LESTER SHOWS HIS COURAGE.
THE young hunters had advanced nearly to the end of the path and were
now standing within a few feet of the clearing in which Godfrey had
built his lean-to, and which had been torn down in order to make room
for Don Gordon’s bear trap. There were several large trees growing
beside the path, and Bob quickly sprang behind one of them, leaving
Lester standing alone within twenty yards of one of the largest bears
that had ever been seen in that part of the country. Without an
instant’s hesitation Bob raised his rifle and pointed it at the breast
of the animal, which had reared itself upon its hind legs, but the
muzzle of the weapon waved about in the most alarming manner, and he
could not hold it still to save his life. He found that there was a vast
difference between facing a bear when he had twenty fierce dogs and as
many armed horsemen to back him, and confronting the same animal on foot
with but a single companion to depend on. After a moment’s reflection he
lowered his rifle, for he knew that it would be folly to fire and wound
the bear. He thought the safest plan would be to rely upon the superior
skill and courage of his companion.
“Go for her!” said Bob, in a scarcely audible whisper. “Shoot her in the
eye if you can; if not, take her under the fore leg.”
Bob kept his eyes fastened upon the bear, expecting every instant to see
her fall stone dead beneath Lester’s deadly aim; but the animal stood
erect, closely regarding the intruders, and finally opening her mouth
and showing a frightful array of teeth; she uttered another angry growl
and moved slowly along the path. Then Bob looked toward his companion,
wondering why he did not shoot. One glance showed him the reason. The
hunter who had shot bears and panthers in Michigan, as ordinary hunters
shoot squirrels, was overcome with terror. He stood in the middle of the
path, holding fast to the stock of his rifle, the muzzle of which he had
allowed to fall until it was buried in the mud. His face was as pale as
death, and his eyes, which were fastened upon the savage beast before
him, seemed to have grown to twice their usual size.
“Shoot! shoot!” cried Bob, in great dismay. “She’ll be right on top of
us in a minute more.”
But Lester was past shooting or doing any thing else. His fear had taken
away all his strength, and even the knowledge that his life was in
danger could not arouse him. Bob saw that something must be done at
once. With trembling hands he raised his rifle to his shoulder, and
drawing a hasty bead on the bear’s breast, pulled the trigger. Without
waiting to see the effect of his shot he threw down his gun, made one or
two quick jumps backward and placing his hands upon a small sapling
ascended it with the greatest agility.
A very few seconds sufficed to place him in the topmost branches, and
when he found that he could go no higher he stopped and looked down to
see what was going on below. The bear was just scrambling to her feet
and the sight made Bob’s heart bound with excitement and triumph, for
then he knew that his bullet had not been thrown away. It had knocked
the animal over; but the celerity of her movements and the hoarse growls
she uttered proved that it had not reached a vital part, but had only
made a wound severe enough to drive her almost frantic with rage. She
dropped on all-fours and came down the path at the top of her speed, and
there was Lester standing as motionless as ever. Bob might have thought
he was waiting for the animal to approach within five feet of him so
that he could make that famous shot he had so often talked about, had he
not seen his friend’s pale face and noted the position in which he held
his rifle.
“Run! run!” gasped Bob, who fully expected to see his companion pulled
down and torn in pieces before his eyes. “Take to a tree—a sapling, and
then you will be safe, for it is too small for the bear to climb!”
These words, and the sight of the fearful peril to which he was exposed,
had the effect of arousing Lester from his lethargy. He let his rifle
fall, and with even more agility than Bob had exhibited but a few
seconds before, laid hold of a sapling and climbed it like a squirrel.
He was none too quick in his movements, for the bear, clumsy as she
looked, ran with surprising swiftness, and was at the foot of the
sapling before Lester was fairly out of reach. Rising quickly on her
hind feet she thrust one of her paws up into the branches, and the loud
scream of terror Lester uttered frightened Bob so badly that he came
near tumbling out of his perch. As soon as he had taken a firmer hold of
the branches he turned to look at his friend, and was greatly relieved
to see that he had nothing to fear.
Lester realized his peril now, and was full of life and action. Seizing
a branch above his head he drew up his feet and so escaped the savage
clutch which the bear made at him. It was a narrow escape, and Lester’s
terror was so great that it was all he could do to climb still higher
among the branches, and put himself in a place of safety. The slender
sapling swayed and rocked as he worked his way upward, and Lester could
not yet believe that the danger was over.
