THE TERROR OF THE MOUNTAINS
The long trail wound and twisted far ahead, shimmering faintly in the
light of the westering sun. Miles and miles of wild bunch grass, sage
brush, and desolate sand met the eye, flanked on either side by high
mountain ranges.
"Good Lord, what a trail!" muttered Norman Grey, regaining his seat with
difficulty as Blackbird plunged her right foot into a concealed gopher
hole. "Will this cursed valley never end? It's getting worse all the
time."
Almost a week had now passed since he had swung away from Big Glen.
Almost a week, and yet how much that brief period of six days contained.
What desolate regions he had traversed, what streams forded, and what
lonely nights he had spent upon the cold hard ground beneath the starry
canopy of heaven. Thrice had he met Indians encamped along the way.
Friendly were they, and had provided him with a liberal supply of tender
moose meat. A mighty leveller is the northern trail. Here rank, title,
creed and race fade into absurd insignificance. Here all useless
appendages are swept aside. Here each stands for what he is, and his
sole worth lies in himself. And here, too, in a region so vast, where
the loneliness mocks and appals, the sight of a human face, though dark
and uncouth, thrills the heart with a sweet gladness.
These children of the wandering foot looked with admiration upon the
pale-faced stranger. They conversed with him in broken English, and
slowly shook their heads when Grey pointed away to the left and
mentioned the word "Hishu." As he started to leave the camp an Indian
woman, old and scrawny, had laid her long, slim fingers upon the pommel
of the saddle and looked up anxiously into his face.
"No, no, Hishu!" she cried, waving her left hand to and fro. "Bad, bad,
ugh!"
So impressed was Grey by her earnestness and vehement manner that a
foreboding chill smote his heart, and the reins dropped from his hand
upon Blackbird's neck.
"Me no savvey. What you mean?" he demanded.
More emphatic now than ever did the unkempt creature become. She tried
to explain herself, but her knowledge of the English language was
slight, and her words developed into a torrent of unintelligible jargon.
Seeing she was making but little impression upon the rider she suddenly
seized the bridle with both hands, wheeled Blackbird sharply about, and
headed her down the trail toward Big Glen.
"Go, go dat way," she cried. "No come back! No, no, Hishu!"
A slight smile of pity flitted across Grey's face at this woman's
peculiar action. The momentary feeling of awe had vanished. He
remembered how the Indians in the vicinity of Big Glen feared and
shunned the Hishu region. No doubt these were of the same tribe, and
believed the wild tales.
Two days had passed since then, and try as he might he could not banish
that incident from his mind. It came to him now late this afternoon as
Blackbird carefully picked her way among the innumerable gopher holes.
The whole region was conducive to deep reflection. Sombre stood the
rock-ribbed mountains. Silent throbbed the moistless air. Iron-grey
stretched the sunburnt valley. To the lone rider crouched in his saddle
the very atmosphere seemed to pulse with undercurrents of mystic
forebodings. Hundreds of miles was he from civilisation, thousands of
miles from home, a mere speck crawling over an execrable trail. What did
it all amount to anyway? he asked himself time and time again. What had
he gained during those five years of service in the Force? He was no
nearer to her now than ever. What hopes had thrilled his heart when
first he had entered upon his world-wide quest. He would find her, oh,
yes. The world was large, he knew, but love would make it small. And
this was the end--oblivion--merely for the sake of a child.
Presently Blackbird paused with a sharp jerk, causing Grey to look
quickly up. The cause was at once apparent, for rammed across the trail
was a long ragged ditch about three feet wide and four deep. With
widely-extended nostrils and flashing eyes Blackbird had planted her
forefeet close to the edge, and stood looking anxiously down into the
excavation. On every side and far ahead stretched a chaotic maze of
trenches. Some were short and narrow, while others were deep, and rods
in length. This Grey knew to be the work of hungry bears in search of
fat and toothsome gophers.
"Heavens, what a mess!" he exclaimed, as his eyes scanned the scene.
"Grizzlies, I believe! There must be an army of them in this place. I
only hope they've had their supper by this time, and will leave us
alone. But if they do come they will receive a warm welcome," and he
laid his hand upon the smooth dark barrel of his comforting rifle. "They
will be flesh and blood, anyway, things I can see, and not those
horrible unseen devils which have been torturing me the whole afternoon.
Come on, you swine of the mountains!" he cried. "I fear you not. I'll
send more fiery demons into your tough hides than the Master did long
ago into the whole Gadarean herd." Grey was himself once more. The
presence of danger affected him like a tonic. He even laughed at his
morbid fears as he reined Blackbird to the left, and soothed her
restless mettle with words of encouragement.
Slowly, very slowly the noble animal picked her way between the
innumerable pitfalls. She was calm now. The spirit of the master was
hers, and all fear was banished. For over an hour they moved steadily
forward, and at length gained firmer ground where the earth was not
disturbed. The sun was sinking behind a mountain peak as they left the
valley and entered upon a deep ravine. The ascent was gradual, and at
times the trail hung over high wooded banks. Up and up they moved
through dark battalions of pine, spruce and fir. It was a weird place,
and Grey breathed a sigh of relief when at length the summit was
attained. Here he dismounted, tied Blackbird, and climbed far up into a
large tree, towering high above its fellows. From this lofty position he
was enabled to obtain an excellent view of the surrounding country. Back
to the right he saw the valley over which they had lately painfully
travelled, while ahead, and somewhat to the left, a river was to be seen
lying like a long silver thread athwart the dusky landscape.
