TACKLING "OLD EPHRAIM"
"Old Ephraim is out to investigate," declared Havens, excitedly.
"Throw down everything but your guns. Take my advice, and shin up a
tree--every blessed one of you."
"But," protested Bob, "we----"
Jim waved his hand impatiently.
"The worst animal in the mountains to tackle," he said, earnestly.
"Better do what I say. Quick! The old brute's coming this way."
The crackling of twigs and crashing among the underbrush indicated that
the bear was steadily advancing.
The hunters' nerves began to tingle at the prospect of meeting such a
formidable antagonist, but a certain pride prevented them from adopting
the wisest course.
Old Ephraim evidently felt that everything was not as it should be,
and seemed determined to be fully satisfied before returning to his
fishing.
While the four stood irresolute, the underbrush parted, and a broad
head with a rather pointed snout came into view. A pair of small eyes
gazed inquiringly around, and their owner, taking in the young nimrods,
uttered a low growl. He seemed to be indignant at the invasion of his
domain. Such a proceeding must be discouraged.
With a roar, he lumbered forward, and the Ramblers, feeling that closer
acquaintanceship was not to be desired, scattered.
All but Jim Havens were startled and disconcerted at the size of the
animal, and began to regret that they were not viewing the scene nicely
perched on some branch out of reach of his terrible claws.
In the meantime, the grizzly singled out Bob Somers for immediate
vengeance. The captain felt that it was too late to follow Havens'
advice. He steadied his nerves and awaited a favorable moment.
"Shoot straight!" yelled Havens.
Four rifles were ready, though they may have wavered a little.
One of them presently spoke; a sharp report reverberated; a wreath of
bluish smoke curled lazily upward, and a terrifying roar rang out.
Bob's shot had only checked the animal for an instant. It rose on its
hind legs, then dropped upon all fours again, and, maddened beyond
measure, redoubled its speed.
"Run for your life, Bob," shouted Havens. "We'll get him."
Then a wild chase began.
Afraid of hitting their companion, the others refrained from firing,
while the captain tore around the trees with the huge animal in hot
pursuit.
The three boys, with shouts and yells of encouragement, which they
hoped might also divert the bear's attention, followed. It seemed to
the frightened group that the captain was certain to be overtaken.
But, with a desperate effort, Bob suddenly swerved to one side, and by
the time the clumsy brute could turn he had gained several feet.
"Keep it up, Bob!" shouted Dave Brandon, encouragingly.
The stout boy was puffing and blowing, but despite his handicap in
weight kept well ahead of the others.
"Hi, hi! Christopher!"
"Great Cæsar!"
"My eye!"
Bob had reached the bank, and the grizzly was again almost within
reach. A quick glance over his shoulder told him that a turn to either
the right or left might be disastrous. Then, without hesitation, he
threw aside his gun and plunged into the stream.
The bear, as if puzzled by this strange proceeding, stood for a moment
gazing after the swimmer. But he did not mean to be cheated in such a
fashion as that. With another hoarse growl, his ponderous body sent the
water splashing.
Two shots rang out almost simultaneously.
"You missed him," called out Havens, his eyes shining with excitement.
"Come ahead--we've got him!"
At full speed, he led the way toward the fallen tree. But the remnants
of the grizzly's feast had made the trunk very slippery. Jim Havens'
right foot began to slide--he gave an exclamation--then the left gave
way.
The rifle dropped from his grasp; he flung his arms wildly over his
head, and, with a lusty yell of dismay, plunged forward and landed in
the water with a tremendous splash.
When, coughing and spluttering, he arose to the surface, it was about
ten feet further down-stream.
"Wow--I--I----"
But a sharp report drowned the rest of his sentence.
Dave Brandon had succeeded in crossing the natural bridge just as the
dripping bear clambered out on the opposite side. He sank to one knee,
and fired.
The grizzly rose on its hind legs, its mouth opened, showing an array
of formidable teeth; then, with a last defiant snarl, Old Ephraim fell
heavily over, gave several convulsive movements and finally lay limp
and lifeless.
"Hurrah!" yelled Bob Somers.
He stood on the bank, with his wet clothes clinging tightly to him and
his hair matted fantastically to his forehead.
"Bully boy!" yelled Havens, who had scrambled ashore; "and I had an
idea you couldn't shoot."
"Oh, no, he can't. Dave is the champion nimrod of the crowd," laughed
Dick Travers. "Christopher--some excitement, eh?" Then he burst out
laughing. "You're not hurt, are you, Havens?" he asked. "Honest, you
were the funniest thing I ever saw when you went in."
"The whole thing was a comedy of errors," smiled Bob.
"It's lucky I didn't fall on a rock," said Havens, with a very faint
grin. "That old fish-eating monster caused us a peck of trouble. And my
rifle--we'll have to dig that up," he added, ruefully. "Somers, you and
I are pretty sights."
The two dry nimrods and the two wet were soon examining the carcass. It
was a monster, over eight feet long, and probably weighing about nine
hundred pounds.
The task of skinning Old Ephraim was not an easy one, but Havens'
experience counted. When the work was finally accomplished, all
realized that it would be impossible to reach the mountain top that
night.
"What's the odds?" remarked Bob. "We're not in any hurry."
Four o'clock found the boys weary, footsore, and looking for a camp.
They were a long way up the mountain.
During the march, Dick Travers, who carried a shotgun, brought down a
brace of quail.
When they came to a stop, it was at a point where a barren, rocky area
surrounded them. Evidently at some remote period a fearful convulsion
of nature had split and rent the great rocks and piled others together
in the utmost confusion.
Looming against the sky, high above, was a rounded summit of the purest
white.
Dave Brandon and Dick Travers rested by the wayside, while Bob Somers
and Jim went off on a skirmishing expedition toward a belt of timber.
In a few moments, shouts were heard.
"Think there's anything up?" asked Dick, in an anxious voice.
"No! Bob doesn't yell as if a bear was after him," laughed Dave. "Here
they come. What's that he says?"
"Found a cave, and a whopper, too."
"H'm--only hope it has a nice smooth floor, a soda fountain, and----"
"Hello, boys, we've struck a dandy place for a camp," called Bob; he
arrived, panting and gleeful. "Finest cave you ever saw, Chubby," he
declared.
"A crackerjack," added Havens. "Let's tote the stuff over, and get our
grub."
In a few minutes, the boys reached the entrance, which was partially
concealed by a fringe of bushes.
"Did you fellows have the nerve to go in there?" asked Dick.
"Not until we made sure that it was safe," responded Jim.
Dick eagerly pushed aside the bushes, and entered. For a moment
everything was black, and he lingered on the threshold, fearing that
some pitfall might be close at hand. Then, as he stepped forward, his
eyes gradually accustomed themselves to the dim light which filtered in
through the entrance.
But this disappeared almost entirely, as Dave's stout form squeezed
through. Dick lighted a match.
When the tiny flame flared up, he uttered an exclamation of
astonishment. It seemed as if he had been transported into some fairy
chamber of wondrous beauty.