THE KING OF THE MOUNTAIN
The following spring, when Black Bruin came forth from hibernation, he
went one day's journey nearer to the settlements and took up
headquarters in a rugged and heavily timbered series of mountains,
which were admirably adapted to his purpose.
Whenever he awoke during his winter nap he still tasted pork and mutton
from the autumn raid. Henceforth he must have more of that diet. So
the reason for his changing his base of operations will be readily
seen. One day's journey would carry him back into the wilderness, with
its fine resources for fishing and hunting, while a day's travel in the
opposite direction would bring him to the outskirts of the settlements,
within easy striking distance of plunder.
At his first meeting with White Nose, he found her most unresponsive to
his advances, considering the fact that they had come and gone together
all through the autumn. The reason for her indifference was soon
discovered, for Black Bruin saw that she had two little fuzzy cubs in
tow;--one with a smutty white nose like her own, and the other with a
dark muzzle like Black Bruin's. If Black Bruin knew that these were
his offspring, he did not evince much interest in them, while White
Nose would hardly let him go near them. Perhaps she was afraid that he
might eat them, or maybe it was only maternal jealousy, which is always
strong in wild mothers.
For several days after taking up his abode in the mountains, Black
Bruin contented himself with a vegetarian diet, varied with fish and
small game, but the blood-lust soon came upon him and he began prowling
about the settlements.
At first, his reconnoitering was unsuccessful; but one day he
discovered an animal four or five times as large as a deer, feeding in
an open field near the woods. This would not have interested him much
had not the large creature been followed by a little animal of the same
kind. He never would have thought of attacking the mother, but the
calf was easily within his scope and he began shadowing them with the
persistence of a good hunter.
Black Bruin knew that these creatures were the property of men. He had
often watched the cattle feeding when he lived near the scene of the
great bear-hunt, but with the exception of the calf he had killed upon
that eventful morning, he had never molested them.
Even now, he associated the killing of the calf with the baying of
hounds and danger, but he was now much wiser and stronger. He felt
that he could get away to the mountains long before men would discover
their loss. He could even fight if need be.
Of all the bears in the region he was easily the strongest and heaviest
and his life with White Nose the fall before had taught him many things.
One morning the young heifer hid her little red calf in a thicket just
as the doe had her fawn and went to feed in the open near by.
This was Black Bruin's opportunity, and swift and sure like the good
hunter he had now become, he approached. The deer mother had not
offered to attack him and he did not think this one would, so he did
not pay much attention to her.
He crept as near as he could without scaring the game and then with a
swift pounce was upon it. He struck the calf a blow that should have
broken its neck, but the calf moved at just the critical moment and
received a glancing stroke. With a bleat of pain and fear it sprang up
and fled toward its mother. It took only two jumps, for a second blow
laid it low, with just enough life left to kick.
Black Bruin seized the prize by the head and began dragging it into the
bushes. But he had not gone far when the heifer was upon him like a
whirlwind. He aimed a blow at her head which deprived her of one horn,
but this did not stop her charge. She caught him fairly in the chest
and sent him sprawling.
Her remaining horn ploughed a deep wound in his shoulder and the force
of the contact knocked the breath out of him, but it also aroused his
fighting blood and put him upon his guard.
When the heifer came for him the second time, he ripped open her nose
and eluded her charge, but in no way dampened her fighting ardor.
Ordinarily she would have fled from the bear like the wind, but her
maternal affection had been aroused and wounded and no matter how timid
the wild mother, it will usually fight desperately when its young are
assailed.
Now that the bear was upon his guard, the heifer was hardly a match for
him, for he could usually elude her charges and punish her sorely at
each rush; but one thing was certain: It would be no easy matter to
carry off the dead calf, and carry on such a fight as this at the same
time.
In five minutes the cow was covered with blood and her hide had been
deeply lacerated in many places, while Black Bruin still had but one
wound, that in his shoulder.
