CHAPTER XIV
THE WRECK
For weary hours the ox-cart plodded along the country road, and at lastthe long shadows deepened into twilight and the stars came out and it wasnight, but still they journeyed on.
The soft night-winds quickened into being the fragrance of many a flowerthat had not been noticed in the full heat of day. But wind andfragrance, night and daylight were all the same to Black Bruin, for thatwhich made the world beautiful, and his strong free life worth living,was gone. Freedom was no longer his, and he cowered upon the floor ofhis prison, laid his head between his paws, and acted more like a whippedpuppy than the great strong brute that he was.
Finally the ox-team drew up at a long, low building, and the men unloadedthe crate upon a narrow platform.
Here they were soon joined by another man who came from the building.
"How long before the night freight ter H---- comes along, Bill?" drawledone of the men in charge of Black Bruin. "Alec, here, has got a bar asbig as a cow that he is a-takin' to the circus which'll be at H----to-morrow. He don't want to miss it."
"It's due now," replied the station-agent, and even as he spoke, theshrill whistle of the freight sounded in the distance.
A little later Black Bruin heard a distant rumbling and clanging whichwas like nothing that he had ever heard before. Then there was avibration of the solid floor under him, and the long, heavily loadedfreight thundered down upon the little station.
As the hideous, clanging, shrieking, hissing monster rushed down uponthem, coming seemingly straight for the wooden crate, Black Bruin sprangagainst the bars with such violence that he nearly tipped it over, andgave his captors a great scare.
In a very few minutes, however, the crate, together with the otherfreight, was hustled into an empty car, and the train pulled out and wentthundering away into the darkness.
At first the motion made Black Bruin very uneasy, and he walked to andfro continually; but finally this was succeeded by his being car-sick,and he was soon glad to lie down and keep very still for the rest of thejourney.
This was his first night upon a freight train, but it was not his last,for ahead of him was a strange and turbulent existence. He was going tothe great city to join the circus, to be a part of that astonishingprocession which annually parades the streets of our large cities, andwhich draws crowds, such as does no other entertainment.
Toward morning, after having made several stops, the car in which BlackBruin was a passenger was side-tracked, and a large, gilded wagon, knownto the small boy as a circus-van, was backed up to it. Then the cratewas placed against the cage on the van, and both doors were opened.
The new prison looked much more fragile than that in which Black Bruinwas. The bars were very small and might be easily broken. It waslighter, too, than his present abode, so after a little poking andpunching, the captive went into the other prison, and a moment later,when he turned about to look for the doorway by which he had entered, itwas closed and the wooden crate was being taken away. Man had againoutwitted him, but the manner in which he was now confined seemed veryinsecure to Black Bruin. He would soon either find a way out, or elsemake one. With this in view, he went about the cage several times,sniffing and poking his nose between the bars. He put his powerful armsbetween two of the bars and strained upon them with all his enormousstrength, but they did not seem to give at all. Then he sought to grindone to splinters between his teeth, but instead he broke a tooth, and theeffort made him see stars.
What new and amazing substance was this, which could not be bent orbroken, or even bitten into? The more Black Bruin pushed at the ironbars of his cage, the fainter grew that spark of hope which is themainspring of all life, until at last he ceased to hope altogether, andbowing to the inevitable, no longer sought to be free. Sullenly heglared at the gaping crowds that passed his cage daily, and the onlything to which he looked forward was his food. This he received each dayat about noon.
What it all meant, he could not imagine. The great crowds, the blare ofbands, the gala dress and the babel of voices all reminded him of thecountry fairs that he had often attended with Pedro, in the olddancing-bear days.
The long journeys by rail he soon got used to, so that he was no longersick, but it was a weary existence. The snap and rattle of car-wheelswas continually in his ears, and if it was not that, it was the rattleand the rumble of heavy wheels over paving-stones, the noise of thebrazen-throated circus-band, or the high and insistent calliope. Noise,noise, noise everywhere.
