CHAPTER XXVIII.
THE FIGHT WITH THE GRIZZLY.
The New World has no reason to envy the Old in the matter of ferociousanimals of every description and every species. The family of theplantigrades has obtained an enormous development in America, andpossesses races of a ferocity before which all the wild beasts of ourcontinent turn pale.
We will speak here of the animal endowed with a prodigious strength,blind courage, and unbounded cruelty, which the learned call _ursuscinereus_, and the Americans the grizzly bear. Most travellers draw aterrific feature of this animal, saying that it combines with thestupidity of the Polar bear the ferocity and courage of the greatcarnivora. Though a traveller myself, I am forced humbly to confess thatthe stories of these gentry must be accepted with some reserve, who,often placed in perilous situations, or ill-disposed mentally andbodily, have seen badly, and, in spite of themselves, yielding to theinfluence of the moment, have unconsciously indulged in exaggerations,which have gradually become articles of faith, and are now accepted assuch.
I have no intention to rehabilitate the grizzly bear in the minds of myreaders; still, I will ask them not to be more unjust to it than theyare to other animals sent into the world by the Creator. Hence, layingaside all exaggerations, and confining ourselves to the strictest truth,we will, in a few words, describe the grizzly bear and its habits.During our long stay in America, we saw enough of these animals, and insufficient proximity to be accepted as a credible witness.
My readers will see from the portrait of this animal, correct, if notflattering though it be, that it is naturally ugly enough, both morallyand physically, not to require to be rendered more hideous and convertedinto a monster. The grizzly, when it has reached its full growth, isabout ten feet in length; its coat is woolly, very thick, and perfectlygrey, excepting round the ears, where it is brown. Its face is terrible;it is the most ferocious and dangerous of all the American carnivora. Inspite of its clumsy shape and heavy appearance, its agility is extreme.It is the more to be feared, because its indomitable courage emanatesfrom the consciousness of its prodigious strength, and is always akinto fury. The grizzly attacks all animals, but chiefly the largerruminants, such as buffaloes, oxen, &c. What has probably given rise tothe exaggerated stories of travellers, is the fact that the grizzly beardoes not hibernate, and as during winter it starves among thesnow-covered mountains, it descends to the plains to find food. Theredskins carry on a deadly warfare with it, in order to obtain its longsharp claws, of which they form collars, to which they set great value.
It was with one of these formidable animals that Valentine suddenlyfound himself face to face. The rencontre was most disagreeable; stillwhen the first emotion had passed off, the hunters boldly made up theirminds.
"It is a combat to death," Valentine said laconically; "you know thegrizzly never draws back."
"What shall we do?" Don Miguel asked.
"See what he does first," the hunter continued. "It is evident that thisanimal has fed, else it would not return to its lair. You know thatbears go out but little; if we are lucky enough to deal with a bear thathas had a good dinner, it will be an immense advantage for us."
"Why so?"
"For the simple reason," Valentine said with a laugh, "that, like allpeople whose meal hours are irregular, when bears sit down to dinner,they eat with extreme gluttony, which renders them heavy, sleepy, anddeprives them, in a word, of one half their faculties."
"Hum!" Don Miguel observed; "I fancy what is left them is quite enough."
"And so do I; but, quiet, I fancy the beast has made up his mind."
"That is to say," Don Pablo remarked, "that it is making itsarrangements to attack us."
"That is what I meant to say," Valentine replied.
"Well, we will not let it make the first demonstration."
"Oh, don't be frightened, Don Miguel, I am used to bear hunting; thisone certainly does not expect what I am preparing for it."
"Providing you do not miss your shot: in that case we should be lost,"Don Miguel observed.
"By Jove! I know that: so I shall take my measures in accordance."
Curumilla, stoical as ever, had cut a piece of candlewood, and concealedhimself in the shrubs only a few paces from the wild beast. The bear,after a moment's hesitation, during which it looked round with an eyeflashing with gloomy fire, as if counting the number of foes it had tofight, uttered a second growl, as it passed a tongue as red as bloodover its lips.
"That is it," Valentine said with a laugh; "lick your chops, my finefellow; still, I warn you that your mouth is watering too soon--you havenot got us yet."