“O, Bob! Bob! what shall I do?” he managed to ask, as he clung to his
frail support and looked down at the bear’s ugly paw, which was now and
then thrust up among the branches, altogether too close to his feet for
comfort.
“Crawl up as high as you can and hold fast,” was the reply. “The bear
can’t hurt you now.”
“But how am I ever going to get home?” whined Lester.
“I don’t know. We’ll talk about that by and by. All we have to do now is
to keep out of her reach. Why didn’t you shoot her as you used to shoot
those bears up in Michigan?”
Before Lester had time to reply the attention of himself and companion
was called to two new actors which suddenly appeared on the scene. One
of them they would have recognised, if they had not been too badly
frightened to recognise any thing. It was one of Don Gordon’s hounds. He
and his mate rushed straight at the bear, and in a second more a most
terrific battle was in progress. The snarls and growls of the combatants
made Lester’s blood run cold. A moment later Don’s voice was heard
encouraging the dogs.
“Hi! hi! there,” he shouted. “Take him, you rascals. Pull him down!”
The sharp report of a rifle followed his words, and the next thing
Lester knew he was plunging headlong through the branches. The sapling
in which he had taken refuge received a sudden and violent shock, as if
some mighty body had been thrown against it, and Lester, whose extreme
terror had rendered him almost helpless, lost his hold and fell to the
ground. He caught frantically at the frail twigs as he passed through
them, but they did not check his rapid descent, and he landed with a
concussion that at almost any other time would have rendered him
senseless. But he did not mind his injuries now in the least. He jumped
up the instant he touched the ground, and looked about him with the
utmost consternation. There were three enraged brutes near him which
were making the leaves fly in every direction as they rushed fiercely at
one another, but his frightened eyes cheated him into believing that
there were four times as many. Just as he gained his feet he saw twelve
bears knock twelve dogs down with one stroke of their paws, and then
these twelve bears turned and made at him with open mouths. He gave
himself up for lost; but at that instant a roar like that of a cannon
sounded close to his ear, and the twelve bears sank to the ground all in
a heap. So did Lester who could endure the strain no longer. As he fell
he saw twelve Don Gordons rush up with heavy double-barrel shot-guns in
their hands, and each selecting his bear poured another charge of
buckshot into the animal’s head. But there was only one bear there—at
least there was only one engaged in the fight—and only one Don Gordon.
The last time we saw Don was on the day David shipped his captured
quails up the river on the Emma Deane. He and his brother had labored
faithfully to help their humble friend fill his contract, and when this
work was done they were ready to accompany their father on a trip to
Coldwater, which had long been talked of, and which the general had
good-naturedly postponed in order that Don and Bert might assist David
in making his enterprise successful. They intended to be absent a week
or more. The general went on business, and Don and Bert to visit a young
friend whom they had often entertained at their own house, and whose
horses and hounds were the envy of all the boys in the country for miles
around. They made the journey on horseback and were accompanied by their
hounds. Don was armed with his trusty rifle, with which he hoped to make
great havoc among the deer and bears that were so abundant in the county
in which their friend Bob Harrington lived, while Bert carried his light
fowling piece.
[Illustration: HOW LESTER WENT BEAR-HUNTING.]
Bob Harrington, with whom Bert intended that he and Don should take up
their abode in case they had gone on that hunting expedition which the
reader will remember was broken up by the arrival of their cousins
Clarence and Marshal Gordon, was a young Nimrod—not such a one as Lester
Brigham, but one whose exploits had been witnessed by all the men and
boys in the settlement in which he lived. His rifle was the truest, his
hounds were the stanchest, and his horse was the fleetest, and could
take his fences the easiest of any in the county, not even excepting
those of Mr. Harrington, Bob’s father, who had been a hunter all his
life. Bob never boasted that he would stand still and allow a bear to
approach within five feet of him before he would shoot him, for he knew
that that would be a harder test than his courage could endure; but he
was not afraid to walk up and finish any bear his dogs had hold of, and
nearly every hunter in the neighborhood had seen him do it. The
magnificent pair of antlers on which Don and Bert were accustomed to
hang their gloves and riding-whips, and which were fastened to the wall
of their room over their writing table, as well as the soft bearskin
that served as a rug by the side of their bed, were presents from their
friend Bob, and were only two out of a score or more of such articles
which he had sent to his acquaintances all over the state. The animals
that once wore these antlers and skins had all been brought low by Bob’s
own unerring rifle.
