CHAPTER VII
Stanley's next camp was pitched down the river where the overlandtelegraph line crossed the Spider Water, and Bucks, installed in asmart army tent with a cracker-box for a stool and a packing-case foran instrument table, was, through Dancing's efforts, put incommunication by wire with Medicine Bend and the west country as faras Sleepy Cat, where the War Department was establishing an armypost.
Stanley, with Bob Scott, now spent a great deal of time in the saddlebetween the bridge and the upper tie-camps, and his presence madeitself felt in the renewed energy everywhere apparent among thecontractors and their men. Bucks, chained to a wire, as he expressedit, found the days dragging again and would much rather have been atliberty to ride with Scott, who, when free, hunted in the foot-hills.
One day Bucks was sitting alone in his tent, looking for thehundredth time over a worn copy of _Harper's Weekly_ that he hadpicked up at Casement's camp, when a dog put his nose in the tentdoor. A glance revealed merely a disconsolate, unpromising cur, yetBucks thought he had seen the dog before and was interested. He seemedof an all-over alkali-brown hue, scant of hair, scant of tail, andwith only melancholy dewlap ears to suggest a strain of nobler bloodin an earlier ancestry. He looked in with the furtive eye of thetramp, and as if expecting that a boot or a club would most probablybe his welcome.
But Bucks at the moment was lonely--as lonely as the dog himself--andas the two fixed their eyes intently on each other, Bucks rememberedthat this was the tie foreman's dog, Scuffy.
Scuffy had appeared at the psychological moment. Bucks regarded him insilence, and the dog perceiving no immediate danger of assault stood,in silence, returning Bucks's stare. Then watching the boy's eyecarefully, the dog cocked his head just the least bit to one side. Itwas a mute appeal, but a moving one. Bucks continued, however, hisnon-committal scrutiny, recalling that the foreman had said nothinggood of Scuffy, and the homeless cur stood in doubt as to hisreception. But realizing, perhaps, that he had nothing to lose andeverything to gain, the little vagabond played his last card--hewagged his stubby tail.
A harder heart than Bucks's might have been touched. The operator heldout his hand. No more was needed; the melancholy tramp steppedcautiously forward waving his alert flag of truce. He sniffed long andcarefully as he neared Bucks, looked solicitously into the boy's eyes,and then smelt and licked the proffered hand. It was a token ofsubmission as plainly expressed as when Friday, kneeling, placedRobinson Crusoe's foot on his head. Bucks reached into a paper bagthat Bill Dancing had left on the table and gave the dog a cracker.
Scuffy snapped up the offering like one starving. A second cracker anda third disappeared at single gulps. For the length of the dog, thesize of his mouth appeared enormous. In a moment the cracker-bag wasemptied and Scuffy again licked the friendly hand. It did not takeBucks long to decide what to do. In another moment he had resolved toadopt his tramp visitor. The day happened to be Friday, and Bucks atonce renamed him Friday. When Dancing, who had been with Bob Scotthunting, came in late that night he found Bucks asleep and Scuffylying in Dancing's own bed, from which he was ejected only after themost vigorous language on his own part as well as on that of thelineman. Even then, Scuffy retreated only as far as Bucks's feet,where he slept for the rest of the night undisturbed.
"Where did he come from?" growled Dancing in the morning as he satwith his pipe regarding the intruder, who acted quite at home, with acritical eye.
Bucks explained that this was the tie foreman's runaway dog, Scuffy,and beyond Scuffy's first appearance at the tent door he could tellhim nothing. Scuffy simply and promptly assumed a place in camp andBucks became, willy-nilly, his sponsor. But his effort to rename himcame to nothing. Scuffy gave no heed when called "Friday," but for"Scuffy" he sprang to attention instantly.
Bill Dancing decided, off-hand, that "the pup" was worthless. Scott,whose smile was kindly even when sceptical, only corrected Bill to theextent of saying that Friday or Scuffy, whoever or whatever he mightbe, was no pup; that he was a full-grown dog and in Bob's judgment hewould need no guardian.
