"THE GRIZZLY"
It was old Kitsomax, the mother of the Chief, Spotted Calf, who first
brought the alarming news which spread terror through the camp.
Among all the inhabitants she was the one person who had showed any
kindness towards Dusty Star. His friendlessness and helplessness had
appealed to the old woman's heart. A son of hers had died when he was
just Dusty Star's age, and in the little lonely captive she fancied she
saw a resemblance to her own boy. Only dread of what the tribe might do,
if she were discovered, prevented her from contriving his escape. Yet
she bided her time. If circumstances should favour her, she knew what
she would do.
On the day before the ceremony she had gone down late in the evening to
bring water from the stream. As she was dipping her bucket, stooping
very low, she heard a twig snap. Looking up quickly she saw an enormous
grizzly come out between the alder bushes on the other side of the
stream. She was so terrified, she said, that, for the moment, she could
not rise, but kept crouching on the bank hoping the bear had not seen
her. But when she heard him growl softly and deeply, she knew that he
had scented her. Without daring to draw up the bucket, she had sprung to
her feet and fled.
That same night, Dusty Star was wakened by a loud breathing sound close
to his head, so near that it sounded as if it were in the lodge itself.
He was very much frightened, but lay absolutely still. Something seemed
to brush the outside of the elk-skin covering of the lodge, and then
moved heavily away. Almost directly afterwards, a great clamour arose
among the huskies. It continued some time before all was quiet. But as
the huskies were continually making disturbances in the night for very
little reason, the Indians did not come out.
Next day, unmistakable signs showed that a large bear had visited the
camp. Two huskies had been killed, and a third carried off into the
woods.
It was plain to Dusty Star that the Indians were very much alarmed. This
was partly accounted for (as he gathered from their talk) by the fact
that there existed a legend in the tribe of a great medicine grizzly
which haunted the lower slopes of the mountains, and which was supposed
to be the spirit of Catawa, a famous chief who had been murdered
treacherously many moons ago during one of the tribal feasts. The year
before, at the same time of the year, a grizzly had visited their camp
on the Potamac, and had destroyed one of the tepees. And hunters, coming
over the mountains had brought disquieting accounts of a huge grizzly,
of ferocious habits, whose range extended from the western slopes of
Mount Hunting-Wolf to the northern bank of Potamac. This, they firmly
believed, was the dreaded Catawa. And now, Catawa was come again.
Some said that it would be wise to have a special grizzly-bear dance in
the festival in order to make a strong medicine that should drive Catawa
away; but others were firmly of the opinion, that the bear dance would
only infuriate the grizzly, and that it would be wiser to postpone the
festival until he had left the neighbourhood.
They were still discussing the question, when Double Runner rushed
breathlessly into camp. He said he had gone up the mountains to cut
lodge-poles when he had come upon an enormous grizzly feeding among the
raspberry bushes on a hill to the northward of the camp. The bear had
seen him, and had immediately given chase, and it was only by putting
forth his utmost speed that he had been able to escape.
This alarming news settled the disputed matter of the festival; and it
was decided that it could not be held until the grizzly had either been
killed, or driven far away from the neighbourhood of the camp.
To do this; it would be necessary that all the able-bodied men, young
and old, should form themselves into a strong war-party, and go out to
attack the grizzly wherever he might be found.
This plan was immediately carried out, and in a very short time, the
camp was empty except for the squaws and children and a few of the very
oldest men. As usual, Dusty Star was left fastened surely by the
deer-skin thong.
The day was very warm, and so he sat just outside the tepee observing
the sleepy life of the camp as it went leisurely on through the long
passing of the drowsy afternoon. Kitsomax sat a few feet away, busily
softening a tanned buckskin, which she worked skilfully with her skinny
hands. Several times, Dusty Star noticed that her eyes were upon him
instead of the buckskin, and that then her gaze wandered uneasily round
the camp, as if to see whether any one were watching her. The air was
very still. Apart from the camp, nothing living could be seen, except a
pair of buzzards circling high up in the eastern blue.
Suddenly Kitsomax, after a swift glance all round, leant towards him,
speaking rapidly.
"They will hold the festival after Catawa is driven away. And then they
will kill you, because your wolf killed Little Owl; and because Double
Runner says you belong to the wolves. But I, Kitsomax, do not believe
you intended to harm us. If they had not followed you, your wolf would
not have attacked. If you do as I tell you, you may yet escape before
the festival begins. You must ..."
Here the old squaw broke off suddenly, and bent over her work. Turning
his head, Dusty Star saw that a woman had come out from a neighbouring
tepee, and was looking in their direction.
After that, Kitsomax did not say any more, and Dusty Star went on
staring into the forest, where the shadows looked so cool under the
trees. The words the squaw had said kept on running in his head. "They
will kill you, because your wolf killed Little Owl." The thing of which
the great fear had haunted him since his captivity was true then! The
thing Kiopo had done was to be avenged by his own death. He shuddered as
he thought of the terrible fate in store for him. He knew that Indian
vengeance could be more cruel than the wolves. He longed to ask Kitsomax
if she had heard what had happened to the wolf; but whenever he turned
to do so, it seemed to him that some one was looking their way.
And the thing she had told him was a terror which grew. And although he
looked straight into the forest, he saw it merely as a dense green mass.
What he saw was the terror--the thing that should happen when the
Indians returned.
But all at once the vacancy of his gaze vanished. From the shadow of the
trees, he saw a large form slowly detach itself. It made a few paces
towards the camp, and then turned back into the forest.
He looked round the camp. No one else seemed to have noticed. The squaws
continued their occupations just as before. Dusty Star kept his eyes
continually moving along the line of trees, always returning to the spot
where the thing had disappeared. And although he saw nothing more, he
was convinced he had not been mistaken. The shape had been that of a
bear.
