NAHMA AND THE BEAR RUN AWAY
Nahma found the showman and Blink engaged in a violent dispute over
the bear. The former was insisting that Blink should escape, with
the animal, from the rear of the stable and lead it to a place of
concealment on the outskirts of the village, where he would join them
later. In the mean time he would divert the attention of the mob until
the escape could be made. Blink, who was not on friendly terms with the
bear, was refusing on the ground that, with the animal in its present
temper, his life would not be worth a moment's purchase.
"Then let the heathen take him, and do you go along to see that they
do not give us the slip," exclaimed the man, as Nahma appeared and
a howl from the mob announced their approach. Their interest had
been distracted for a minute while they watched the lady with the
frightened child in her arms regain her coach, which was immediately
driven away. Now they were ready to settle with the bear, and turned
towards the stable in which he had taken refuge. As they drew near
the showman, who, though a brute, was no coward, appeared in its open
doorway and confronted them.
"Good my masters," he cried, "what seek you?"
"Thy bear!" roared a dozen voices. "Bring forth thy bear that we may
bait him. He is not fit to live, and must be slain."
Again the showman attempted to speak, but his voice was drowned in the
bedlam of cries raised by the mob; and, losing control of his temper,
he shook his cudgel defiantly at them. Upon this a shower of stones was
hurled at him, and one of them striking him on the head, he staggered
and fell. At this the mob halted, and some even sneaked away, fearful
of consequences. The village barber, who was also its surgeon, bustled
forward to make an examination of the wounded man. He was conscious,
but in spite of, or possibly on account of, copious bloodletting,
which was the only remedy administered, he died a few hours later.
So completely was public attention distracted by this tragic event,
that for a time no thought was given to the original cause of the
disturbance, and, finally, when search was made for the bear, he
was nowhere to be seen. Not until the following day was any trace
discovered of those who had been in the showman's company. Then the
one known as "Blink" was found on the edge of a wood, helplessly bound
and half dead from a night of cold and terror. He could only tell
that, having escaped with the bear and the heathen, the latter had
suddenly set upon him without warning or provocation and reduced him to
the condition in which he was discovered. What had become of them or
whither they had gone he knew not, nor did he care. He only hoped he
would never again set eyes on the savage monsters who were so unfit for
Christian company.
In the mean time Nahma and his companions had found no difficulty in
leaving the village unnoticed, since all public attention was for the
moment drawn in the opposite direction. Thus they successfully gained
the woodland that had been appointed by the showman as a place of
rendezvous. Here the young American suddenly realized that only Blink
stood between him and the freedom for which he longed. Up to this time
he had been shackled at night and so closely watched by day that no
chance of escape had offered. Now one had come, and so quick was our
lad to take advantage of it that within a minute the unsuspecting Blink
was lying helplessly bound hand and foot with his own kerchief and a
sash that formed part of his professional costume. Thus was he left,
while Nahma and the bear, whom the former now regarded as his sole
friend in all the world, plunged into the forest depths and disappeared.
The England of that long-ago date was a very different country from
the England of to-day, and its entire population hardly exceeded two
millions of souls. Its few cities were small, and connected by highways
so abominable that travellers frequently lost their way while trying
to follow them. Not more than one-quarter of the arable lands were
under cultivation, while the remainder was covered with dark forests
and great fens, marshes, and desolate moors across which one might
journey for a day without sight of human habitation. Game of all kinds
abounded, and its hunting formed the chief recreation of the gentry and
of those nobles who left London during a portion of the year to dwell
on their estates.
Thus our young Indian, upon gaining his freedom, found himself amid
surroundings at once familiar and congenial. He had with him the bow
and arrows used in his recent exhibitions, a fire-bag containing
flint, steel, and tinder, and a dirk that had been taken from Blink.
Thus provided he had no anxiety on the score of maintaining himself
comfortably. He realized that the bear was an encumbrance, but in his
present loneliness he was loath to part from it. And so the two pushed
on together until they had penetrated several miles into the forest,
when darkness overtook them.
Then Nahma made a fire beside a small stream and cooked a rabbit he had
shot an hour earlier, while the bear nosed about for acorns, grubs, and
edible roots.