When the animals were fed, there was the roaring of the lions, thesnapping and snarling of wolves, jaguars, pumas, and the hideous laugh ofthe hyena; the chattering of the monkeys, and the piping and croaking ofstrange, tropical birds. And, more insistent than any of these, thebellowing of the sacred cattle from India, and the belling and bleatingof strange deer, not to mention the cavernous trumpeting of elephantswhen their keepers prodded them into obedience.
There is but one law in the circus, and that is the law of fear. All thewild beasts are ruled by it alone. The tricks that the great cats do areclubbed into them, and the elephants' ears are often so torn by thetrainer's iron that they hang in ribbons.
It is only with the domestic animals, like the horses and the trick-dogs,that the trainer can exercise gentle persuasion. So in this great arena,this bedlam of wild beasts, were often heard the blows of club and lash,and the sharp report of pistols fired in the faces of unruly big cats.
How the two mammoth tents, covering many acres, and a dozen smaller onescame and went was a mystery to the general circus-goer. In the forenoonthey went up like white mountains, and in the evening, almost before thelast spectator had left his seat, they began to come down. Sometimes inhalf an hour after the last whistle had sounded, the tents and all thecircus paraphernalia were packed in wagons and rumbling off to the depot.It was a life of hustle and bustle, jostle and push, here to-day, and ahundred miles away tomorrow.
The small boy, who was up before the first pale streak of light appearedin the east, and off to the freight-yards to see the four or five longcircus trains come in, could have told you something about the marvelousway in which circus-men handle their strange caravan. There was always acrowd of these enterprising urchins standing wide-eyed and with gapingmouths, while the circus wonders were being unloaded.
They could have told you that the great gaudy vans were loaded on a trainof flat cars, and that a single horse working a rope and pulley-blocktrundled the vans from the train nearly as fast as their respectiveteamsters could hitch horses to them and drive away. These boys knewthat the stake and chain wagon was always the first to leave the train.Some of them usually fell in behind it and followed to the circusgrounds, for it was good sport to see men with heavy sledge-hammers drivethe many stakes and stretch the long chain which formed the perimeter ofthe mammoth tent, and behind which all the vans would ultimately taketheir places.
After the stake and chain wagon, came wagons bearing the cooking anddining tents, for breakfast is a most important matter when you have fivehundred hungry people to feed. By nine o'clock the vast concourse wereall on the circus ground, breakfast was over and preparations for thegreat parade were on foot. Nearly everything in the circus, with theexception of the side-shows, had to take part in the parade.
Only the small boy, who stands upon the pavement, holding to lamp-post oriron hitching-post to steady himself in the wild excitement, can tell youhow his heart races and his blood leaps as the first gilded chariotswings around the corner into the main street. Thoughts of this momenthave been in the boy's mind for weeks, and the realization is alwaysgreater than his anticipation. No matter if it is a small one-horseshow, the hallucination of paint and tinsel, and gleam and glitter arethere, and what a concourse it is! To get together this strange medleyof men and women, beasts, birds and reptiles, the ends of the earth havebeen scoured. All Asia, from Siberia to India is there. Africa isrepresented from the Nile to Cape Town. The step
pes of Russia and everyout-of-the-way corner of Europe have been visited by the agents of theshowman, and the result is legion. South America, with the wonders ofthe Amazon and the pampas and the high fauna of the Andes, is there. Ourown continent also contributes largely, for the Rockies and the Selkirksstill hold wonders for the eyes of youth. Even if we could contribute nowild beasts, there would still be ample reward for the boy in viewing ourIndians, cow-punchers and real live scouts, such as our border-life alonecan furnish.
It was as a feature of such a motley procession as this that BlackBruin's van was daily rattled over the paving-stones and finally took itsplace each day in the mammoth tent behind the chain, in readiness for thenoon feeding. His van always followed that of a den of gray timberwolves and was in turn followed by the great white polar bear.
