by Zane Grey
XII. BEARS
The old hunter walked so swiftly that I had to run to keep up with him.The trail led up the creek, now on one side, again on the other, andI was constantly skipping from stone to stone. The grassy slopes grewfewer, and finally gave way altogether to cracked cliffs and weatheredrocks. A fringe of pine-trees leaned over the top with here and there ablasted spear standing out white.
"I had my trap set up thet draw," said Hiram Bent, as he pointed towardan intersecting canyon. "Just before I waked you I was comin' alonghere, an' I heered an all-fired racket up thar, an' so I watched. Soonthree black bears come paddlin' down, an' the biggest was draggin' thetrap with the chain an' log. Then I hurried to tell you. They can't befar."
"Are they grizzlies?" I asked, trying to speak naturally.
"Nope. Jest plain black bears. But the one with the trap is a whopper.He'll go over four hundred. See the tracks? Looks like somebody'd beenplowin' up the stones."
There were deep tracks in the sand, and broad furrows, and stonesoverturned, and places where a heavy object had crushed the gravel evenand smooth.
The old hunter kept striding on, and I wondered bow he could go so fastwithout running. Presently we came to where the canyon forked. Hiramstarted up the right-hand fork, then suddenly stopped, and, turning,began to go back, carefully examining the ground.
"They've split on us," he explained. "The ole feller with the trap wentup the right-hand draw, an' the mother an' cub took to the left. Now,youngster, can you keep your nerve?"
"I think so."
"Wal, you go after the ole feller. You can't miss him, an' he won't befar. You'll hear him bellerin' long before you git to him, though hemight lay low, so you steer clear of big boulders an' thickets. Killhim, an' then run back an' take up this draw. The she bear is cute an'may give me the slip, but if she doesn't climb out soon I'll head heroff. Hurry on, now. Keep your eye peeled, an' you'll be safe as if youwere to home."
With that he disappeared round the corner of stone wall where thecanyon divided. I wheeled and went to the right. This wing of the canyontwisted and turned and was full of stones. A shallow sheet of watergleamed over its colored bed of gravel. The walls were straight up, and,in places, bulged outward. I flinched at every turn in the canyon;but, with rifle cocked and thrust forward, I went on. The cracks in thewalls, the boulders and pieces of cliff that obstructed my path, and theoccasional thickets--all made me halt with careful step and finger onthe trigger. I followed the splashes on the stones, which told methat the bear had passed that way. As I went cautiously on I felt atightening at my throat. The light above grew dimmer. When I stopped tolisten it was so silent that I heard only the pounding of my heart andmy own quick breathing. I pressed on and on, going faster all the timenot that I felt braver, but I longed to end the suspense. Suddenly thesilence was broken by a threatening roar. It swept down on me, swellingas it continued, and it seemed to fill the canyon. It shook my pulses,it urged me to flight, but I could not move. Then as suddenly it ceased.
For a long moment I stood still, with no idea of advancing farther.The clinking of a chain seemed to release my cramped muscles. Verycautiously I peered around a projecting corner of wall. There sat a hugeblack bear on his haunches holding up a great steel trap which clutchedone of his paws. It was such a strange sight that my fear was forgotten.There was something almost human in the way the bear looked at thattrap. He touched it gingerly with his free paw, and nosed it. I crept upclose to the corner of stone and looked around again. The bear was nowclose to me. I saw the heavy chain and the log to which it was attached.He looked at trap and log in a grave, pathetic way, as if trying toreason about them. Then he roused into furious action, swinging thetrap, dragging the log, and bellowing in such a frightful manner that Idodged back behind the wall.
But this sudden change in the bear, this appalling roar with its note ofpain, awakened me to his suffering. When the noise stopped and I lookedagain, the bear was a sight not to be forgotten. He showed a helpless,terrible fear of the steel-jawed thing on his foot. He dropped down onthe sand with a groan, and there was a despairing look in his eyes.
This made me forget my fear, and I had only one thought--to put himout of his misery. When I leveled my rifle it was as steady as the rockbeside me. Aiming just below his ear, I pressed the trigger. The dullreport re-echoed from wall to wall. The bear lurched slightly, and hishead fell upon his outstretched paws. I waited, ready to shoot againupon the slightest movement, but there was none.
With rifle ready I cautiously approached the bear. As I came close heseemed larger and larger, but he showed no signs of life. I looked atthe glossy black fur, the flecks of blood on the side of his head wheremy bullet had entered, the murderous saw-teeth of the heavy trap bitingto the bone, and the cruelty of that trap seemed to drive from me allpride of achievement. It was nothing except mercy to kill a trappedcrippled bear that could not run or fight. Then and there I gained adislike for trapping animals.
The crack of the old hunter's rifle made me remember that I was to hurryback up the other canyon, so I began to run. I bounded from stone tostone, dashed over the sand-bars, jumped the brook, and went down thatcanyon perhaps in far greater danger of bodily harm than when I had goneup.
