CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.
DICK'S FIRST FIGHT WITH A GRIZZLY--ADVENTURE WITH A DEER--A SURPRISE.
There is no animal in all the land so terrible and dangerous as thegrizzly bear. Not only is he the largest of the species in America, buthe is the fiercest, the strongest, and the most tenacious of life, factswhich are so well understood that few of the western hunters like tomeet him single-handed, unless they happen to be first-rate shots; andthe Indians deem the encounter so dangerous, that to wear a collarcomposed of the claws of a grizzly bear of his own killing, is countedone of the highest honours to which a young warrior can attain.
The grizzly bear resembles the brown bear of Europe, but it is larger,and the hair is long, the points being of a paler shade. About the headthere is a considerable mixture of grey hair, giving it the "grizzly"appearance, from which it derives its name. The claws are dirty white,arched, and very long, and so strong that when the animal strikes withits paw they cut like a chisel. These claws are not embedded in thepaw, as is the case with the cat, but always project far beyond thehair, thus giving to the foot a very ungainly appearance; they are notsufficiently curved to enable the grizzly bear to climb trees, like theblack and brown bears, and this inability on their part is often theonly hope of the pursued hunter, who, if he succeeds in ascending atree, is safe, for the time at least, from the bear's assaults; but"Caleb" is a patient creature, and will often wait at the foot of thetree for many hours for his victim.
The average length of his body is about nine feet, but he sometimesattains to a still larger growth. Caleb is more carnivorous in hishabits than other bears; but, like them, he does not object to indulgeoccasionally in vegetable diet, being partial to the bird-cherry, thechoke-berry, and various shrubs. He has a sweet tooth, too, and revelsin honey--when he can get it.
The instant the grizzly bear beheld Dick Varley standing in his path, herose on his hind-legs, and made a loud hissing noise, like a manbreathing quick, but much harsher. To this Crusoe replied by a deepgrowl, and showing the utmost extent of his teeth, gums and all; andDick cocked both barrels of his rifle.
To say that Dick Varley felt no fear would be simply to make him outthat sort of hero which does not exist in nature, namely a _perfect_hero. He _did_ feel a sensation as if his bowels had suddenly meltedinto water! Let not our reader think the worse of Dick for this. Thereis not a man living who, having met with a huge grizzly bear for thefirst time in his life, in a wild, solitary place, all alone, has notexperienced some such sensation. There was no cowardice in thisfeeling. Fear is not cowardice. Acting in a wrong and contemptiblemanner because of our fear, is cowardice.
It is said that Wellington or Napoleon, we forget which, once stoodwatching the muster of the men who were to form the forlorn hope instorming a citadel. There were many brave, strong, stalwart men there,in the prime of life, and flushed with the blood of high health andcourage. There were also there a few stern-browed men of riper years,who stood perfectly silent, with lips compressed, and as pale as death."Yonder veterans," said the general, pointing to these soldiers, "aremen whose courage I can depend on; they _know_ what they are going to,the others _don't_!" Yes, these young soldiers _very probably_ werebrave; the others _certainly_ were.
Dick Varley stood for a few seconds as if thunderstruck, while the bearstood hissing at him. Then the liquefaction of his interior ceased, andhe felt a glow of fire gush through his veins. Now, Dick knew wellenough that to fly from a grizzly bear was the sure and certain way ofbeing torn to pieces, as when taken thus by surprise they almostinvariably follow a retreating enemy. He also knew that if he stoodwhere he was, perfectly still, the bear would, get uncomfortable underhis stare, and would retreat from him. But he neither intended to runaway himself nor to allow the bear to do so; he intended to kill it, sohe raised his rifle quickly, "drew a bead," as the hunters express it,on the bear's heart, and fired.
It immediately dropped on its fore-legs and rushed at him.
"Back, Crusoe, out of the way, pup," shouted Dick, as his favourite wasabout to spring forward.
The dog retired, and Dick leaped behind a tree. As the bear passed hegave it the contents of the second barrel behind the shoulder, whichbrought it down, but in another moment it rose and again rushed at him.Dick had no time to load, neither had he time to spring up the thicktree beside which he stood, and the rocky nature of the ground out ofwhich it grew rendered it impossible to dodge round it. His onlyresource was flight; but where was he to fly to? If he ran along theopen track, the bear would overtake him in a few seconds; on the rightwas a sheer precipice, a hundred feet high; on the left was animpenetrable thicket. In despair he thought for an instant of clubbinghis rifle and meeting the monster in close conflict; but the utterhopelessness of such an effort was too apparent to be entertained for amoment. He glanced up at the overhanging cliffs. There were one or tworents and projections close above him. In the twinkling of an eye hesprang up and grasped a ledge of about an inch broad, ten or twelve feetup, to which he clung while he glanced upward. Another projection waswithin reach,--he gained it, and in a few seconds he stood upon a ledgeabout twenty feet up the cliff, where he had just room to plant his feetfirmly.
Without waiting to look behind he seized his powder-horn and loaded onebarrel of his rifle; and well was it for him that his early training hadfitted him to do this with rapidity, for the bear dashed up theprecipice after him at once. The first time it missed its hold, andfell back with a savage growl, but, on the second attempt, it sunk itslong claws into the fissures between the rocks, and ascended steadilytill within a foot of the place where Dick stood.
At this moment Crusoe's obedience gave way before a sense of Dick'sdanger. Uttering one of his lion-like roars, he rushed up the precipicewith such violence that, although naturally unable to climb, he reachedand seized the bear's flank, despite his master's stern order to "keepback," and in a moment the two rolled down the face of the rocktogether, just as Dick completed loading.