"It must be the Hishu," Grey muttered, as his eyes followed it away
northward. "The place I'm bound for is, no doubt, somewhere over there.
Should reach it to-morrow, and what then? Oh, well, I'm not going to
worry about that now. It will soon be dark, and I must find a good
camping spot. Down by the river is a likely place where those trees rise
like millions of pointed spears. There should be grass for Blackbird
down there on the level."
Leaving his lofty perch he descended the tree, unfastened Blackbird, and
sprang into the saddle. Down the hill they slowly moved, the trail--if
it could be called a trail--becoming more difficult all the time. At
length they reached a hollow through which a little brook gurgled on its
way to the river. Grey looked anxiously up and down, hoping to find a
reach of wild meadow grass for the horse.
"Guess we'll have to go farther, lady," he remarked. "We must get you
some supper, and there's nothing here."
Beyond the brook the trail wound up a steep incline, and curved sharply
to the left around a large and almost perpendicular rock. Blackbird
ascended the slope with an eager pace, for the tang of the wild meadows
down by the river had drifted to her sensitive nostrils. She had just
reached the flinty wall when with a terrified snort she threw high her
head and reeled back upon her haunches. Instinctively Grey clutched the
mane with his right hand to keep from falling and peered keenly forward.
The cause of the disturbance was immediately evident, for coming slowly
around the bend was a huge grizzly bear. The sudden appearance of the
intruders into its domain startled the brute. Its upper lip curled, its
teeth gleamed white, and an angry growl sawed the air. Blackbird was
nearly frantic now. She quivered with excitement. The froth flew from
her champing mouth, and her steel-shod fore hoofs beat sledge hammer
blows upon the ground. With the greatest difficulty Grey managed to hold
her in check with the left hand, while with the right he unslung his
rifle. The bear was nearer now, coming steadily onward, still growling,
and causing Blackbird to back farther and farther down the hill. It was
not Grey's nature to retreat. He had never done so before the face of
man, and he was determined that the first time should not be from a
lumbering bear. The creature's insolence nettled him. It made him angry
to be checked when he was anxious to reach the river. If it was fight
the bear was looking for, it had sought the right spot. Quickly Grey
brought the rifle to his shoulder, took aim and fired. The ball struck
the bear a glancing blow upon the head. For an instant only the brute
paused, and then with a terrific roar hurled itself forward like an
avalanche. No longer could human hand control Blackbird's pent-up
terror. She reared on high, and swung about with such a sudden jerk that
Grey was hurled from the saddle and tossed like a ball among the
underbrush. Of his scratches and bruises he thought nothing, for sterner
work demanded his immediate attention. He had no time to regain his
feet, for the bear was coming, and every instant was precious. Kneeling
on the ground he seized the rifle, which had luckily fallen by his side,
threw out the empty shell and drove a loaded one into its place. And
none too soon, for the bear was almost upon him. Its rage was terrible
to behold. Its eyes glowed like living coals, and the hot hissing breath
poured from its gaping mouth like hell fire. With lightning rapidity
Grey thrust the muzzle of his rifle between those gleaming teeth and
fired. A deafening report ensued, and man and beast rolled over in one
confused heap. Grey fully expected to feel the slashing rip of
lance-like claws, and the sickening crunch of closing teeth. He
stretched out his hand for his sheath knife; he would fight to the last;
he would leave marks which would be remembered. But the keen blade was
not needed; the terror of the mountains had made its final charge, had
fought its last fight, and lay there upon the ground a quivering, inert
mass--dead. Slowly and with difficulty Grey extricated himself and
regained his feet. For a moment he stood and looked upon the fallen
brute.
"Close call that," he commented. "Nearly put me out of business, hey,
old chap? Good Lord, what claws and teeth! But for that lucky shot
they'd've had me torn to ribbons by this time. I'd like to show them to
the Major; he's a great eye for such things."
Blackbird was nowhere to be seen; the wilderness had swallowed her up.
Suddenly Grey realised his position. Night was shutting down, horse
gone, and the region alive with bears. He had settled the account of
one, but there were hundreds more, and they might appear at any moment.
He could not go back over the trail after the horse; that would be
folly. He must reach the river. Picking up his rifle he wiped away the
froth and moisture from the barrel and carefully reloaded it.
He was about to leave the place when he paused and looked at the bear
lying before him.
"Ah, old chap," he exclaimed. "You've made me lose my grub by
frightening Blackbird out of her senses. She's taken my small supply
with her, and what shall I do for supper? You look fat and well liking,
so I think a piece of your carcass will have to serve instead."
Drawing forth his sheath knife he deftly removed a portion of the skin
and cut off a fair sized piece of meat from a part he considered the
choicest. Next he sharpened a small stick, and thrust it through the
flesh. This done, he threw it over his shoulder, seized the rifle and
headed for the river.