Little by little the heifer's frenzy was worn out, until at last she
retired to a distance and pawed the ground and bellowed. But when
Black Bruin sought to carry off the calf, she was back again fighting
every inch of the ground and often causing him to abandon the carcass
for a time.
When she stood over the dead calf, licking the blood from its wounds
and caressing and nosing it, trying in her dumb way to bring it back to
life, she was a pathetic picture of wild motherhood, fighting and ready
to fight to the end if need be for its offspring.
Finally toward night she seemed to understand that the calf was dead
and no longer of value to her, so, after driving Black Bruin far from
the spot, she abandoned the fight and left him conqueror and in full
possession of the field.
When he had made sure that she had returned to the pasture, he dragged
the calf far up the mountainside into his fastness and gorged upon it
as long as it lasted.
As the pasture in which Black Bruin had committed his depredation was a
mile from the settler's house and not often visited except to salt the
young stock kept in it, the real offender was not discovered, although
it was apparent to the farmer that the heifer had been attacked by some
wild beast. The rains, however, had so obliterated the signs that it
is doubtful if he could have read them rightly, even had he discovered
the scene of the battle.
About a week later Black Bruin was climbing the mountainside on the way
to his fastness when the wind brought him a new scent that he had
sometimes smelled before, but what to attribute it to he had never
known. The scent was very strong and Black Bruin knew that the
intruder of his domain was near at hand. At last he made out a dim
gray shape, near the trunk of a tree. Its color so blended with its
surroundings that he might not have noticed it at all, had it not been
for two yellow phosphorus eyes that glowed full at him.
The creature was about the size of a large raccoon, but it was no
raccoon. Its head was large and round, and surmounted by long ears
with hairy tassels at the end. Its forearm was longer and stronger
than that of a raccoon and the tail was short and not much of an
ornament.
Whatever the animal was, it was small and possibly good to eat, so
Black Bruin made a rush at it; but quick as he was, he was not half as
quick as the lynx, which with a snarl and a spit scratched up the tree
in a manner that made the bear's own accomplishments at tree-climbing
look mean indeed. So the stranger could climb trees? Well, so could
Black Bruin. Up he scratched after it. He would follow it to the top
and then bat it off with his paw.
When the cat had nearly reached the top of the tree, it turned around
and looked back. Its enemy was close upon it and something heroic must
be done.
The cat measured the distance to a tree-top forty or fifty feet farther
down the mountainside; then the top of the tree in which it squatted
sprang back and the gray form shot through the air and alighted
gracefully in the distant tree-top.
It was a great jump, and so astonished Black Bruin that he forgot to be
furious at seeing his game escape.
This was his first experience with a Canadian lynx, but he saw them
often, once he had learned their ways. He discovered that they too
were fishermen, and hunters of small game. He often found them hunting
upon his preserves, but their broad paws fell so lightly upon the
forest carpet and their gray forms were so unobtrusive in the woods
that he did not often come to close quarters with them.
A few days later, one evening, just at twilight, when Black Bruin was
prowling cautiously after a deer family, consisting of a buck, two
does, and three fawns, he made the acquaintance of another cat, much
larger and more supple than the lynx.
The deer were moving slowly from point to point, browsing as they went,
when suddenly from the tree-tops, fell a long lithe figure.
So swift and terrible was its coming that the doe upon whom it sprang
was borne to the ground. The great cat did not wait for it to recover,
but with claw and fang soon throttled it, while the rest of the herd
fled at a breakneck pace, their white flags up.
Here was game already killed. The great cat was not over a third as
heavy as Black Bruin. It would doubtless run away at his approach as
did everything else.
So thought the bear as he rushed in to take the kill from the cougar,
but he had reckoned without his host.
The panther was so intent upon its own game that it did not notice the
approach of the bear until the rival hunter was within thirty feet of
the prize. Then it wheeled about and was instantly transformed into a
demon. Its tail lashed its sides, its fangs were bared in the ugliest
snarl that Black Bruin had ever faced and its eyes fairly blazed.