One day, shortly after Scuffy had been put upon the pay-roll, Scottcame in from a trip after venison with word that there were blackbears in the hill canyons. The thought of bear's meat aroused everyone, and Stanley suggested a bear hunt. Scott had to send down toStanley's ranch at Medicine Bend for his dogs and some delay followed.But when the three hounds arrived there was excitement enough tocompensate for it. One of the dogs was a big black fellow and hiscompanions were brown full-bloods. The hounds, one and all, set onScuffy the moment they reached camp, and it was only by the mostdexterous manoeuvres that the strange dog escaped being eaten alive.Indeed, Bob Scott remarked at once that if Scuffy should survive thegreetings of his new comrades he would prove his right to live. Thehounds always set upon him at meal-times, usually chewed him atbed-time, and harried him at all times.
To a less hopeful temperament than Scuffy's, life would not haveseemed worth living. It was only Bucks who insured him anything at allto eat, and the enmity of the big, rangy hounds for the lean andhungry tramp dog left him no peace save when they were fighting indreams. To accept life under such conditions indicated that Scuffy wasa philosopher, and he accepted the conditions cheerfully, filchingwhat he could of sustenance from the common pot and licking histroublesome wounds at night after his truculent companions had gone tosleep.
As soon as the tie-supply trouble had been lessened Stanley tookthings more leisurely and the interval afforded the opportunity forthe delayed bear hunt. Bob Scott and Dancing were to go with Stanley,and Bucks being freed for one day from his key was invited to be ofthe party. All hands were in the saddle by daybreak, and Scott'shounds were baying and tearing around camp wild with excitement.
At the last moment a complication arose. Scuffy, who until the momentof starting had for prudential reasons--that is, to avoid being eatenup--remained in obscurity, joined the hunters. Every one in turn triedto drive him back, but long practice had made him expert in dodgingmissiles and had rendered him insensible to reproach. The hounds weretoo filled with the prospect of sport to pay any attention to Scuffy.In vain, Bob Scott tried to set them on him and drive him back tocamp. On this occasion, when bullying would plainly have beenjustified, no hound would assail Scuffy. Bucks drove him again andagain from the flank of the advance only to have the mortification ofseeing him reappear a mile or two farther along the trail, and it wasat last decided to leave him to his fate at the paw of a bear--whichno one made doubt he was certain to suffer. At that moment Bucks andBill Dancing, riding together, saw a deer frightened from a thicketrunning toward the river. Bucks jumped from his horse and lifted hisrifle to take a shot, but by the time he was ready to fire the deerhad vanished.
Led by Scott, the hunters rode at once into the rough country to thewest, where in the mountain fastnesses the bears loved to feed. Thehounds gave tongue vigorously, and Scuffy, who had by this time notonly established himself but had impudently taken the lead and washeading the pack, barked loudest and longest.
"Did anybody ever see conceit equal to that?" demanded Stanley. "Lookat that cur leading the hounds."
Bucks was mortified and expressed his regret.
"Don't mind him, Bucks," remarked Dancing consolingly. "That dog won'tbother long. The first time the hounds run in, the bear will finish_him_."
Bucks did not know precisely what Bill meant by "running in," but hewas not to be long in doubt. The pack struck a fresh trail almost atonce and the hunters had a long ride along a mountain-side coveredwith fallen timber and cut by innumerable wash-outs that made theriding hard and dangerous. Scott found intervals to encourage Bucks,whose youth and inexperience made his task of keeping up with theothers a difficult one. "Take it easy," said Scott encouragingly asthe operator tried to urge his mount.
"I am keeping you all back, Bob."
"Plenty of time. You are doing wonders for mountain-riding. When weclose in on the bear don't be too keen to get near him. You wouldn
'tbe safe for a minute on your horse if the dogs didn't keep the bearbusy. As long as the dogs worry the bear you are safe. A bear willnever chase a man as long as a dog keeps at him. It's only when thedogs refuse to go in any longer that the danger begins. When thathappens, look out. Keep a respectful distance all the time and a roadopen behind you. That's all there is to a bear fight."
As he spoke, the hounds yelped sharply and Scott spurred forward. Thehunters were threading a grove of quaking asp and the dogs had comeup with the bear on an opening of shale rock surrounded by downtimber. Throwing his reins and advancing cautiously on foot, Stanley,followed by his companions, who spread themselves in a widesemicircle, took his place, the others, as they best could, choosingtheir own.
The bear, a full-grown male, met the onset of the hounds with grimconfidence. The dogs encircled him with a ring of ferocious teeth,running in from behind whenever they could to nip the huge beast inthe haunches or on the flank. But the surprise of the encounter wasScuffy.
