“OLD DAVY.”
It was a long time before the boys ceased to wonder at the singular
story they had just heard. They discussed it while they were riding
toward the mountains; but after they had all expressed an opinion,
they were as much in the dark as they had been before. They could not
understand it at all. Dick Thomas declared that old Bob must have
fallen asleep while he was watching the rancho, and that the bridge of
clouds, the streaks of fire, and the boat that was ferried across the
creek without hands, were things which he had seen only in his dreams.
Such incidents, he said, might have happened in feudal times, and in
some old castle which had been built with secret doors and dungeons
and passage-ways; but no one need try to make him believe that they
could take place at that late day, in a civilized country, and in a
house that had been erected simply for a dwelling. It was ridiculous.
Johnny said that was his opinion, too; but Frank and Archie, who knew
that the old trapper was not the man to fall asleep while watching for
an enemy, were confident that something unusual and exciting had been
going on at Don Carlos’ rancho. Bob was a very ignorant man, and of
course he was superstitious. He believed in signs and omens, and any
thing he could not account for was sure to frighten him. This may have
led him to exaggerate the occurrences at the rancho, but, for all
that, they knew that he had been a witness to some strange scenes.
“Old Bob didn’t make up that story,” said Archie, decidedly, “and he
never dreamed it, either. He saw something, and I’ll know what it was
before I am two days older. It’s my opinion that that old Spaniard has
got my horse: and if he has, he must give him up, or there’ll be a
bigger fuss in this settlement than there was when the Indians
attacked it years ago.”
But all thoughts of Don Carlos and his rancho, and the mysterious
things that had happened there, were soon driven out of their minds;
for, by this time, they had reached the spring near which Frank,
Archie, and Johnny had been captured by Pierre and his band, and there
they found the trap of which they were in search. It was built of
heavy logs, with a movable top, like the lid of a box, to which, when
the trap was set, a “trigger” was adjusted, in such a manner that,
when the bait was removed, the top would fall down, confining the bear
in the pen. The boys thought that Old Davy must have possessed immense
power of muscle to work his way out of that trap. He had left the
marks of his great claws and teeth on the logs, and there were the
prints of his feet where he had passed along the muddy bank of the
spring into the woods.
Frank and his companions sat in their saddles looking at the trap,
while the dogs, with all the bristles on their backs sticking straight
up, ran about in a state of intense excitement. The boys were all
thinking about the same thing: and that was, if they dared to send on
the dogs, and could find and shoot Old Davy, what a feather it would
be in their caps! That would be doing something that Dick Lewis and
Bob Kelly and all the best hunters in the settlement had tried in vain
to accomplish. There was one of their number who was reckless enough
to believe that they could do it, and that was Archie Winters.
“Hi! hi!” he yelled, so suddenly that he startled all his companions.
“Look to him, dogs. Hunt him up!”
No sooner were the words spoken, than the dogs uttered a simultaneous
yelp, and disappeared in the bushes. There were five of them in the
pack--Marmion, and four splendid hounds, which belonged to Dick. Their
young masters had often declared that they should never follow Old
Davy’s trail, for he was a famous hand to destroy dogs, and during his
numerous fights, he had killed nearly all the finest animals of this
species in the settlement. A few months before, every farmer in that
section of the country had pointed with pride to his pack of fifteen
or twenty hounds, to which he gave as much care and attention as he
bestowed upon his horses; but Old Davy had thinned them all out, and
now some of the settlers had only two or three remaining. Frank and
Dick had, thus far, kept their favorites at a safe distance from the
grizzly, but Archie had sent them right into his mouth. When the dogs
came up with him, they would of course attack him, and that would be
the last of them. A bear that could demolish twenty fierce hounds in a
single fight, would not wink over five antagonists. However, it was
too late to recall them. They were already out of sight, and yelping
fierce and loud as they swept up the mountain in pursuit of the
grizzly.
“I’ve seen my hounds for the last time,” said Dick.
“And I’ll never put eyes on Marmion again,” chimed in Frank. “What
made you send them on, Archie?”
“Now look here, fellows,” replied the latter. “We have said a hundred
times that we wanted to see Old Davy, and I’d like to know if we’ll
ever have a better chance than we’ve got now. Let’s follow the dogs,
and when they bring us within sight of the bear, we’ll call them off.
We can look at him without having a fight with him, can’t we?”
The others were by no means sure of that. Those who knew Old Davy best
said that he was a quarrelsome fellow, and that he never hesitated to
assault anybody who invaded his dominions. A black bear, unless driven
desperate by hunger, will generally take to his heels at the sight of
a human being; but Old Davy was a grizzly, and one of the most
ferocious of his species. But, although the boys were well aware of
all these facts, they did not hesitate to follow Archie, who, without
waiting to hear what his companions had to say to his proposition, put
spurs to his horse, and dashed into the bushes. They unslung their
guns as they went (although they all declared that they had not the
slightest intention of shooting at the bear if they came up with him),
and, guided by the hoarse baying of the hounds in front, galloped
through the trees, and up the side of the mountain, like a squad of
cavalry on the charge.
The higher they went the more difficult the ascent became. The bushes
were thick, fallen logs incumbered the ground, and the trees and
saplings grew so closely together that their horses could scarcely
force their way through them. It was a splendid hiding-place for a
bear, and Frank could not help asking himself how many chances there
were in a hundred that all of them would succeed in making their
escape, if Old Davy should suddenly pounce down upon them.
