The Grizzly at Bay
Tearing down upon him in a rapid, lumbering gallop was a monstrous bear.
It needed no second glance to tell that it was a grizzly. The little eyes
incandescent with rage, the big hump just back of the ears, the enormous
size and bulk could belong to none other than this dreaded king of the
Rockies.
For an instant every drop of blood in Bert's body seemed to rush to his
head. It suffused his eyes with a red film and sounded like thunder in
his ears. Then the flood receded and left him cold as ice. He was himself
again, cool, self-reliant, with his mental processes working like
lightning.
He had no time to unfasten the canoe. Long before he could get in and
push off, the bear would have been on top of him. The beast was not more
than thirty feet away and two or three more lunges would bring him to the
water's edge.
Bert's first impulse was to dive into the lake and seek to escape by
swimming. But this he discarded at once. Fast as he was, he knew that
the grizzly could outswim him.
With a quick turn to the left, he plunged into the woods, running like a
deer. The bear lost a second or two in trying to check his momentum. Then
he turned also and went crashing through the underbrush in pursuit.
Had the going been open Bert might have made good his escape. His legs
and wind had once won him a Marathon from the fleetest flyers of the
world. But here conditions were against him. Vines reached out to trip
him. Impenetrable thickets turned him aside. He had to dodge and twist
and squirm his way through the undergrowth.
But the bear had no such handicaps. His great body crashed straight
through all obstacles. The fearful padding of those monstrous feet came
nearer and nearer. Bert's legs worked like piston rods, but to no avail.
The distance between them steadily decreased, and now he could hear the
labored breathing of his enraged pursuer close on his heels. It was like
a hideous nightmare, and gradually the conviction began to force itself
upon him that he was running his last race. Once in the grip of that
monster, nothing could save him from a frightful death.
But he would not give up. The old "never say die" spirit that had carried
him through so many tight places still persisted. On, on, he ran, putting
every ounce of speed and strength in one last spurt. He could feel the
hot breath of the grizzly and the padding feet were terribly near. Then,
just as the beast was ready to hurl its huge bulk against him, Bert swung
on his heel like a pivot, doubled in his tracks and flashed back past his
pursuer, just escaping a lunge from the outstretched paw. But that
marvelous swaying motion of the hips that had eluded so many tacklers
on the football field stood him in stead, and he just grazed the enormous
claw that tried to stop him.
That strategy proved his salvation. The grizzly plunged along for many
feet before he could turn, and in that instant's respite Bert saw his
chance.
Right in front of him was a tall oak whose lowest branch was full twenty
feet from the ground. Like a streak Bert reached it, whirled around to
the farther side and swarmed up it like a monkey. He reached the fork and
swung himself out on the branch with not a second to spare. The grizzly,
frothing with rage and hate, had hurled himself against the tree and his
up-reaching claw had torn the bark in a vain attempt to clutch the leg
that he only missed by inches.
But he was balked. He could not climb, and the tree was too big for him
to tear down, as he might have done had it been slenderer or younger. By
the narrowest of margins he had failed to add one more victim to those
who had already fallen before his ferocity.
Not that he had relinquished hope. He had lost in the open attack, but he
still had the resource of a siege. Soon or late he was sure his victim
would have to descend. His victory was only deferred. Back and forth and
round and round the tree he paced, growling fiercely, at times rearing
himself on his hind legs and tearing savagely at the trunk. His open
jaws, slavering with foam and showing his great yellow fangs, were full
of fearful menace, and his wicked eyes glowed like a furnace. His temper,
evil at all times, had been rendered worse by the fury of the chase and
disappointment at his failure. Baffled rage bristled in every hair of his
shaggy hide. At that moment he would have charged a regiment.
Bert settled himself in the crotch of the tree and gazed at his thwarted
enemy with a sensation of indescribable relief. He was drenched with
sweat, his clothes were torn by that wild race through the brush, his
breath came in gasps that were almost sobs, and his heart was beating
like a triphammer. He had looked into the very eyes of death and almost
by a miracle had escaped. For the present, at least, he was safe. His
giant adversary could not reach him.
Had he been entirely alone in this wild section of the mountains, or had
his whereabouts been unknown, his situation would have been hopeless.