"Look," cried Bill Dancing, under whose wing Bucks had taken his post."Look at him! Why, the pup is a world-beater!"
In truth, Scuffy was the liveliest and most impudent dog in the pack,and when the fight was fully on, managed to worry the angry bear morethan the hounds did. Within a moment the black hound, over-bold,imprudently rushed the bear in front. A paw darting from the hugebeast caught him like a trip-hammer and stretched him helpless. Inthat moment the bear exposed himself to Stanley's rifle and a shotrang across the mountain-side. Scott watched the result anxiously. Butthe slug instead of dropping the bear served only to enrage him. Foran instant the two hounds lost their heads and the infuriated bearcharged Bucks and Bill Dancing.
The shale opening became a scene of confusion. Exposing himselfrecklessly, Scott tried to urge the dogs forward, but they had losttheir nerve. It needed only this to upset everything. The huntersclosed in together, and the critical moment had come; deaf alike tocommand and entreaty, the two hounds refused to go in, and Scuffy,flying wildly about the bear, seemed unable to check him. Dancingstopped long enough to take one shot, and ran--with Bucks, who hadfound no chance to shoot, following. The bear gained fast on thelong-legged lineman and his boy companion. A wash-out, hidden by aclump of bushes, lay directly in the path of flight. Dancing,perceiving it, dashed to the left and escaped. He shouted a warning toBucks, who, not understanding, plunged straight over the declivityand sprawled into the wash-out with the bear after him. Catching hisrifle, the boy scrambled to his feet with his pursuer less than twentyfeet away. Between the two there was only open ground, and the bearwas scrambling for Bucks when Scuffy sprang down the shale bank andconfronted the enemy.
It looked like certain death for Scuffy, but the tramp dog did nothesitate. He rushed at the bear with a fury of snapping, though notwithout a lively respect for the sweep of the brute's fore paws. Thelittle dog, freeing himself forever in that moment from the stigma ofcur, put up a fight that astonished the big brute.
Scuffy raced at him first on one side and then on the other, boundingin and out like a rubber ball, dashing across his front and runningclear around the circling bear, nipping even an occasional mouthful ofhair from his haunches. He made noise enough for a pack of dogs andsimulated a fury that gave the bear the surprise of his life. Bucksrealized that only his four-legged friend stood between him anddestruction and that so unequal a contest could not endure long.Skilful as the little fellow was, he was pitted against an antagonistquite as quick and wary. The clumsiness of the bear was no more thanseeming, and any one of the terrific blows he dealt at Scuffy with hishuge paw would have stretched a man lifeless. Bucks, collecting hisdisordered faculties, raised his rifle to help his champion with ashot. His heart beat like a hammer in his throat, but he knew therewas only one thing to do, that was to get the rifle-sights carefullylined in his eye and shoot when Scuffy gave him an opening.
It came in a moment when the bear turned to smash Scuffy on his flank.Bucks fired. To his amazement, no result followed. The failure of thebear to show any sign of being hit stunned him, and he drew hisrevolver, never expecting to escape alive, when two shots rang acrossthe wash as close together as if fired by the same hand. The bear sanklike a falling tree. Yet he rallied and again rushed for Bucks,despite Scuffy's stout opposition and the yells from above, andfinally halted only when Bob Scott, jumping into the wash-out,confronted him with a knife. There was an instant of apprehension,broken by a third shot from Dancing's rifle across the gully, and thebear crumpled lifeless almost at Scott's feet.
The scout turned to Bucks as he stood dazed by his narrow escape.Stanley, above, shouted. And Bill Dancing, carrying his empty rifle,and with his face bleeding from the briers, made his way down theopposite side of the wash. Scuffy, mounting the body of his dead foe,barked furiously.
The little dog was the real hero of the encounter. He had paidhis keep and earned his way as a member of the family and as abear-fighter. When Bucks picked up his rifle he told Scott of hisbad miss in the critical moment of the fight. Bob took the gun fromhis hands and examined the sights good-naturedly. Bucks hadneglected to change the elevation after he had aimed at the deeran hour earlier.
"Next time you shoot at a bear twenty feet away, don't leave yoursights set for two hundred yards," was all Scott said.