Nobody knows what might happen."
"That's true," exclaimed Walter, "and the fact that Genevieve is along
is the best reason in the world for your not bringing a gun. You
better go take it back."
To this Percy strongly objected. He was going out on a sort of a
bear-hunt, and to him half the pleasure would be lost if he did not
carry a gun. I am not a coward, but a boy with a gun is a terror to
me. My expression may have intimated my state of mind, for Mr.
Larramie said to me that we had now gone so far that it would be a
pity to send Percy back, and that he did not think there would be any
danger, for his boy had been taught how to carry a gun properly.
"We are all out-of-door people and sportsmen," he said, "and we begin
early. But I suppose what you are thinking about is the danger of some
of us ending soon. But we need not be afraid of that. Walk in front,
Percy, and keep the barrel pointed downward."
When we came in sight of the house of the three McKennas, Walter
proposed that we make a détour towards the woods. "For," said he, "if
those good women see a party like this with a gun among them, they
will be sure to think it is a case of escaped criminal, or something
of that kind, and be frightened out of their wits."
We skirted the edge of the trees until we came to the opening of the
wood road, which I recognized immediately, and, asking Percy and the
others to keep back, I went on by myself.
"I don't think people would frighten that sort of a bear," I heard
Genevieve say. "He must be used to crowds around him when he's
dancing."
I presently reached the place where I had turned from the road. It was
a natural break in the woods. There was the tree to which I had tied
the bear, but there was no bear.
I stood aghast, and in a moment the rest of the party were clustered
around me. "Is this where you left him?" they cried. "And is he gone?
Are you sure this is the place?"
Yes, I was sure of it. I have an excellent eye for locality, and I
knew that I had chained the bear to the small oak in front of me. At
that moment there was a scream from Genevieve. "Look! Look!" she
cried. "There he is, just ready to spring!"
We all looked up, and, sure enough, on the lower branch of the oak,
half enveloped in foliage, we saw the bear extended at full length and
blinking down at us. I gave a shout of delight.
"Now, keep back, all of you!" I cried. "Bears don't spring from trees,
but it will be better for you to be out of the way while I try to get
him down."
I walked up to the oak-tree, and then I found that the bear was still
firmly attached to it. His chain had been fastened loosely around the
trunk; he had climbed up to the branch and pulled the chain with him.
I now called upon Orso to come down, but apparently he did not
understand English, and lay quietly upon the branch, his head towards
the trunk of the tree. I extended my hand up towards the chain, and
found that I could nearly reach it. "Shall I give you a lift?" cried
Walter, and I accepted the offer. It was a hard piece of work for him,
but he was a professed athlete, and he would have lifted me if it had
cracked his spine. I reached up and unhooked the chain. It was then
long enough for me to stand on the ground and hold the end of it.
Now I began to pull. "Come down!" I said. "Come down, Orso!" But Orso
did not move.
"Bears don't come down head-foremost," cried Percy; "they turn around
and come down backwards. You ought to have a chain to his tail if you
want to pull him down."
"He hasn't got any tail!" exclaimed Genevieve.
I was in a quandary. I might as well try to break the branch as to
pull the bear down. "If we had only thought of bringing a bucket of
meat!" cried Percy.
"Would you mind holding the chain," I said to Walter, "while I try to
drive him down?" Of course the developed young man was not afraid to
do anything I was not afraid to do, and he took the chain. There was
a pine-tree growing near the oak, and, mounting into this, I found
that with a long stick which Mr. Larramie handed me I could just reach
the bear. "Go down!" I said, tapping him on the haunches, but he did
not move.
"Can't you speak to him in Italian?" said Genevieve. "Tame bears know
Italian. Doesn't anybody know the Italian for 'Come down out of a
tree?'" But such knowledge was absent from the party.
"Try him in Latin," cried Percy. "That must be a good deal like
Italian, anyway."
To this suggestion Mr. Larramie made no answer; he had left college
before any of the party present had been born; Mr. Walter looked a
little confused; he had graduated several years before, and his
classics were rusty. I felt that my pedagogical position made it
incumbent upon me to take immediate action, but for the life of me I
could not think of an appropriate phrase.
"Give him high English!" cried Mr. Larramie. "That's often classic
enough! Tell him to descend!"
"Orso, descend!" I cried, giving a little foreign twang to the words.
Immediately the bear began to twist like a caterpillar upon the limb,
he extended his hind-legs towards the trunk, he seized it with his
fore-paws. He began slowly to move downward.
"Hurrah!" cried Percy, "that hit him like a rifle-ball! Hurrah for
high English! That's good enough for me!"
"Look at his hind hands!" cried Genevieve. "He has worn all the hair
off his palms!"
I hurried from the tree and reached the ground before the bear. Then
taking the end of the chain, I advised the others to move out of the
woods while I followed with the bear. They all obeyed except
Genevieve, who wanted very much to linger behind and help me lead him.
But this I would not permit.
The bear followed me with his usual docility until we had emerged from
the woods. Then he gave a little start, and fixed his eyes upon Percy,
who stood at a short distance, his rifle in his hand. I had not
supposed that this bear was afraid of anything, but now I had reason
to believe that he was afraid of guns, for the instant he saw the
armed boy he made the little start I have mentioned, and followed it
up by a great bolt which jerked the chain from my hand, and the next
instant Orso was bounding away in great lopes, his chain rattling
behind him.
Promptly Percy brought his rifle to his shoulder. "Don't you fire!" I
shouted. "Put down your gun and leave it here. It frightens him!" And
with that we were all off in hot pursuit.
"Cut him off from the woods!" shouted Mr. Walter, who was in advance.
"If he gets in the woods we'll lose him sure!"
We followed this good advice, and at the top of our speed we
endeavored to get between the beast and the trees. To a certain extent
we succeeded in our object, for some of us were fast runners, and
Orso, perceiving that he might be cut off from a woody retreat, turned
almost at right angles and made directly for the house.
"He's after the three McKennas!" screamed Genevieve, as she turned to
follow the bear, and from being somewhat in the rear she was now in
advance of us, and dashed across the field at a most wonderful rate
for a girl.
The rest of us soon passed her, but before we reached the house the
bear disappeared behind some out-buildings. Then we saw him again. He
dashed through the gate of a back yard. He seemed to throw himself
against the house. He disappeared through a door-way. There was a
great crash as of crockery and tin. There were screams. There was
rattling and banging, and then all was still. When we reached the
house we heard no sound.