The bear seemed to notice the bravado, for it made an effort, and itsmonstrous head entirely appeared above the level of the platform.
"Did I not tell you it had eaten too much?" the hunter went on. "Seewhat difficulty it finds in moving. Come, sluggard," he said, addressingthe terrible animal, "shake yourself up a little."
"Take care," Don Miguel shouted.
"The brute is going to leap on you," Don Pablo said in agony.
In fact, the bear, by a movement swift as lightning, had escaladed theplatform with a gigantic bound, and was now scarce twenty yards from theintrepid hunter. Valentine did not move, not one of his muscles shook:he merely clenched his teeth as if going to break them, and a white foamappeared at the corner of his lips. The beast, surprised by theintrepidity of the man, cowed by the electric fluid that flashed fromthe hunter's haughty eye, fell back a step. For a moment it remainedmotionless, with hanging head; but it soon began tearing up the groundwith its formidable claws, as if encouraging itself to begin the attack.
Suddenly it turned round. Curumilla profited by the movement, of thetorch he held in readiness for the purpose, and at a signal fromValentine, made the light flash before the bear. The animal, dazzled bythe brilliant glare of the torch, which suddenly dissipated the darknessthat surrounded it, savagely rose on its hind legs, and turning towardthe Indian, tried to clutch the torch with one of its forepaws, probablyin order to put it out.
Valentine cocked his rifle, stood firmly on his legs, aimed carefully,and began whistling softly. So soon as the sound reached the bear'sears, it stopped, and remained thus for some seconds as if trying toaccount for this unusual noise. The hunter still whistled: the witnessesof the scene held their breath, so interested were they in the strangeincidents of this duel between intellect and brute strength. Still theykept their hands on their weapons, ready to hurry to their friend'shelp, should he be in danger.
Valentine was calm, gently whistling to the bear, which gradually turnedits head toward him. Curumilla, with the lighted torch in his hand,attentively watched all the animal's movements. The bear at length facedthe hunter; it was only a few paces from him, and Valentine felt its hotand fetid breath. The man and the brute gazed on each other; the bear'sbloodshot eye seemed riveted on that of the Frenchman, who looked at itintrepidly while continuing to whistle softly.
There was a moment, an age of supreme anxiety. The bear, as if to escapethe strange fascination it suffered under, shook its head twice, andthen rushed forward with a fearful growl. At the same instant a shot wasfired.
Don Miguel and his son ran up. Valentine, with his rifle butt resting onthe ground, was laughing carelessly, while two paces from him theterrible animal was uttering howls of fury, and writhing in its dyingconvulsions. Curumilla bending forward, was curiously watching themovements of the animal as it rolled at his feet.
"Thank Heaven," Don Miguel eagerly exclaimed. "You are safe, my friend."
"Did you fancy that I ran any danger?" the hunter answered simply.
"I trembled for your life," the hacendero said with surprise andadmiration.
"It was not worth the trouble, I assure you," the hunter saidcarelessly; "grizzly and I are old acquaintances; ask Curumilla how manywe have knocked over in this way."
"But," Don Pablo objected, "the grizzly bear is invulnerable; bulletsflatten on its skull, and glide off its f
ur."
"That is perfectly true; still, you forget there is a spot where it canbe hit."
"I know it, the eye; but it is almost impossible to hit it at the firstshot; to do so a man must be endowed with marvellous skill, not to sayadmirable courage and coolness."
"Thank you," Valentine replied with, a smile; "now that our enemy isdead, I would ask you to look and tell me where I hit it."
The Mexicans stooped down quickly; the bear was really dead. Itsgigantic corpse, which Curumilla was already preparing to strip of itsmagnificent coat, covered a space of nearly ten feet. The hunter'sbullet had entered its right eye; the two gentlemen uttered a cry ofadmiration.
"Yes," Valentine said, replying to their thought, "it was not a badshot; but be assured that this animal enjoys an usurped reputation,owing to the habit it has of attacking man, whom, however, it hardlyever conquers."
"But look, my friend, at those sharp claws; why, they are nearly sixinches long."