The bear might settle down to a siege of many days, and he had powerful
allies in sleep and hunger. If wearied nature should assert her rights
and Bert in a moment of drowsiness topple from his perch, or if, driven
by starvation, he should make a last despairing effort to escape, the
chances would be all against him. The instinct of the grizzly told him
that, if not interfered with, time alone was all that was necessary to
bring his foe within his grasp.
But there were Dick and Tom to be reckoned with, and beyond them was
Melton, who would surely organize a party and come to his aid. He knew
that his comrades would not leave him in the lurch and that they would
risk their lives to save him from his perilous position. No doubt but at
that moment they were working with might and main to devise some plan of
rescue.
But what could they do? He had taken the canoe and they had no means of
getting over to him. Had they known of the narrow peninsula on the
farther side, they might have worked their way around the end of the
lake. But they thought the place was an island, only to be reached by
water. Both were strong swimmers and could easily win their way over. But
they couldn't do that and keep their guns dry, and without weapons they
could do nothing.
In the wild dash through the woods he had described almost a perfect
circle, and the tree in which he was sheltered commanded a view of the
canoe and the shimmering water beyond. It maddened him to see the boat
rocking there idly, as useless to him at that moment as though it were
a thousand miles away.
If he had only brought his rifle with him! How thoughtless of him to take
such a chance! The words of Mr. Melton at the breakfast table recurred to
him and he fairly writhed in an agony of self-reproach.
The grizzly had by this time realized that nothing could be done for the
present but wait. He ceased his restless swaying to and fro and squatted
down on his haunches, his murderous eyes never leaving Bert for an
instant.
On the other side of the lake Dick and Tom were working with feverish
energy, almost beside themselves with fear at their comrade's terrible
plight.
They had awakened soon after Bert's departure, and had been startled for
a moment at finding him gone. The absence of the canoe, however, followed
by a glimpse of it on the shore across the water, had reassured them, and
they had waited more or less patiently for his reappearance.
Suddenly Dick started to his feet.
"What's that?" he cried, pointing to the woods near the water's edge.
"Where?" exclaimed Tom, startled out of his usual calm by the evident
alarm in Dick's voice.
"In that big clump of trees over to the right," was the answer, and then
his voice rose to a shout: "Great Scott! It's a grizzly."
"And there comes Bert," yelled Tom. "Bert, Bert," they shouted wildly,
rushing down to the shore and waving their hands frantically.
They had seen Bert dart off into the woods with the bear in hot pursuit,
but the outcome of the chase had been hidden from their view. They did
not dare to think of what might have happened, and they looked at each
other in helpless anguish.
"Quick!" yelled Dick, wrenching himself loose from the paralysis that had
seized him. "A raft. We've got to get over there with the guns. We've
got a paddle left and we can push ourselves over. Oh, Bert, Bert!" he
groaned.
But Tom intervened.
"No good," he said hurriedly. "It'll take too long to make it and we'd be
too slow in getting across. The canoe's our only chance. You get the guns
ready."
He kicked off his shoes, tore off his clothes, dived head foremost into
the lake, and with long, powerful strokes headed for the farther shore.
He had an almost amphibious love for the water and the task he had set
for himself was easy. But his fear for Bert and his impatience at the
delay before he could help him made it seem to him as though he were
going at a snail's pace, although in reality he was cleaving the water
like a fish.
Bert, looking out from his perch in the tree, suddenly had his attention
attracted by something on the smooth surface. He thought at first that
it was a water fowl. Then he looked more closely, and his heart gave a
great bound as he recognized that it was one of his comrades, although he
could not tell which one at that distance. He saw that the swimmer was
headed straight for the canoe, and he surmised the plan in an instant.
"Good old Dick and Tom," he exulted to himself. "They're two pals in a
thousand. I knew they'd get me out of this or die in the trying."
But the bear, too, seemed to realize that something was happening. His
scent was phenomenally keen, and the wind was blowing directly toward
him from the lake. He sniffed the air for a moment and then, with a
threatening growl, looked toward the water. Then he rose slowly and
backed in that direction, still keeping an eye on Bert.
The latter took alarm at once. Here was a new complication. If the bear
should discover the swimmer, who was now nearing the shore, it might be
fatal. At all events his attention must be distracted.
With Bert, to think was to act. He grasped the branch tightly and swung
himself down at full length, so that his dangling feet were almost within
the bear's reach. The grizzly, with an exultant "whuff," galloped
clumsily back to the tree and made a ferocious swipe at his enemy, who
pulled himself up just in time. Snarling and mouthing horribly, the bear
once more moved toward the lake, torn between the desire to investigate
and the fear that his victim might escape. Once more Bert worked the same
maneuver and again the bear "fell" for it.
