III
A VERY NARROW SHAVE
One winter's day in San Francisco my friend Halley, an enthusiastic shotwho had killed bears in India, came to me and said, "Let's go south. I'mtired of towns. Let's go south and have some real tip-top shooting."
In the matter of sport, California in those days--thirty yearsago--differed widely from the California of to-day. Then, the sage brushof the foot-hills teemed with quail, and swans, geese, duck(canvas-back, mallard, teal, widgeon, and many other varieties)literally filled the lagoons and reed-beds, giving magnificent shootingas they flew in countless strings to and fro between the sea and thefresh water; whilst, farther inland, snipe were to be had in the swampsalmost "for the asking." On the plains were antelope, and in the hillsand in the Sierra Nevadas, deer and bears, both cinnamon and grizzly.Verily a sportsman's paradise!
The next day saw us on board the little _Arizona_, bound for San Pedro,a forty-hours' trip down the coast. We took with us only shot-guns,meaning to try for nothing but small game. At San Pedro, the port forLos Angeles (Puebla de los Angeles, the "Town of the Angels"), welanded, and after a few days' camping by some lagoons near the sea,where we shot more duck than could easily be disposed of, we made ourway to that little old Spanish settlement, where we hired a horse andbuggy to take us inland.
Our first stopping-place was at a sheep-ranche, about fifty miles fromLos Angeles, a very beautiful property, well grassed and watered, andconsisting chiefly of great plains through which flowed a crystal-clearriver, and surrounded on very side by the most picturesque of hills,1,000 to 1,500 feet in height.
The ranche was owned by a Scotsman, and his "weather-board" house wasnew and comfortable, but we found ourselves at the mercy of the mostconservative of Chinese cooks, whom no blandishments could induce togive us at our meals any of the duck or snipe we shot, but who stuckwith unwearying persistency to boiled pork and beans. And on boiled porkand beans he rang the changes, morning, noon, and night; that is to say,sometimes it was hot, and sometimes it was cold, but it was ever boiledpork and beans. At its best it is not a diet to dream about (though Ifound that a good deal of dreaming could be done _upon_ it), and as wefancied, after a few days, that any attraction which it might originallyhave possessed had quite faded and died, we resolved to push onelsewhere.
The following night we reached a little place at the foot of the highermountains called Temescal, a very diminutive place, consisting, indeed,of but one small house. The surroundings, however, were very beautiful,and the presence of a hot sulphur-spring, bubbling up in the scrub notone hundred yards from the house, and making a most inviting naturalbath, coupled with the favourable reports of game of all kinds to begot, induced us to stop. And life was very pleasant there in the crispdry air, for the quail shooting was good, the scenery and weatherperfect, everything fresh and green and newly washed by a two days'rain, the food well cooked, and, nightly, after our day's shooting, werolled into the sulphur-spring and luxuriated in the hot water.
But Halley's soul began to pine for higher things, for bigger game thanquail and duck. "Look here," he said to me one day, "this is all verywell, you know, but why shouldn't we go after the deer amongst thehills? We've got some cartridges loaded with buckshot. And, my word! we_might_ get a grizzly."
"All right," I said, "I'm on, as far as deer are concerned, but hangyour grizzlies. I'm not going to tackle _them_ with a shot-gun."
So it was arranged that next morning, before daylight, we should go,with a boy to guide us, up one of the numerous canons in the mountains,to a place where we were assured deer came down to drink.
It was a cold, clear, frosty morning when we started, the starsthrobbing and winking as they seem to do only during frost, and wetoiled, not particularly gaily, up the bed of a creek, stumbling in thedarkness and barking our shins over more boulders and big stones thanone would have believed existed in all creation. Just before dawn, whenthe grey light was beginning to show us more clearly where we weregoing, we saw in the sand of the creek fresh tracks of a large bear, thewater only then beginning to ooze into the prints left by his greatfeet, and I can hardly say that I gazed on them with the amount ofenthusiasm that Halley professed to feel.
But bear was not in our contract, and we hurried on another half-mile orso, for already we were late if we meant to get the deer as they came todrink; and presently, on coming to a likely spot, where the canonforked, Halley said, "This looks good enough. I'll stop here and sendthe boy back; you can go up the fork about half a mile and try there."