"That is true; I remember a poor Comanche, on whose shoulder a grizzlylet his paw fall, and completely smashed it. But, is it an interestingsport? I confess that it possesses an irresistible attraction for me."
"You are quite at liberty, my friend," said Don Miguel, "to find adelight in fighting such monsters, and I can account for it; the lifeyou lead in the desert has so familiarised you with danger, that you nolonger believe in it; but we dwellers in towns have, I confess, aninvincible respect and terror for this monster."
"Nonsense, Don Miguel, how can you say when I have seen you engaged in ahand-to-hand fight with tigers?"
"That is possible, my friend; I would do so again, if necessary--but ajaguar is not a grizzly."
"Come, come, I will not tease you any longer. While Curumilla preparesour breakfast, I will go down into the ravine. Help my friend to roast apiece of my game, and I am sure when you have tasted it, the exquisiteflavour will make you quite alter your opinion about friend Grizzly."
And carelessly throwing his rifle on his shoulder, which he hadreloaded, Valentine then entered the chaparral, in which he almostimmediately disappeared.
The game, as Valentine called the grizzly, weighed about four hundredweight. After flaying it with that dexterity the Indians possess,Curumilla, aided by the two Mexicans, hung up the body to a branch, thatbent beneath its weight; he cut steaks from the loin, and took out thepluck, which regular hunters consider the most delicate part of thebeast; and then, while Don Miguel and Don Pablo lit the fire, and laidthe steaks on the ashes, the Indian entered the cave.
Don Pablo and his father, long accustomed to the Araucano chief's way ofbehaving, made no remark, but went on with the preparations forbreakfast actively, the more so because the night's fatigues and theirlong privations had given them an appetite which the smell of thecooking meat only heightened.
Still, the meal had been ready some time, and Valentine had notreturned. The two gentlemen were beginning to feel anxious. Nor didCurumilla emerge either from the cavern in which he had now been upwardsof an hour. The Mexicans exchanged a glance.
"Can anything have happened?" Don Miguel asked.
"We must go and see," said Don Pablo.
They rose; Don Pablo proceeded toward the cave, while his father went tothe end of the platform. At this moment Valentine arrived on one side,Curumilla on the other, holding two young bearskins in his hands.
"What does that mean?" Don Pablo in his surprise could not refrain fromasking.
The Indian smiled. "It was a she-bear," he said.
"Are we going to breakfast?" Valentine asked.
"Whenever you like, my friend," Don Miguel answered; "we were onlywaiting for you."
"I have been gone a long time."
"More than an hour."
"It was not my fault. Just fancy, down there it is as dark as in anoven. I had great difficulty in finding our friend's body; but, thanksto heaven, it is now in the ground, and protected from the teeth of thecoyotes and the other vermin of the prairie."
Don Miguel took his hand and pressed it tenderly, while tears ofgratitude ran down his cheeks.
"Valentine," he said, with great emotion. "You are better than all ofus; you think of everything; no circumstance, however grave it may be,can make you forget what you regard in the light of a duty. Thanks, myfriend, thanks, for having placed in the ground the poor general's body;you have made me very happy."
"That will do," Valentine said, as he turned his head away, not to letthe emotion he felt in spite of himself, be noticed; "suppose we feed? Iam fearfully hungry; the sun is rising, and we have not yet quitted thatfrightful labyrinth in which we so nearly left our bones."
The hunters set down round the fire, and began sharply attacking themeal that awaited them. When they had finished eating, which did nottake long, thanks to Valentine, who continually urged them to takedouble mouthfuls, they rose and prepared to start again.
"Let us pay great attention, caballeros," the hunter said to them, "andcarefully look around us, for I am greatly mistaken if we do not find atrail within an hour."
"What makes you suppose so?"
"Nothing, I have found no sign," Valentine answered, with a smile; "butI feel a foreboding that we shall soon find the man we have been seekingso long."
"May heaven hear you, my friend! Don Miguel exclaimed.
"Forward! Forward!" Valentine said, as he set out.
His comrades followed him. At this moment the sun appeared above thehorizon, the forest awoke as if by enchantment, and the birds, concealedbeneath the foliage, began their matin hymn, which they sing daily tosalute the sun.
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