But the crisis was past. There was no need now to repeat. Tom had reached
the canoe, climbed into it, and with powerful strokes of the paddle sent
it flying toward the mainland. Not, however, till his heart had been
thrilled with joy by Bert's yell that rang far out on the water.
"I'm up a tree, old man," called the voice that Tom had feared he might
never hear again, "but I'm all right."
"Thank God," answered Tom, and tried to add something else, but couldn't.
Once more on shore he jubilantly reported to Dick, whose delight at the
news of Bert's present safety passed all bounds.
The first rejoicing over, they hastily laid their plans.
"Are the guns ready?" asked Tom as he got into his clothes.
"They're all right," answered Dick. "To make sure, I unloaded and filled
them up with new cartridges. Everything's in perfect shape."
They did not underestimate the task before them. They were taking their
lives in their hands in attacking this monster of the wilds. But had he
been ten times as big or ten times as savage they would not have
hesitated an instant, with Bert's life as the stake.
Knowing that the wind was blowing toward the bear from where they were,
they deemed it wise, as a plan of campaign, to paddle to the other side
of the island and come upon the foe from the rear. If they could take him
unawares, and pump a bullet or two into his great carcass before he had
time to charge, their chances of success would be immensely greater.
Moving as warily as Indians, they dipped their paddles in the water and
made for the upper end of the supposed island. They rounded the point
and disembarked. Clutching their guns firmly and straining their eyes, as
they gazed into the dark green recesses of the woods, they advanced,
scarcely daring to breathe.
"I'm going to signal," whispered Dick. "That'll warn Bert that we're
coming and he'll keep the bear busy." And the next instant the mournful
cry of the whippoorwill floated through the forest.
It was an accomplishment that the boys had frequently practised, and the
counterfeit was perfect enough to deceive the birds themselves.
They waited an instant, and then they heard Bert's answering
"whippoorwill."
The bear paid no attention to the familiar sound, and it was evident that
his suspicions had not been aroused.
Guiding themselves by the repetition of the cry Dick and Tom pressed
forward, their guns ready for instant use at the first sight of the
enemy.
Bert had promptly grasped the meaning of the signal. It was imperative
that the bear's attention should be centered on himself alone. The only
thing he found in his pocket was a jack-knife, but he threw this with
such precision that it struck the bear full on the point of the nose and
evoked a roar of fury. A shower of twigs and branches added insult to
injury, until the great beast was beside himself with rage. He had no
thought or eyes or ears for anything but Bert.
And now the whippoorwill was close at hand.
Two spurts of flame leaped from the forest on the right. With a ferocious
snarl the grizzly whirled about in the direction of the shots. As he did
so two more bullets plowed their way into his breast. He tore savagely at
the wounds, and then plunged fiercely in the direction of his unseen
foes.
But his hour had struck. Another volley halted him in his tracks. He
sagged, coughed, and fell in a crumpled mass to the ground.
With a wild hurrah, Dick and Tom broke from cover, dropped their guns and
threw their arms about Bert, who had slid down to the foot of the tree.
The strain had been so great and the reaction was so tremendous that none
of them for a moment knew what he was doing. They shouted, laughed and
grasped each others' hands, too excited for coherent speech. They had
been through many perils together, but none so great and terrible as
this. And now all three were together again, safe and sound, and the
grizzly----
"Look out," screamed Bert, his face going white.
They jumped as though they had been shot.
Not ten feet away was the grizzly coming down on them like a locomotive.
His mouth was open, his eyes blazing, and with the blood flowing from
his wounds he made a hideous picture as he rushed forward. They had
forgotten to reckon with the wonderful tenacity of life that makes a
grizzly bear the hardest thing in the world to kill. Six bullets were
embedded in his carcass and his life was ebbing. But his fiendish
ferocity was unimpaired, and he had gathered himself together for one
last onslaught.
There was no time to think, no chance to resist. The guns were on the
ground, and merely to stoop for them meant that the bear would be upon
them before they could rise. With one bound the boys leaped aside, and
scattered through the woods at the top of their speed.
The bear hesitated a second, as though undecided whom to follow, and then
put after Bert.