And on I went, at last squatting down to wait behind a clump ofmanzanita scrub, close to a small pool where the creek widened.
It was as gloomy and impressive a spot as one could find anywhere out ofa picture by Dore. The sombre pines crowded in on the little stream,elbowing and whispering, leaving overhead but a gap of clear sky; oneither hand the rugged sides of the canon sloped steeply up amongst thetimber and thick undergrowth, and never the note of a bird broke asilence which seemed only to be emphasised by the faint sough of thewind in the tree tops. Minute dragged into minute, yet no deer camestealing down to drink, and rapidly the stillness and heart-chillinggloom were getting on my nerves; when, far up the steep side of thecanon opposite to me there came a faint sound, and a small stonetrickled hurriedly down into the water.
"At last!" I thought. "At last!" And with a thumping heart and eager eyeI crouched forward, ready to fire, yet feeling somewhat of a sneak and acoward at the thought that the poor beast had no chance of escape. Lowerand nearer came the sound of the something still to me invisible, butthe sound, slight though it was, gave, somehow, the impression of bulk,and the strange, subdued, half-grunting snuffle was puzzling to senseson the alert for deer. Lower and nearer, and then--out into the open bythe shallow water he strolled--no deer, but a great grizzly.
My first instinct was to fire and "chance it," but then in steppeddiscretion (funk, if you will), and I remembered that at fifteen ortwenty yards buckshot would serve no end but to wound and rouse to furysuch an animal as a grizzly, who, perhaps of all wild beasts, is themost tenacious of life; and I remembered, too, tales told byCalifornians of death, or ghastly wounds, inflicted by grizzlies.
My finger left the trigger, and I sat down--discreetly, and with nounnecessary noise. He was not in a hurry, but rooted about sedatelyamongst the undergrowth, now and again throwing up his muzzle andsniffing the air in a way that made me not unthankful that the faintbreeze blew from him to me, and not in the contrary direction.
In due time--an age it seemed--after a false start or two, he went offup stream, and I, wisely concluding that this particular spot was, forthe present, an unlikely one for deer, followed his example, andrejoined Halley, who was patiently waiting where we had parted.
"I've just seen a grizzly, Halley," I said.
"_Have_ you?" he almost yelled in his excitement. "Come on! We'll gethim."
"I don't think I want any more of him," said I, with becoming modesty."_I'm_ going to see if I can't stalk a deer amongst the hills. They'remore in my line, I think."
Halley looked at me--pity, a rather galling pity, in his eye--and,turning, went off alone after the bear, muttering to himself, whilst Ikept on my course downstream, over the boulders, certain in my own mindthat no more would be seen of that bear, and keeping a sharp look-out onthe surrounding country in case any deer should show themselves.
I had gone barely half a mile when, on the spur of a hill, a long wayoff, I spotted a couple of deer browsing on the short grass, and I wason the point of starting what would have been a long and difficult, butvery pretty, stalk when I heard a noise behind me.
Looking back, I saw Halley flying from boulder to boulder, travellingas if to "make time" were the one and only object of his life--runningafter a fashion that a man does but seldom.
I waited till he was close to me, till his wild eyes and gasping mouthbred in me some of his panic, and then, after a hurried glance up thecreek, I, too, turned and fled for my life.
/>
For there, lumbering and rolling heavily along, came the bear, gainingat every stride, though evidently sorely hurt in one shoulder. But myflight ended almost as it began, for a boulder, more rugged than itsfellows, caught my toe and sent me sprawling, gun and cartridge-bag andself in an evil downfall.
I picked myself up and grabbed for my gun, and, even as I got to myfeet, the racing Halley tripped and rolled over like a shot rabbit. Itwas too late for flight now, and I jumped for the nearest big boulder,scrambling up and facing round just in time to see the bear, fury in hiseyes, raise his huge bulk and close with Halley, who was struggling tohis feet. Before I could fire down came the great paw, and poor Halleycollapsed, his head, mercifully, untouched, but the bone of the upperarm showing through the torn cloth and streaming blood.
I fired ere the brute could damage him further, fired my second barrelalmost with the first, but with no apparent result except to rouse theanimal to yet greater fury, and he turned, wild with rage, and came atme. A miserably insignificant pebble my boulder seemed then, and Iremember vaguely and hopelessly wondering why I hadn't climbed atree. But there was small time for speculation, as I hurriedly, and withhands that seemed to be "all thumbs," tried to slip in a couple of freshcartridges.