But when I turned the corner it was another story. The first canyon hadbeen easy climbing compared to this one. It was narrow, steep, and fullof dead pines fallen from above. Running was impossible. I clamberedupward over the loose stones, under the bridges of pines, round theboulders. Presently I heard a shout. I could not tell where it camefrom, but I replied. A second call I identified as coming from high upthe ragged canyon side, and I started up. It was hard work. Certainly nobears or hunter had climbed out just here. At length, sore, spent, andtorn, I fell out of a tangle of brush upon the edge of the canyon. Aboveme rose the swelling mountain slope thickly covered with dwarf pines.
"This way, youngster!" called the old hunter from my left.
A few more dashes in and out of the brush and trees brought me to afairly open space with not much slope. Hiram Bent stood under a pine,and at his feet lay a black furry mass.
"Wal, I heerd you shoot. Reckon you got yourn?"
"Yes, I killed him.... Say, Mr. Bent, I don't like traps."
"Nary do I--for bears," replied he, shaking his gray head. "A trappedbear is about the pitifulest thing I ever seen. But it's seldom one evergits into trap of mine."
"This one you shot must be the old mother bear. Where's the cub? Did itget away?"
"Not yet. Lookup in the tree."
I looked up the black trunk through the network of slender branches, andsaw the bear snuggling in a fork. His sharp ears stood up against thesky. He was most anxiously gazing down at us.
"Wal, tumble him out of thar," said Hiram Bent.
With a natural impulse to shoot I raised my rifle, but the cub looked soattractive and so helpless that I hesitated.
"I don't like to do it," I said. "Oh, I wish we could catch him alive!"
"Wal, I reckon we can."
"How?" I inquired, eagerly, and lowered my rifle.
"Are you good on the climb?"
"Climb? This tree? Why, with one hand. Back in Pennsylvania I climbedshell-bark hickory-trees with the lowest limb fifty feet from theground. .. But there weren't any bears up them."
"You must keep out of his way if he comes down on you. He's a sassylittle chap. Now take this rope an' go up an' climb round him."
"Climb round him?" I queried, as I gazed dubiously upward. "You mean toslip out on the branches and go up hand-over-hand till I get above him.The branches up there seem pretty close--I might. But suppose he goeshigher?"
"I'm lookin' fer him to go clean to the top. But you can beat him toit--mebbe."
"Any danger of his attacking me--up there?"
"Wal, not much. If he hugs the trunk he'll have to hold on fer all he'sworth. But if he stands on the branches an' you come up close he mightbat you one. Mebbe I'd better go up."
"Oh, I'm
going--I only wanted to know what to expect. Now, in case I getabove him, what then?"
"Make him back down till he reaches these first branches. When he getsso far I'll tell you what to do." I put my arm through the coil of rope,and, slinging it snugly over my shoulder, began to climb the pine. Itwas the work of only a moment to reach the first branch.
"Wal, I reckon you're some relation to a squirrel at thet," said HiramBent. "Jest as I thought the little cuss is climbin' higher. Thet'sgoin' to worry us."
It was like stepping up a ladder from the first branch to the fork.The cub had gone up the right-hand trunk some fifteen feet, and was nowhugging it. At that short distance he looked alarmingly big. But I sawhe would have all he could do to hold on, and if I could climb the lefttrunk and get above him there would be little to fear. How I did itso quickly was a mystery, but amid the cracking of dead branchesand pattering of falling bark and swaying of the tree-top I gained aposition above him.
He was so close that I could smell him. His quick little eyes snappedfire and fear at once; he uttered a sound that was between a whine and agrowl.
"Hey, youngster!" yelled Hiram, "thet's high enough--'tain't safe--becareful now."
With the words I looked out below me, to see the old hunter standing inthe glade waving his arms.
"I'm all right!" I yelled down. "Now, how'll I drive him?"
"Break off a branch an' switch him."
There was not a branch above me that I could break, but a few feet belowwas a slender, dead limb. I slid down and got it, and, holding on withmy left arm and legs, I began to thrash the cub. He growled fiercely.snapped at the stick, and began to back down.
"He's started!" I cried, in glee. "Go on, Cubby--down with you!"
Clumsy as he was, he made swift time. I was hard put to keep close tohim. I slipped down the trunk--holding on one instant and sliding downthe next. But below the fork it was harder for Cubby and easier forme. The branches rather hindered his backward progress while they aidedmine. Growling and whining, with long claws ripping the bark, he wentdown. All of a sudden I became aware of the old hunter threshing aboutunder the tree.
"Hold on--not so fast!" he yelled.
Still the cub kept going, and stopped with his haunches on the firstbranch. There, looking down, he saw an enemy below him, and hesitated.But he looked up, and, seeing me, began to back down again. Hirampounded the tree with a dead branch. Cubby evidently intended to reachthe ground, for the noise did not stop him. Then the hunter ran a littleway to a windfall, and came back with the upper half of a dead sapling.With this he began to prod the bear. Thereupon, Cubby lost no time ingetting up to the first branch again, where he halted.
"Throw the noose on him now--anywhere," ordered the hunter. "An' we'veno time to lose. He's gittin' sassier every minnit."