But it was a very different race this time from that of an hour before.
Then the odds had been against the fugitive; now they were with him.
The rage of the bear was greater, but his speed and strength were
failing. Bert easily increased his distance, and as he ran his quick mind
formed a plan of action.
Running in a circle, he gradually drew his pursuer around to the tree
where he had sought refuge. He had figured on grabbing one of the guns
and shinning up to the friendly crotch, there to despatch his foe at
leisure. But as he rose with the rifle in his hand he saw that there was
no time for this.
Dropping on one knee he took careful aim, and as the grizzly rose on its
hind legs to grasp him, fired point blank at the spot just below the fore
leg that marked the heart. Then he jumped aside.
The bear spun around once, toppled and fell with a tremendous crash on
the spot where Bert had been a moment before.
Once more Bert raised his rifle, looking narrowly for any sign of life.
But the last bullet had done the work. A convulsive shudder ran through
the bear's enormous length. Then he stiffened out and a glaze crept over
the wicked eyes. He had fought his last fight.
And as Bert looked down at him, his relief and exultation were tempered
by a feeling of respect for the brute's courage. Never for a moment had
he shown the white feather. He had fought gallantly and gone down
fighting.
Tom and Dick, who had now rejoined him, shared his feeling.
"Nothing 'yellow' about that old rascal but his hide," commented Dick.
"A fighter from Fightersville," added Tom.
When their jubilation had somewhat subsided, they measured their quarry.
"Ten feet four inches, from the tip of the nose to the root of the tail,"
announced Tom. "Gee, but he's a monster."
"The daddy of them all," said Dick.
"He must weigh over half a ton," judged Bert.
They looked with a shudder at the terrible claws and fangs.
"They say that a grizzly has forty-two teeth," remarked Tom, "but I
thought he had forty-two thousand when he was bearing down upon us with
his mouth open."
"Well, now the question is what are we going to do with him," said Dick.
"That's a pleasant way to put it," laughed Bert. "A little while ago the
question was what was he going to do with us."
"I don't know," he mused, "what we can do. We can't skin him, because we
haven't the proper knives, and then, too, it takes an expert to get that
hide off without spoiling it. On the other hand, we can't leave it here
and expect to find it in the morning. The other animals will feast on
the carcass, and the skin won't be any good when they've got through
tearing it. If it were a deer we could hang it up out of reach. But we
couldn't even move this mountain, let alone lift it."
"Of course we can come back and get the teeth and claws, anyway," put in
Dick. "But I hate like thunder to lose the skin."
"I tell you what," suggested Bert. "Let's hustle around and get as many
big stones as we can find. We'll pile up a sort of funeral mound around
him that the animals can't work through or pull away. Then in the morning
we'll get some of the boys from the ranch to come up with us and get the
hide. It may not work, but I think it will, and, anyway, we've got to
take the chance."
Luckily for the carrying out of the plan, big stones abounded in the
vicinity and a few minutes of hard work sufficed to gather together
enough to make it probable that the body would remain undisturbed till
they came for it.
"And now, fellows," said Bert, gazing at the sun, "it's the quick sneak
for us if we want to get back to the ranch before dark. Forward, march."
With a last look at the scene of their thrilling experience, they boarded
the canoe, shot across the lake, and, packing up their traps, set out for
the ranch. They made quick time of it, as the road was now familiar and
led downhill all the way. Yet, despite their speed, dusk was settling
down when they reached the house, to receive a hearty greeting from their
hosts, who were becoming a little anxious at the delay.
Mrs. Melton paled as she heard the story of their frightful danger, and
Melton himself was deeply stirred at their narrow escape. He, better than
any one else, realized all the horror of the case had victory declared on
the side of the bear.
"You'll never be nearer death than you were to-day, my boys," he said
gravely; "and a kind of death that I don't care to think about. I'll send
Sandy and some of the men up to-morrow to get the skin, and I hope that
hide will be the nearest you ever come to seeing a grizzly again. You
came through all right to-day, but it's the kind of stunt a man doesn't
get way with twice. But now," he added more lightly, "I'll bet that
you're hungry enough to eat nails. Hurry up and wash and get down to the
table."
"By the way," said Mrs. Melton, her eyes twinkling, "where are those fish
you promised me for supper?"
The boys looked at each other in consternation.
"Great Scott!" exclaimed Bert. "We forgot to bring them."