Knowing that one stroke of the bear's paw would be certain death to hispoor dog, Dick leaped from his perch, and, with one bound reached theground at the same moment with the struggling animals, and close besidethem, and, before they had ceased rolling, he placed the muzzle of hisrifle into the bear's ear, and blew out its brains.
Crusoe, strange to say, escaped with only one scratch on the side. Itwas a deep one, but not dangerous, and gave him but little pain at thetime, although it caused him many a smart for some weeks after.
Thus happily ended Dick's first encounter with a grizzly bear; andalthough, in the course of his wild life he shot many specimens of"Caleb," he used to say that "he an' pup were never so near goin' underas on the day he dropped _that_ bar!"
Having refreshed himself with a long draught from a neighbouringrivulet, and washed Crusoe's wound, Dick skinned the bear on the spot.
"We chawed him up that time, didn't we, pup?" said Dick, with a smile ofsatisfaction, as he surveyed his prize.
Crusoe looked up and assented to this.
"Gave us a hard tussle, though; very nigh sent us both under, didn't he,pup!"
Crusoe agreed entirely, and, as if the remark reminded him of honourablescars, he licked his wound.
"Ah, pup!" cried Dick, sympathetically, "does it hurt ye, eh, poor dog?"
Hurt him! such a question! No, he should think not; better ask if thatleap from the precipice hurt yourself.
So Crusoe might have said, but he didn't; he took no notice of theremark whatever.
"We'll cut him up now, pup," continued Dick. "The skin 'll make asplendid bed for you an me o' nights, and a saddle for Charlie."
Dick cut out all the claws of the bear by the roots, and spent theremainder of that night in cleaning them and stringing them on a stripof leather to form a necklace. Independently of the value of theseenormous claws (the largest as long as a man's middle finger) as anevidence of prowess, they formed a remarkably graceful collar, whichDick wore round his neck
ever after with as much pride as if he had beena Pawnee warrior.
When it was finished he held it out at arm's length, and said, "Crusoe,my pup, ain't ye proud of it? I'll tell ye what it is, pup, the nexttime you an' I floor Caleb, I'll put the claws round _your_ neck, an'make ye wear 'em ever arter, so I will."
The dog did not seem quite to appreciate this piece of prospective goodfortune. Vanity had no place in his honest breast, and, sooth to say,it had not a large place in that of his master either, as we may wellgrant when we consider that this first display of it was on the occasionof his hunter's soul having at last realised its brightest day-dream.
Dick's dangers and triumphs seemed to accumulate on him rather thicklyat this place, for on the very next day he had a narrow escape of beingkilled by a deer. The way of it was this.
Having run short of meat, and not being particularly fond of grizzlybear steak, he shouldered his rifle and sallied forth in quest of game,accompanied by Crusoe, whose frequent glances towards his wounded sideshowed that, whatever may have been the case the day before, it "hurt"him now.
They had not gone far when they came on the track of a deer in the snow,and followed it up till they spied a magnificent buck about threehundred yards off, standing in a level patch of ground which waseverywhere surrounded either by rocks or thicket. It was a long shot;but as the nature of the ground rendered it impossible for Dick to getnearer without being seen, he fired, and wounded the buck so badly thathe came up with it in a few minutes. The snow had drifted in the placewhere it stood bolt upright, ready for a spring, so Dick went round alittle way, Crusoe following, till he was in a proper position to fireagain. Just as he pulled the trigger, Crusoe gave a howl behind him,and disturbed his aim, so that he feared he had missed; but the deerfell, and he hurried towards it. On coming up, however, the buck sprangto its legs, rushed at him with its hair bristling, knocked him down inthe snow, and deliberately commenced stamping him to death.
Dick was stunned for a moment, and lay quite still, so the deer left offpommelling him, and stood looking at him. But the instant he moved itplunged at him again and gave him another pounding, until he was contentto lie still. This was done several times, and Dick felt his strengthgoing fast. He was surprised that Crusoe did not come to his rescue,and once he cleared his mouth and whistled to him; but as the deer gavehim another pounding for this, he didn't attempt it again. He now forthe first time bethought him of his knife, and quietly drew it from hisbelt; but the deer observed the motion, and was on him again in amoment. Dick, however, sprang up on his left elbow, and, making severaldesperate thrusts upward, succeeded in stabbing the animal to the heart.
Rising and shaking the snow from his garments, he whistled loudly toCrusoe, and, on listening, heard him whining piteously. He hurried tothe place whence the sound came, and found that the poor dog had falleninto a deep pit or crevice in the rocks, which had been concealed fromview by a crust of snow, and he was now making frantic but unavailingefforts to leap out.
Dick soon freed him from his prison by means of his belt, which he letdown for the dog to grasp, and then returned to camp with as muchdeer-meat as he could carry. Dear meat it certainly was to him, for ithad nearly cost him his life, and left him all black and blue for weeksafter. Happily no bones were broken, so the incident only confined hima day to his encampment.
Soon after this the snow fell thicker than ever, and it became evidentthat an unusually early winter was about to set in among the mountains.This was a terrible calamity, for, if the regular snow of winter set in,it would be impossible for him either to advance or retreat.
While he was sitting on his bear-skin by the campfire one day, thinkinganxiously what he should do, and feeling that he must either make theattempt to escape, or perish miserably in that secluded spot, a strange,unwonted sound struck upon his ear, and caused both him and Crusoe tospring violently to their feet and listen. Could he be dreaming? itseemed like the sound of human voices. For a moment he stood with hiseyes rivetted on the ground, his lips apart and his nostrils distended,as he listened with the utmost intensity. Then he darted out andbounded round the edge of a rock which concealed an extensive but narrowvalley from his view, and there, to his amazement, he beheld a band ofabout a hundred human beings advancing on horseback slowly through thesnow!