Black Bruin backed off a few feet to get a better look at the terrible
stranger. He had not expected opposition and such effrontery was new
to him.
But the panther continued to lash her sides with her tail and to glare
and snarl, so the bear circled about and about, trying to get behind
his adversary. Finally, seeing that the panther had no notion of
giving up the kill, the bear went in search of other game.
But he was not afraid of the great cat, only astonished and curious.
He knew quite well that the deer did not belong to him and this may
have kept him from picking a quarrel.
If he had met the cat in any of the forest highways and it had disputed
his right to any of the privileges of the ancient woods, he would have
given battle. So he was still the king of the mountain, although he
had left the cat in full possession of the deer.
Spring and summer came and went. The blueberries ripened in the
pastures and scant clearings, and the blackberries along the edge of
the woods. All the native roots that Black Bruin knew so well grew in
abundance.
Occasionally he stole from the distant settlements, as the king of the
mountain had a right to do, or went farther into the wilderness where
the hunting and fishing were better. Several times he ran across White
Nose and her two fuzzy cubs, but they did not have much to do with each
other until autumn came around.
Finally the first frosts came, and the waiting forest shook out its
scarlet and crimson and golden banners, and many water-grasses and
weeds took on quite bright colors, for such humble plants.
One moonlight night in October, when the air had begun to be clear and
crisp, and the sky was so studded with stars that it seemed as if there
was not room for even one more, a strange and lordly company came
stalking into the land of the king of the mountain. They were gray,
dim, spectral shapes and new to the region.
They may have been looking for feeding grounds, or perhaps the autumn
restlessness was upon their leader, who was a giant of his kind,--a
broad-antlered belligerent bull moose, ready at this season of the year
to fight anything and everything that crossed his path.
The first time Black Bruin saw the newcomers he was digging roots along
the edge of a shallow pond. He was also keeping a sharp lookout for
frogs, clams, or almost any small crustaceans.
Presently he noticed a commotion out in the middle of the pond, which
was only about an acre in extent. Then a great head, surmounted by a
massive set of horns, came up out of the water and Black Bruin saw that
the strange creature had his mouth full of lily-bulbs and
water-grasses. Soon the huge head disappeared again, and after a few
seconds reappeared, bringing up more lily-pads.
For half an hour Black Bruin watched the stranger diving and
reappearing. Then the great beast swam ashore, shook himself and went
crashing off through the woods, his hoofs keeping time in a rhythmic
clack, a-clack, clack.
When he had disappeared Black Bruin advanced to the spot where he had
come ashore and smelled his track. It was not like anything that he
had ever smelled before, and somehow the scent made him angry. This
lordly monster was invading his preserves. No one but him had a right
to hunt or fish, or to eat roots in this region. So Black Bruin
followed the trail of the moose, half curious and half angry.
He had not gone a quarter of a mile when he came up with the bull, who
was rubbing his antlers upon the branches of a low tree.
Black Bruin watched him for several moments, until a puff of wind
carried the telltale scent to the moose, who is most wary and watchful.
The moose threw up his head, gave a loud snort and blew his breath
through his nose with a whistling sound, then crashed off through the
forest. This fact led Black Bruin to surmise that he was afraid of
him, and nearly resulted in his undoing.
The following day, he discovered the broad-antlered stranger browsing
upon a small tree that was bent down under his foreleg. There were two
other tall, gaunt creatures, also feeding near, and two small animals
of the same kind. These were two cow-moose and their calves.
Altogether it was quite an imposing family party.
Black Bruin watched them curiously for a time, until finally the bull
scented him, and came charging through the bushes.
This both astonished and angered the bear, but seeing how large and
formidable the stranger was, and how fearlessly he came on, Black Bruin
sneaked away through the bushes into some very thick cover and bided
his time.