As is generally the case when one is in a tight place, one of the oldcases jammed and would not come out--they had been refilled, and had,besides, been wet a few days before, and my hands were clumsy in myhaste--and so, finally, I had to snap up the breech on but one freshcartridge, throw up the gun, and fire, as the bear was within ten feetof me.
I fired, more by good luck, I think, than anything else, down his great,red, gaping mouth, and jumped for life as he crashed on to the rockwhere I had stood, crashed and lay, furiously struggling, the bloodpouring from his mouth and throat, for the buckshot, at quarters soclose, had inflicted a wound ten times more severe than would have beencaused by a bullet.
I FIRED DOWN HIS GREAT, RED, GAPING MOUTH AND JUMPED FORLIFE.]
It was quite evident that the bear was done, but, for the sake ofsafety--it does not do to leave anything to chance with such ananimal--I put two more shots into his head, and he ceased to struggle, agreat shudder passed over his enormous bulk, the muscles relaxed, and helay dead.
Then I hurried to where Halley lay. Poor chap! He was far spent, andquite unconscious, nor was I doctor enough to know whether his woundswere likely to be fatal, and my very ignorance made them seem the moreterrible. I tore my shirt into bandages, and did what I could for him,succeeding after a time in stopping the worst of the bleeding; but Icould see very plainly that the left shoulder was terribly shattered,and I thought, with a groan, of the fifty weary miles that one must sendfor a doctor.
Presently he began to come to, and I got him to swallow a little brandyfrom his flask, which revived him, and before long, after putting mycoat beneath his head, I left him and started for help.
It was a nightmare, that run. Remorse tore me for having let him startafter the bear alone, and never could I get from my mind the horribledread that the slipping of one of my amateur bandages might re-start thebleeding, and that I should return to find only the lifeless body of myfriend; ever the fear was present that in the terribly rough bed of thecreek I might sprain my ankle, and so fail to bring help ere it was toolate. At times, too, my overstrung nerves were jarred by some suddensound in the undergrowth, or the stump of a tree on a hillside wouldstartle me by so exact a likeness to a bear, sitting up watching me, asto suggest to my mind the probability of another bear finding andmauling Halley whilst he lay helpless and alone.
But if my nerves were shaken, my muscles and wind were in good order,and not even the most morbid self-consciousness could find fault withthe time spent on the journey. Luck favoured me, too, to this extent,that almost as I got on to the road, or, rather, track, about a milefrom the inn, I met, driving a buggy, and bound for Los Angeles, a manwhose acquaintance we had made a few days before, and who, with muchlurid language, had warned us against going after bear.
His remarks now were more forcible than soothing or complimentary when Iexplained the matter to him during the drive to the inn, where hedropped me, himself going on for the doctor as fast as two horses couldtravel.
It did not take us long to improvise a stretcher, and, with the willinghelp of two men and of the landlady, in about three hours we had Halleyin his room. But a hideous walk it was down the canon, every step wemade wringing a groan from the poor fellow except when he fainted frompain.
The doctor did not arrive till the following morning, by which time thewounds were in a dreadful condition, and it was touch and go for life,while the doctor at first had no hope of saving the arm. But youth, andtime, and a strong constitution pulled him through, and in a couple ofweeks he was strong enough to describe to me how he had fallen in withthe bear.
He had gone, it seemed, not to where I had seen the animal, but up abranch canon. At no great distance up he met the beast, making its wayleisurely across the creek, and, in his excitement, he fired bothbarrels into the bear's shoulder; and then the same thing happened thathad happened to me--those refilled cartridges had jammed, and there wasnothing for it but to run for his life. Luckily he had badly lamed theanimal, or his chance of escape would have been _nil_, and, as it was,in another two hundred yards the bear would have been into him.
Some days after the accident, the first day that I could leave Halley'sbedside, I went out to see if it was possible to get the skin of thebear, but I found it badly torn, maybe by coyotes, and all that could begot as trophies were his claws.
There they are now, hanging over the pipe-rack by the fireplace in mysnuggery in dear old England.