Black Bruin often wondered why his large cousin from the Arctic Circlespent so much of his time swaying to and fro. It was a queer trick thathe had, whenever he was not in his tank of water, of forever swaying backand forth, back and forth. Black Bruin often felt fairly frantichimself, and would pace to and fro for hours, but he could see no reliefin this continual swaying.
Although he had been sold to the circus-agent as a trick-bear, who couldtake stoppers out of bottles and do other marvelous tricks, yet he was somorose during the first summer of his circus life that the keeper coulddo nothing with him as a trick-bear; so he merely paraded as one of thewild beasts.
Men, women and little children came and went in front of his cage by thethousands and ten thousands. Often the keeper would reach in with astick and poke Black Bruin to make him growl, for this amused thechildren. He soon learned what was expected of him, and would growlalmost before the stick touched him.
In the hot, stifling summer days, when his cage seemed so cramped andunendurable, how Black Bruin thirsted for the woods, he alone knew.Sometimes he would fall asleep and dream of the old free life, only towake to the torment of his prison-bars.
There was but one incident during the first year of Black Bruin's circuslife that is worth mentioning. The circus was showing in a fair-sizedcity in Northern New York, in St. Lawrence River County. The day wasexceptionally warm, the crowd was unusually large and the torment ofcaptivity was unusually galling to the wild beasts.
Black Bruin was restless and paced to and fro in his cage, and sniffedits bars more often than usual.
Suddenly from out the babel about him a voice spoke that fell pleasantlyon his ear and in the sound was something that he remembered. When thevoice ceased speaking, some psychological reaction slipped a slide in thebrute mind, the impression of which had been gained many years before,and the great bear saw, as plainly as he had seen it then, the farmhousewith the chicken-coops in the front yard, and ducks, geese, turkeys andhens all moving about over the green turf. There was the barn and theoutbuildings and the long low hen-house where he had so often robbed thehens' nests. Then the scene shifted slightly and the dreamer saw theorchard at the back of the farmhouse with its gnarled and twisted treesand the row of little white houses in the shade near by. "Hum, hum,zip--hum," went the bees flying in from their long quest afield in searchof the heart secret of the floral world. But whether it was the droningof bees or the hum of many voices that he heard Black Bruin could nottell.
At this point in his reverie he looked through his bars at three of thecircus-goers who were evincing peculiar interest in him. These were aman, a woman, and a boy of about nine years.
"What a fine bear," the man was saying; "much larger than the old femalethat I shot on that----" But the man did not finish the sentence, fornoticing the pallor that crept into his wife's face at his words and theshiver that ran through her frame, he desisted.
"Look here, sonny," he continued to the boy, "if we had been able to havekept Black Bruin until now he would probably have looked just about likethis old chap. What do you think of that?"
"Whew," whistled the boy. "Ain't he a monster? Our bear wasn't morethan a quarter as big."
"No," replied the man. "That was because he was not grown, but he was afine cub when we let the peddler have him. I have often wondered whatbecame of him."
"Wasn't Bar-bar cunning," exclaimed the boy, "when he was a little fuzzyfellow and I used to roll about with him on the floor and pull his ears,just like the photograph you had taken of us."
"Come, John, let's look at some of the other animals," said the boy'smother. "Bar-bar was all right, but it gives me the shivers to look at afull-grown black bear like this." So the three moved on to the wolf-den.
Black Bruin sniffed the bars of his cage where the man's hand had restedupon it for a moment, as the three moved away. The man-scent too awokestrange memories which he could not understand. It was like coming upona well-remembered spot in a stream where he had once captured a largesalmon, or some burrow under a stump where he had dug out a lucklessrabbit. But soon even the remembrance of the pleasant voices, that insome strange way suggested something dim and distant, was forgotten, theman-scent on the bars of his cage was obliterated, and Black Bruin wasback in the old rut, bumping and thumping over paving-stones and seeinghis van continually being rolled on or off the flat car which carried it.