They continued to traverse the forest on the following day, keeping
to the same general direction until our lad was satisfied that he
was beyond danger from pursuit, when he began to look about for a
supper and a camping-place. Both of these came at the same time, for
on discovering, successfully stalking, and finally killing a deer, he
found that the animal had been drinking from a spring of clear water,
beside which he determined to establish his camp. Further than this he
had no plans. It was enough for the present that he was free, in the
forest that he loved, and beyond all knowledge of the white man whom
he hated. Here, then, he would abide for a time, or until he should
discover people of his own kind, for he was still impressed with the
belief that others like himself must inhabit those game-filled forests.
That night both he and the bear, to whom he talked as though it were a
human being, ate to their satisfaction of deer meat, and Nahma lay down
to sleep beside his shaggy friend, happier than he had been at any time
since leaving his native land.
The next morning he was early astir and ready to begin work on the
lodge that he proposed to construct. By mid-day he had the poles of the
frame cut, set in the ground, arched over until they met, and fastened
in position. Then he went in quest of proper material for a thatch
or covering. The bear, having spent the morning in feeding, was left
behind, chained to a small tree and fast asleep.
While searching for the material he wanted Nahma struck the fresh
trail of a deer, which after a long chase he overtook and killed.
As he was returning with the hide and haunches on his back he was
startled by a baying of hounds, which changed as he listened to a
snarling, growling, and yelping that indicated a battle royal. From
the nature and direction of these sounds our lad realized that trouble
of some kind had come to the bear, and, without a thought of danger to
himself, he ran to the assistance of his comrade. Reaching the scene,
he found the bear, though sadly hampered by his chain, making a gallant
fight against a pack of boar-hounds that had come across him while
ranging the forest. They were fierce, gaunt creatures, and although
two of their number, already knocked out, were lying to one side
feebly licking their wounds, it was evident that the chained bear was
overmatched and must speedily be dragged down. Flinging away his burden
and drawing his dirk, Nahma rushed forward and sprang into the thick of
the fray, uttering the fierce war-cry of the Iroquois as he did so.
For a few minutes there was a furious and indiscriminate mingling of
bear, dogs, and man, then of a sudden the young Indian was seized
from behind, dragged backward, and flung to the ground by one of two
men clad in the green dress of foresters, who had just arrived on the
scene. While Nahma's assailant hastily but securely fastened the lad's
arms so as to render him harmless, the other ranger ended the battle,
still raging, by thrusting a keen-bladed boar-spear through the bear's
body. It pierced the animal's heart, and he sank with a sobbing groan.
"A fair sorrowful bit o' wark this, Jean," remarked the man who had
killed the bear, as he examined the several dogs. "Fower dead; two
killed by yon brute and two by the dirk of this wastrel. All the rest
gouged, cut, and bit up. But he'll answer for it smartly when once Sir
Amory claps eyes on him, the thievin', murthren gypsy poacher."
"Yes, I reckon he'll sweat fine," replied the other, with a grin; "but
did iver thou see bear chained afore?"
"Noa, niver. Lucky thing 'twas, though. But come on whoam. Bring
Poacher with 'e, and we'll send pack-horse for bear. No use looking
furder for pigs this day."
So poor Nahma, once more bereft of his freedom and of the dumb brute
whom he regarded as his only friend, his garments rent and his body
bleeding from a dozen wounds, was marched away between the two stout
rangers, while after them trooped the dogs.
Sir Amory Effingham, a knight in high favor at court, was lord of that
region, and being devoted to the chase, he spent several months of each
year at Garnet Hall, the ivy-covered forest castle in which his family
had been cradled for generations. It lay a league from the scene of
Nahma's capture, and by the time he was brought within sight of its
battlemented towers the short day was closing and night was at hand.
While one of the rangers kennelled the dogs and looked after their
wounds, the other thrust Nahma, with his hurts still unattended, into
an empty store-room, locked its door, and went to make report of what
had taken place.
"A gypsy, eh? A poacher, caught red-handed, and a dog-killer, is he?"
quoth Sir Amory, angrily. "Hanging will be too good for him. He should
be drawn and quartered as an example to all of his kidney, and I will
deal with his case in the morning. Look well to him, then, see that he
escapes not, and bring him to me in the great hall after the breaking
of fast."
"Yes, Sir Amory."
"And, Jean, send for that bear and have his pelt taken before the body
stiffens."
"Yes, Sir Amory."
"Also, Jean, give both the dogs and the prisoner a good feed of bear's
meat."
So all was done as directed; only Nahma, realizing the nature of the
food thrown to him some hours later, refused to eat of it.