A long time had passed when one of the squaws suddenly screamed. Looking
in the direction of the cry, Dusty Star saw an enormous grizzly walking
slowly towards the tepees.
Instantly the whole camp was in wild confusion. Squaws ran in every
direction, snatching up their babies, and screaming at the tops of their
voices. Several of the more courageous old men advanced towards the
grizzly, waving their arms and trying to frighten him back; but when,
growling fiercely, he broke into a run towards them, they turned and
joined the women in their flight. It was in vain that the huskies
circled round him in a snarling, furious ring. He broke the neck of one
which had rashly ventured within the range of his deadly fore paw, and
wounded another. As he charged the pack, it broke before his murderous
onset and fled yelling into the woods.
Dusty Star ran quickly into the tepee and began feverishly to try to
unfasten the thong which bound him, while the screaming of the women,
and the yelping of the huskies continued. Presently, a sharp, rending
noise told him that the grizzly had attacked either a tepee, or one of
the parfleches in it. The tearing noise continued for some time and then
ceased. After that there was silence in the camp, the inhabitants having
by this time taken refuge in the woods. And still the thong resisted his
utmost efforts to unfasten it. Then, just as he was about to peep out to
see what was happening, he heard something approaching.
Instantly he crawled under a buffalo robe, and lay there, shaking from
head to foot. Something entered the tepee. Dusty Star did not dare to
look. He felt the thong that bound him violently tugged: he heard, or
thought he heard, a muffled growl. The next moment, the robe was
snatched from his head, and he saw--not the grizzly--but old Kitsomax
with a hunting knife in her hand.
"Quick! Quick!" she cried. "I have cut the thong. He is coming! He is
coming!"
Dusty Star leaped from the couch. As he did so, Kitsomax gave a scream.
The entrance of the tepee was filled by a huge form. The little red eyes
of the grizzly were glaring at them in fury.
For a moment the bear seemed to hesitate. Then he turned towards
Kitsomax. Instantly Dusty Star stepped forward, and gave a short bark
like a coyote. The grizzly turned savagely in his direction. With a
marvelous quickness in one so old, Kitsomax darted out of the tepee.
In thus turning the bear's attention from the old squaw to himself he
was well aware that he had risked his own life. Yet he felt he could not
have done otherwise, since she had willingly taken the same risk in
coming to set him free, instead of escaping with the other squaws while
there was yet time.
Seeing itself balked of one prey, the bear now concentrated his rage
upon the other. He made a furious rush.
If Dusty Star had been a fraction of a second too late, the delay would
have cost him his life; but even as the furry Terror hurled itself upon
him, he made one of his swift wolf-leaps to the other side of a pile of
skins. The grizzly turned like a flash. It was amazing that so huge a
body could move with such terrible ease and quickness. But quick though
the bear was, the boy was quicker. He knew that death was hard upon him.
A false, or undecided movement, and nothing could save him from those
murderous claws. All the muscles of his lithe body were contracted in
preparation for the final rush for life. Before the grizzly could cut
him off, Dusty Star seemed not so much to run, as to _shoot_ himself out
from the lodge.
The big paw missed its mark by a hair's breath--no more. Only one of the
frightful hooked claws touched with its tip the spot where Dusty Star's
buckskin shirt bulged slightly from his back. It rent it as clean as the
slash of a tomahawk, but failed to reach the skin. Dusty Star felt the
slash, and bounded for his life. He could see Kitsomax's stooping form
already half-way towards the forest.
If he had made a straight run now, it was probable that the bear would
have caught him, owing to the extraordinary speed with which a bear can
move over the ground, but as Dusty Star took a zig-zag course all across
the camp, doubling right and left as he darted round the tepees, the
grizzly lost ground.
From the last tepee to the edge of the forest was less than a dozen
yards. Dusty Star took them at a wild run, hearing the snarling growl of
the grizzly as it came wheeling furiously round the last tepee. He swung
himself desperately into the nearest tree. With a roar of disappointed
rage, the grizzly flung himself against it, tearing savagely at the
bark, and stripping it into splinters. Then, clasping the trunk with his
mighty fore-arms, he hugged it with all his might, wrenching it this way
and that in an attempt to break it down.
Dusty Star, on his perch, felt the whole tree shiver beneath him. A tree
of smaller growth must have given way at last to the enormous strain,
whereas a sapling would have yielded like matchwood.
As Dusty Star was aware, a full-grown grizzly rarely climbs. Still, in
the present enraged condition of the brute's feelings, there was no
telling what he might not attempt to do. So, when he saw that the bear,
finding he could not break the tree down by main force, was beginning to
climb it, he was more alarmed than surprised. Yet even then, as he felt
the tree vibrate to the movement of the great body as it came slowly up,
he kept his presence of mind. He threw a quick look round him that took
in all the details at a glance. In an instant he knew what he must do.
When the bear was a third of the way up the trunk, Dusty Star climbed
out along a branch and dropped quickly to the ground. By the time the
grizzly had laboriously climbed down backwards, Dusty Star was out of
sight among the trees.
When the Indians returned that evening, they found the camp a total
wreck; for the bear, disappointed in his attempt to seize Dusty Star,
had turned back to vent his rage upon the tepees. Here, one was
completely torn down; there, another showed wide rents between its
lodge-poles. And where one had apparently escaped, it was found, when
entered, to have its contents torn and thrown about in all directions.
Of Dusty Star himself, they could not see a sign. And the only person
who could have thrown a light upon his disappearance, took the wise
course of holding her tongue. Even the thong which had bound him had
likewise disappeared. For when the terrified squaws had crept back one
by one to the ruined camp, Kitsomax had taken the precaution to bury it
under a bush.