Finally the long hard trips were over for that season and the circus wentinto winter quarters.
This winter Black Bruin did not hibernate as he usually did, but spentthe time in a series of short naps. Each day he came forth from hisimprovised den to stretch and to eat. Toward spring, by dint of muchcoaxing and liberal rewards of sugar and honey, the keeper got upon goodterms with him and finally discovered most of his tricks.
When the next season opened, the prisoner found that he was to have alittle more freedom and a rather more varied existence than that of theyear before.
Upon the circus bills he appeared as Napoleon Bonaparte, the wonderfultrick-bear; and there was a striking and astonishing picture of him inthe act of opening a bottle and drinking from it.
Small boys stood spellbound before this picture, and they were still moreastonished when the real live bear was led into the ring and marched upand down with a wooden gun upon his shoulder, while the performance ofhis bottle-trick always created a rustle all over the tent. This was thesurest sign of a great hit.
So now each day, in addition to appearing in the grand cavalcade and thestreet-parade, Black Bruin had to come into the ring each afternoon andevening and go through his senseless tricks.
The only thing that kept him good-natured and up to the mark, was thefact that his bottle was always filled with some pleasing drink, so hehad that to look forward to after each performance of the trick. Therewere also sweets in waiting for him when he came out of the ring.
Thus went the endless round. Here to-day and there to-morrow. In theevening a magic city of white tents would be seen upon the grounds, butby midnight all had been stowed away in four or five long trains, whichsoon were thundering over the rails to a distant city, where for the pastthree weeks posters had announced the coming of the circus.
Thus the days and weeks of Black Bruin's second year in the circus passedand they concluded the season at Nashville, Tennessee. Then all theparaphernalia was loaded with even more care than usual, for they wereoff for the long trip northward, to their winter quarters.
That night when they loaded the elephants and the trick-ponies, some ofthem hung back and refused to board the train, a tendency most unusual ontheir part; but they finally obeyed the goad and lash and all were stowedaway in their customary places.
It was about midnight when the train bearing Black Bruin's van pulledout. One by one the cars bumped over the switch and the long train gotunder way. At first the locomotive puffed and panted as though the loadwere too great for it, but finally the train got up momentum and thecar-wheels sang their old song of rat-a-clat-rat-a-clat-rat-a-tat-tat,while the engine assumed its familiar song of
"Rushing, pulling, snatch the train along, Tugging, pulling, locomotive strong."
 
; This is the song that a locomotive always sings when it is off for along, hard pull.
On, on through the darkness the train sped, the engine sending forthshowers of sparks that twinkled in the gloom like fireflies, and thenwent out.
But the most conspicuous thing about the train was the headlight, whichthrew its long cylindrical shaft of light far ahead, like a mighty augerof fire boring into the darkness. No matter how hard the engine puffedand panted or how fast the drivers thundered over the rails, this brightcylinder of light was always just so far ahead, illuminating the gleamingrails, flashing into deep cuts, lighting up cliffs and forest, and longstretches of open fields.
Black Bruin was not asleep in his cage, as he usually was on longjourneys like this. Somehow, he felt restless and ill at ease. Hesniffed his bars often, but the heavy shutters were down and no sign offreedom was at hand. Yet in some unaccountable manner, the wind suckingthrough the cracks between the shutters blew fresher and sweeter thanusual. It tasted of pine-woods and deep tangles of swamp-land, where allthe roots that a bear likes grow.