After a tedious, fatiguing ride of half an hour, during which time the
music of the hounds continued to ring out louder and clearer, as the
trail grew warmer, they reached the top of a spur of the mountain, and
were on the point of descending into the ravine on the opposite side,
when Dick Thomas, who was leading the way, suddenly uttered an
exclamation, and stopped his horse.
“What is it?” asked his companions in a breath.
“We’d better be getting away from here, fellows,” replied Dick, so
excited that he could scarcely speak plainly. “There’s the old rascal
himself.”
“Who? Where? You don’t mean Old Davy!”
The boys had talked bravely enough about meeting this dreaded
monster; but now that they were close upon him, their courage began to
ooze out at the ends of their fingers, and the faces they turned
toward Dick were a good deal paler than usual.
“Yes, I do mean Old Davy. Don’t you see him sitting there at the foot
of that mammoth oak?”
The boys looked through the trees in the direction Dick pointed, and,
sure enough, there was the grizzly, scarcely more than a hundred yards
distant. There could be no mistake as to his identity, for there was
the bald spot on his forehead as plain as daylight. They had got
themselves into a nice scrape.
That was the first thought that passed through Frank’s mind, and the
next was that he would never again have a word to say about Marmion’s
courage. He had never been more astonished in his life, than he was
when he witnessed the actions of his favorite. The hero of a score of
hard-fought battles, the dog that had been at the killing of half a
dozen bears, and never once hesitated to attack the largest of
them--Marmion the infallible, upon discovering Old Davy, uttered one
howl of terror, and faced about and fled for dear life. The hounds
followed close at his heels, and such a scrambling to get out of
harm’s way Frank had never seen before. They were out of sight in an
instant.
The boys had prepared themselves to see something frightful when they
came within sight of Old Davy, and they were not disappointed. He was
even larger and uglier than their imaginations had pictured him. He
sat on his haunches at the root of a huge oak, swinging his head
slowly, from side to side, and apparently unconscious of the presence
of the young hunters.
“Well, fellows,” said Frank, who was the coolest one in the party,
“we’ve found the old villain, and now what are we going to do with
him?”
“Let’s shoot at him and run,” suggested Archie.
“If the ground was clear, and I had my own horse, I would agree to
that,” replied Frank. “But don’t you know that this mountain behind us
is almost impassable? What would happen to us if we should fail to
kill or disable him, and our horses should become entangled in the
bushes?”
“Well, we must do something very soon,” said Johnny, “for the old
fellow isn’t going to sit there much longer. He is getting uneasy.”
Frank raised himself in his stirrups and took a survey of the ground
before him, like a general who was about to lead his forces into
action. But he had no intention of provoking a fight with their enemy.
His only desire was to bring himself and companions safely out of the
dangerous predicament in which they had thoughtlessly placed
themselves. He was certain that when they began to retreat, the
grizzly would assume the offensive; and in a race through those thick
bushes, he would have a decided advantage, and might succeed in
overtaking some of them.
“There is only one thing we can do,” said he, “and that is to get down
to the bottom of the ravine.”
“Why, we’ll have to go right past Old Davy to get there,” said Archie.
“We can’t help that. We must reach clear ground, where we will have a
fair chance for our lives, if he takes it into his head to attack us.
Move in single file, boys, keep close together, and if Old Davy shows
fight, we’ll give him a volley, and take to our heels.”
“That’s the way to do it,” said Dick, approvingly. “You give the
commands, Frank, and then every thing will be done in order.”
The boys were, by this time, recovering from the nervousness that had
been occasioned by the first sight of the grizzly; and, as their
courage returned, there was more than one among them who secretly
determined that he would not leave the field, until he had had at
least one fair shot at the bear. They had swift horses under them,
trusty weapons in their hands, and they knew that if Old Davy would
keep quiet until they were well out of the bushes into clear ground,
there was nothing to be afraid of.
Frank turned his horse and rode slowly down the mountain toward the
bottom of the ravine, his companions following after in single file.
They carried their rifles across their saddles in front of them,
cocked and ready for instant use, and each boy kept his eyes fastened
upon the grizzly. Old Davy watched them closely, too; and when he saw
them moving about among the bushes, he raised his head and uttered an
angry growl. That growl had a demoralizing effect upon the young
hunters, for their line of battle was broken in an instant, and
Frank’s horse made one or two frantic leaps down the mountain, almost
unseating his rider. The general consternation was greatly increased
when Johnny called out that the bear was coming.
“Take it easy, boys!” shouted Frank, with difficulty restraining his
frightened horse. “There’s time enough. Wait till he comes out of the
bushes, and fire at that bald spot on his forehead. Be sure of your
aim, now.”
It required no little nerve for the young hunters to sit there in
their saddles and await the onslaught of that enraged grizzly. They
could not see him now, but they heard his angry growls, and saw the
bushes shake and bend as he charged toward them. Presently his
enormous head and shoulders emerged from a thicket scarcely more than
twenty-five yards distant, and Frank gave the word.
“Ready! Aim! Fire!” he shouted.
Four shining rifle-barrels arose in line, four sights covered the
bear’s head, four fingers pressed the trigger at the same instant, a
roar that awoke the echoes far and near rang through the mountains,
and before the smoke cleared away, four frightened horses had dashed
past Old Davy, and were carrying their riders down the ravine with the
speed of the wind. The boys knew that their hands trembled, but they
were all good marksmen, and they were sure that at least one of the
four bullets that had been fired at the grizzly’s head, had found a
lodgment in some vital part; but what was their amazement, when they
reached the bottom of the ravine, and turned in their saddles and
looked back, to see Old Davy still on his feet, and coming down the
mountain in hot pursuit, he did not appear to have been in the least
injured by the storm of bullets they had rained upon him.