It came a few days later. He was poking under the dead leaves for
beechnuts, when he noticed the herd passing at a distance. The two
cows and the calves were apparently alone, and one of the calves was
straggling far behind the rest. For several days the blood-lust had
been strong upon Black Bruin, and here was his opportunity. So he
began stalking the calf warily. The wind was in his favor and in half
an hour he had worked around within striking distance.
He first peered all about to see that the bull was not in sight, and
then made a sudden rush upon the calf. But awkward as it looked, the
calf was agile, and nearly eluded him, merely receiving a raking blow
across the shoulder, where Black Bruin had intended to break its neck.
Terrified and stung with excruciating pain, it ran hither and thither,
bleating and making a great outcry.
But Black Bruin was not the hunter to let his prey get away if he could
help it, so he pursued the calf hotly and soon landed another blow that
stretched it upon the ground. He was so intent upon his own game, that
he did not notice the cyclone bearing down upon him.
Suddenly the broad-antlered monster was above him, striking with
terrible cutting hoofs, which ploughed deep furrows in his shaggy coat
and cut deeper gashes. Almost before he knew it, he had been knocked
down and was rapidly being trampled to death.
The only thing that protected him was his fat. He was so rotund and so
covered with thick layers of fat, that he slipped about under the
fearful cutting hoofs.
He struck out viciously, laying open one of the bull's forelegs, but
without avail. In another minute his fate would have been sealed, had
not a deliverer come at the right second.
Suddenly, from out the bushes near at hand, charged another bull moose,
bellowing frightfully as he came. He was not coming primarily to Black
Bruin's assistance, but to do battle with the first bull. One of the
cows by right was his, and he proposed to claim his rights, and battle
for them like the knights of old.
Hearing the challenge and seeing a rival near at hand, the moose left
his victim and charged furiously at the newcomer, while Black Bruin
limped painfully into the bushes, feeling that he had found out
something about the genus moose that it was well to remember.
He did not fully recover from his mauling until he went into winter
quarters.
The following spring when Black Bruin came forth from hibernation, he
made a trip to a distant lake where the moose were often to be found.
He had no mind to molest them, but he did want a certain root which
grew only there.
He went directly to the little pond where he had first seen the bull
moose, and had arrived within a few rods of the shore when his keen ear
caught a slight sound. It was a sound of pain, half-groan and
half-moan. Something was in distress. Distress in the wilderness
usually means a good dinner for some one, so Black Bruin crept
cautiously forward. Soon the wind brought moose-scent to the bear's
nostrils and he was filled with fear and tempted to flee, but still he
could hear deep groans and sighs. Coming to the edge of the water he
peered out through the bushes and discovered the mighty moose helpless
and impotent, mired in a treacherous spring bog. His legs were
entirely buried in the mud, which came up on his sides. He was covered
with foam and sweat, and so weak with thrashing and wrenching, that he
could hardly hold up his great head.
At the sight, hate glowed hot in the small red eyes of Black Bruin. It
was this monster who had so beaten and humiliated him. Now he would
punish him, so he crept cautiously forward.
But the strong wind blew the moose-scent in his nostrils and fear kept
him at bay. Finally the moose also scented the bear and made frantic
efforts to free himself, feeling that he was now helpless and at the
mercy of all; but his efforts were futile and he laid his head wearily
down in the mud when he had ceased struggling.
For a whole day Black Bruin watched him, before he could overcome his
fear; then he crept cautiously out and sprang upon the bull's rear.
The great brute was by that time so spent that he hardly moved while
Black Bruin lacerated his flanks. The only sign of pain that he gave
was expressed in deep groans and sighs which seemed fairly to come from
his breaking heart.
Soon the conqueror crept along the back to his neck, and biting and
striking at the vertebrae, quickly extinguished the strong life in the
great frame and the huge head gradually sank in the mire. For several
days Black Bruin came and gorged himself upon the carcass and did not
desist until it had entirely disappeared in the bog.