BOYS AND A GRIZZLY.
Hardware and Persimmons found pretty much the same traveling as Ralph.
But not as experienced as he in following a trail, they did not advance
so fast. Luckily, as it so fell out for them, the pony that they were
trailing was one known as White-eye. He was a harum-scarum sort of a
brute, and for that reason Mountain Jim had fastened round his neck,
the night before, a lariat with a heavy stone attached to it. The stone
had left a plainly swept path through the woods, and except in one or
two baffling places the boys had followed it without much difficulty.
Instead of keeping to the open mountain side, like Ralph’s quarry,
White-eye had made his way up a gully that cut deep into the hills,
leading in a diagonal slash to the north. The two lads followed the
bottom of the gully as far as it led and then, still following the
trail of the stone attached to White-eye’s neck, they made their way up
a rough, rock-strewn slope to the summit of the ridge.
Unlike the country Ralph had struck, Hardware and his companion found
themselves, on the summit of the ridge, in a forest of white birch and
shady green timber, amidst which the sunlight filtered down cheerfully.
Passing through this they emerged on a rocky hillside thickly grown
with “scotch-caps,” or sackatoons, Rocky Mountain blueberries and snake
berries, while under foot was a carpet of red heather.
The boys ate heartily of the blueberries and scotch caps, but one
taste of the snake berries was enough for them. They were bitter and
nauseating to a degree, although Mountain Jim had told them that bears
preferred them to any other berry.
“No accounting for tastes,” commented Hardware in this connection,
“and speaking of bears, I wonder if there are any hereabouts?”
“Bucking blueberries, I hope not,” exclaimed Persimmons, looking about
him in some trepidation. “I’d like to have Mountain Jim along if we are
going to run into anything like that.”
“This looks like the sort of country he said bears frequented,” was
Hardware’s response. “I don’t see why we should be scared to meet one,
either.”
“I suppose you’d go right up and say ‘Goodmorning, bear,’” snorted
Persimmons.
“Well, we’ve got our rifles, and they are supposed to be powerful
enough to bring down any bear, and----”
“Howling hammerheads, what’s the matter now?”
The question was a natural one, for Hardware had stopped short and was
staring ahead of them down the steep hillside.
“Why, something’s moving down there. It may be a bear. Get your rifle
ready.”
Hardware’s face took on a determined expression and he looked to the
mechanism of his rifle and slipped a magazine into place. Persimmons
did the same, muttering to himself as he did so that it was no use
fighting a bear, and that they’d better give Bruin a wide berth.
But the next instant their anxiety was relieved and gave place to high
good humor. The object Hardware had spied moving among the rocks and
brambles was not a grizzly, but the recreant White-eye, cropping the
grass as he moved about.
Suddenly he looked up and saw the boys. With upraised head and pricked
ears he watched their advance.
“Goodness! I hope he will let us get near him,” said Hardware. “I don’t
much fancy a chase through this sort of country.”
“He looks as wild as a hawk,” was his companion’s response.
Indeed White-eye did not appear as if he meant to be docilely captured.
As the boys cautiously crept forward, trying to avoid any action that
might startle him, the pony rolled his eyes back in the manner that
had given him his name and extended his nostrils, sniffing the air
suspiciously. Both boys had brought along some grain in their pockets,
out of the supply carried for emergencies, and now Hardware dipped his
hand into his pocket and extended it, full of oats, for White-eye’s
inspection.
But seemingly, the pony had no mind to be caught just then. He gave a
plunge and snort and dashed off.
“Oh, gracious!” groaned Hardware. “There he goes, lickety-split; it
doesn’t look as if we’d ever catch him.”
“Howling hen-roosts, no!” gasped Persimmons, who had just barked his
shin on a sharp rock. “And I tell you one thing, Hardware, I’m not
going to chase very far after him. Hullo, what’s he doing now?”
White-eye had paused with startling suddenness in his mad career, and
the next minute the boys realized what had caused his abrupt stoppage.
His long tether, with the stone attached, had caught around the stump
of a sage bush as it bounded down the hill, and twisted round the stump
two or three times had captured the runaway as effectually as if he had
been tied by human hands.
“Well, that’s what I call luck,” declared Hardware fervently.
“It’s all of that and then some,” responded Persimmons puffingly.
“Let’s hurry up, he may get loose again,” urged his companion, and the
two boys hastened forward regardless of brambles or rocks.
In a jiffy they had the lariat untied and were holding tightly on to
it, prepared for another wild dash on the part of White-eye. But now
that they had hold of the rope, the pony appeared, with equine wisdom,
to perceive that further resistance was useless. He followed docilely
enough while they led him up the hillside.
“I hope the others have had as good luck,” remarked Hardware as they
trudged along.
“I hope so, too,” responded Persimmons, “I wouldn’t wish my worst enemy
any more of this kind of work than could be helped.”
But just as they were congratulating themselves on the easy capture
of the stray a sudden demon appeared to enter White-eye’s being. He
started leaping and bucking and snorting as if possessed.
“What on earth is the matter with him now?” gasped Hardware in
wonderment.
“Bucking beefsteaks, he acts like he had a bad tummy ache,” exclaimed
Persimmons; “maybe he’s been eating some of those snake berries.
They’re enough to make anybody cut up if he takes too many of them,
and one’s a-plenty--wow! Look! Harry! Look there!”
[Illustration: ... a great brown form arose on its hind legs and stood
looking at them.--_Page 131._]
The cause of White-eye’s sudden alarm became startlingly apparent. From
a patch of blueberries just ahead of them, where he had evidently been
feeding, a great brown form arose on its hind legs and stood looking at
them.
“A g-g-g-g-grizzly!” yelled Hardware, quite forgetting his rifle that
was slung over his back by a bandolier.
“Run! Run for your life!” shouted Persimmons, equally forgetful of his
weapon, which, in order to lead White-eye, he had been compelled to
sling over his shoulders in a similar way.
The bear dropped on all fours and began coming toward them without
undue haste, but with a sort of deadly deliberation.