I dropped the wide loop upon Cubby, expecting to catch him first time.The rope went over his bead, but with a dexterous flip of his paw hesent it flying. Then began a duel between us, in which he continuallygot the better of me. All the while the old hunter prodded Cubby frombelow.
"You ain't quick enough," said Hiram, impatiently.
Made reckless by this, I stepped down to another branch directly overthe bear, and tried again to rope him. It was of no use. He slipped outof the noose with the sinuous movements of an eel. Once it caught overhis ears and in his open jaws. He gave a jerk that nearly pulled me frommy perch. I could tell he was growing angrier every instant, and alsobraver. Suddenly the noose, quite by accident, caught his nose. Hewagged his head and I pulled. The noose tightened.
"I've got him!" I yelled, and gave the rope a strong pull.
The bear stood up with startling suddenness and reached for me.
"Climb!" shouted Hiram.
I dropped the rope and leaped for the branch above, and, catching it,lifted myself just as the sharp claws of the cub scratched hard over myboot.
Cubby now hugged the tree trunk and started up again.
"We've got him!" yelled Hiram. "Don't move--step on his nose if he getstoo close."
Then I saw the halter had come off the bear and had fallen to theground. Hiram picked it up, arranged the noose, and, holding it in histeeth began to limb after the bear. Cubby was now only a few feet underme, working steadily up, growling, and his little eyes were like pointsof green fire.
"Stop him! Stand on his head!" mumbled Hiram, with the rope in histeeth.
"What!--not on your life!"
But, reaching up, I grasped a branch, and, swinging clear of the lowerone, I began to kick at the bear. This stopped him. Then he squealed,and began to kick on his own account. Hiram was trying to get the nooseover a bind foot. After several attempts he succeeded, and then threwthe rope over the lowest branch. I gave a wild Indian yell of triumph.The next instant, before I could find a foothold, the branch to which Iwas hanging snapped like a pistol-shot, and I plunged down with a crash.I struck the bear and the lower branch, and then the ground. The fallhalf stunned me. I thought every bone in my body was broken. I roseunsteadily, and for a moment everything whirled before my eyes. Then Idiscovered that the roar in my ears was the old hunter's yell. I saw himhauling on the rope. There was a great ripping of bark and many strangesounds, and then the cub was dangling head downward. Hiram had pulledhim from his perch, and hung him over the lowest branch.
"Thar, youngster, git busy now!" yelled the hunter. "Grab the otherrope--thar it is--an' rope a front paw while I hold him. Lively now,he's mighty heavy, an' if he ever gits down with only one rope on himwe'll think we're fast to chain lightnin'."
The bear swung about five feet from the ground. As I ran at him with thenoose he twisted himself, seemed to double up in a knot, then he droppedfull-stretched again, and lunged viciously at me. Twice I felt the windof his paws. He spun around so fast that it kept me dancing. I flung thenoose and caught his right paw. Hiram bawled something that made me allthe more heedless, and in tightening the noose I ran in too close. Thebear gave me a slashing cuff on the side of the head, and I went downlike a tenpin.
"Git a hitch thar--to the saplin'!" roared Hiram, as I staggered to myfeet. "Rustle now--hurry!"
What with my ringing head, and fingers all thumbs, and Hiram roaringat me, I made a mess of tying the knot. Then Hiram let go his rope, andwhen the cub dropped to the ground the rope flew up over the branch.Cubby leaped so quickly that he jerked the rope away before Hiram couldpick it up, and one hard pull loosened my hitch on the sapling.
The cub bounded through the glade, dragging me with him. For a few longleaps I kept my feet, then down I sprawled.
"Hang on! Hang on!" Hiram yelled from behind.
If I had not been angry clear through at that cub I might have let go.He ploughed my face in the dirt, and almost jerked my arms off. Suddenlythe strain lessened. I got up, to see that the old hunter had hold ofthe other rope.
"Now, stretch him out!" he yelled.
Between us we stretched the cub out, so that all he could do wasstruggle and paw the air and utter strange cries. Hiram tied his ropeto a tree, and then ran back to relieve me. It was high time. He took myrope and fastened it to a stout bush.
"Thar, youngster, I reckon thet'll hold him! Now tie his paws an' muzzlehim."
He drew some buckskin thongs from his pocket and handed them to me. Wewent up to the straining cub, and Hiram, with one pull of his powerfulhands, brought the hind legs together.
"Tie 'em," he said.
This done, with the aid of a heavy piece of wood he pressed the cub'shead down and wound a thong tightly round the sharp nose. Then he tiedthe front legs.
"Thar! Now you loosen the ropes an' wind them up."
When I had done this he lifted the cub and swung him over his broadback.
"Come on, you trail behind, an' keep your eye peeled to see he doesn'twork thet knot off his jaws.... Say, youngster, now you've got him, whatin thunder will you do with him?"
I looked at my torn trousers, at the blood on my skinned and burninghands, and I felt of t
he bruise on my head, as I said, grimly: "I'llhang to him as long as I can."