With such a hunter for a companion during a week’s shooting, the boys
expected to learn something, especially Don, who told himself that
before the visit was ended Master Bob would find that there was at least
one boy in Mississippi who was not afraid to follow where he dared lead.
And he made his resolution good. While Bert, with Bob’s setter for a
companion, was roaming about over Mr. Harrington’s extensive plantation,
making double shots on quail, woodcock and snipe, and Mrs. Harrington
and the general were seated in their easy-chairs by the huge
old-fashioned fire-place, talking over their business matters, Don and
Bob were riding to the hounds, braving all sorts of weather, and
bringing in so many trophies of their skill that the general and his
host were astonished. No dinner in that house was considered complete
without its wild turkey or saddle of venison; and as for such game as
quails and woodcock, the family feasted on them until they were actually
tired of them.
Don was given ample opportunity to test his skill with the rifle and
exhibit his nerve in trying situations, and he finally became so
accustomed to walking up and shooting a bear when the dogs had him
“stretched” that he thought no more of it than he did of bringing a
squirrel out of the top of a hickory or stopping a woodcock on the wing.
When the visit was ended and he returned to his home, he had more than
one bearskin strapped behind his saddle, and, better than that, he
carried with him a confidence in his own powers which ultimately proved
to be the salvation of one who, had their situations been reversed,
would have deserted him in the most cowardly manner.
The boys reached home one night after dark (it was the night of the same
day on which David Evans received the money for his quails), and after
relating to their mother and sisters as much of the week’s history as
they could crowd into two hours’ conversation, they went up stairs and
tumbled into bed. They were tired, of course, but still they had energy
enough left to plan a campaign for the next day.
“We mustn’t forget our bear trap on the island,” said Bert, as he
settled himself snugly between the sheets.
“That’s so,” answered Don. “We’ll go up there the first thing in the
morning. If a bear is going to get into that trap at all, he has had
plenty of time to do it. Whoever awakes first after daylight must arouse
the other. I say, Bert! if I had had as much experience a few weeks ago
as I have now, we couldn’t have been driven off the island until we had
found out what it was that uttered those horrid growls. I feel ashamed
of myself when I think it was nobody but Godfrey Evans.”
“But we didn’t know it at the time,” said Bert.
“Of course not. If we had we should have made him show himself. Just let
him try that trick again if he dares.”
As it happened neither one of the boys awoke at daylight. They were
locked in a dreamless slumber until they were aroused by the ringing of
the breakfast-bell. They dressed themselves with all haste, and with
many exclamations of regret, hurried down stairs. They were not so
impatient but that they could take time to eat a hearty meal; but still
they finished their breakfast before the rest of the family did, and
asking to be excused ran off to get ready for their trip to the island.
Don went up stairs after the guns and ammunition (he brought down his
father’s heavy double-barrel for Bert’s use), and his brother went to
the shop after the oars belonging to the canoe, and to call the two
hounds which had accompanied them on their former expedition up the
bayou. As they did not intend to be absent more than three or four hours
no lunch was provided for them.
The brothers met again at the jetty below the summer-house, where they
found the canoe riding safely at its moorings. She was quickly loaded
and pushed from the shore, and after an hour’s easy rowing the young
hunters found themselves within sight of Bruin’s Island. As they
approached it, Bert, who was steering, began to believe that if Godfrey
Evans had not returned and taken up his abode in his old quarters, they
would certainly find somebody or something else there, for the hounds,
which up to this moment had been curled up in the bow, now arose to
their feet, and after looking all about as if taking their bearings,
turned their noses toward the island and eagerly snuffed the air. Did
they remember their former experience there, or did the breeze, which
was blowing straight down the bayou, bring some taint to their sensitive
nostrils? Bert, who closely watched their movements, could not tell
until he saw the long hair on the back of Carlo’s neck begin to stand
erect. Then the question was answered.
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