The train had left the low-lying lands far behind and was coming into thefoothills--those friendly steps by which tired feet climb to themountains above. It was rushing down a steep grade, traveling by its ownmomentum, upon a rather precipitous pathway cut in a side hill, whensomething happened. Perhaps it was a broken rail, or maybe a greatboulder had toppled down the mountainside and lay upon the track; but theimportant thing was that suddenly, without a second's warning, the enginebucked like a balky broncho, and after one or two mad plunges along theroadbed, toppled over the bank and rolled into the gulley below. At thefirst impact of the locomotive with the long train behind it, the freightarched its back and writhed and twisted like a mighty serpent. Three ofthe cars went over the bank still attached to the engine and the restpiled up on one another or rolled down into the gulley, as fate willed.There was crash upon crash and thunder upon thunder as the heavy carspiled in a frightful heap. There was the groan of iron and steel beingbent and broken, and the crash and creak and crackle of breaking,grinding car-floors.
When we add to this the roar of lions, the shrieking of horses, thetrumpeting of elephants, the snarling and snapping of wolves, jaguars,hyenas and a chorus of other cries from the circus bedlam, the roar ofsteam as it escaped through an open valve in the locomotive, and theshriek of the whistle which blew continually, we can get some idea of thewreck, as the gorgeous splendor of the barbaric show was piled in ruins.
It was such sights and sounds as these that greeted Black Bruin as hesqueezed through the battered, broken door of his cage into freedom. Hehad felt himself rolling over and over. First he was upon the bottom ofhis cage and then standing upon the inverted roof. Three times he bumpedfrom the top to the bottom and back again in rapid succession. What didit mean? His van had never acted like this.
It was all so quick that he merely emitted a frightened bawl or two andlay still, cowering in the corner of his cage. Then in someunaccountable way he became aware that his cage-door was open. His backwas to it, but the wind that blew in upon him, was the wind of the woodsand the waters, and not the stifling, filtered wind of his prison.
As this sense was borne in upon him, Black Bruin lost no time inscrambling out through the opening.
His first act on coming forth into the open air with the moon and thestars and the free sky above him, was to stretch. He then looked abouthim as though uncertain what was coming next.
As he stood irresolute, looking first at the wreck and then away to theoutline of a great mountain that stretched above him, seeming to reach upinto the very heavens, the long, lithe form of a panther slipped by himand melted into the darkness. A moment later a jaguar followed it; theywere going back to freedom.
Then Black Bruin stretched his nose high in air and sniffed the freshuntamed winds. They were sweet with the scent of the southern pine.Suggestions of the persimmon fruit were also there and the tantalizingodor of witch-hazel and other sweet scents that the bear knew not. Therewas a clump of underbrush just ahead and into it Black Bruin crashed.
Weeds swished as he passed and the brush whipped his face. With bushesparting and grasses and weeds bending at his coming, the old sense offreedom came surging back to the escaped prisoner and he stretched outhis strong muscles, which had been so long cramped in the cage, andshuffled up the side of the mountain at his best pace. Through thicketsand brambles he crashed with a wild exultation; up precipitate crags helabored with feverish excitement and frenzy that grew with each moment.He sniffed at the rustling fronds and mosses as he passed, with wilddelight. How fresh, how new, how satisfying the wilderness was!
Now racing through deep gulches, and now scrambling up steep bluffs withsheer delight of motion, he fled.
At last the moon set and the stars faded and from the heart of theCumberland Mountains, near the top of one of its most jagged andunfrequented spurs, Black Bruin beheld his first sunrise in southernskies.
Slowly the east warmed and glowed until at last the golden disk mountedover the top of a twin peak and gilded the mountain upon which BlackBruin stood with a flood of golden sunlight. Birds began to twitterstrange songs in the tree-tops and thickets and the high peak sang forjoy at the sun's coming.
At this auspicious moment, Black Bruin reared upon his hind legs andplacing his forepaws high upon the trunk of a sentinel pine, raked a deepscar in the bark. This was his hall-mark;--the sign by which he tookpossession of the mountain and the surrounding lowlands, just as thediscoverers did of old.
This land was to be his, where he would dwell and seek his meat and mate,and live the life of a wild beast to the end of his days.
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