14 Up a Tree

Despite the lateness of the season, we liked the valley so well that we lingered there. Its fresh atmosphere and beautiful scenery charmed us and furnished solace for all our trials. The lateness of the season bade us to be up and going, for the leaves of the trees were taking on already the red and brown tinges of autumn, but we found life there too pleasant to seek the bare plains again, just yet.

Starboard Sam took a huge delight in the lake, and under Pike’s skillful instruction he soon made a bark canoe which, although a trifle shaky, could carry two people at once in a fair degree of comfort and safety.

He and Henry usually monopolized the canoe, and as they brought us ample supplies of toothsome fish every day nobody found fault with them for it.

While all of us enjoyed ourselves, I think Henry was in reality the happiest of the party. The life we were leading was calculated to appeal most forcibly to a boy of his romantic temperament. He used often to say we were just like so many Robinson Crusoes, and I think we were.

Bonneau and I took the canoe one day and paddled up the lake, intending to seek an elk, for the animals had become wilder since human beings had arrived in the valley and rifle shots had been heard. The sun was bright and the air which had the breath of autumn in it was cool but pleasant. Being in no hurry, we lolled along in the boat, Bonneau doing the paddling.

At last we decided to land at a spot at least seven or eight miles from where our little camp lay. We beached the boat and plunged into the forest.

Bonneau, noticing Pike’s skill, had a great idea that he, too, could trail game. So he said to me:

“I tell you what, Monsieur Fielding, I will watch ze ground for ze tracks of ze game, and when I see where ze elk have passed I will tell you. Zen we track ze animals down and shoot zem.”

In pursuance of this plan Bonneau began to scurry about and examine the earth with an appearance of great eagerness. He scrutinized every foot of ground, looking for “ze track.” I had much less confidence in Bonneau’s powers as a scout or trailer than I had in his skill as a cook. Accordingly I began a search on my own account for game. Both being engrossed in our work, we wandered apart.

I heard a rapid footstep behind me presently, and turning around, saw Bonneau, his face very much flushed and his eyes blazing with excitement, rushing up to me.

“Ah, Monsieur Fielding,” he exclaimed, eagerly. “I am ze great scout, I have found ze trail of ze king of ze elk. He must be as large as ze elephant or ze mastodon; came back and I will show you ze footprints!”

I hastened back with Bonneau, and when he came to a little glen he stopped abruptly and pointed to the earth, exclaiming:

“See zere! Zere it ees!”

I looked down and saw a large impression in the earth, but I knew at once that it had never been made by any member of the deer tribe. It was more like that off a bear or a panther, but its great size amazed me.

“See, here ees ze way he goes,” said Bonneau, pointing to more of the tracks which led in a line across the glen and on under the trees. It was easy enough even for two hunters who were as inexperienced as Bonneau and I to follow the trail. We followed it without hesitation, for our curiousity was greatly aroused.

The tracks zigzagged through the undergrowth. Two or three times we saw bushes that bore succulent red berries had been pulled down by some powerful grasp, and all the berries swept off. It was evident that the animal had been taking his time and was lounging along. This encouraged us in our belief that we would overtake him, for the bushes seemed to have been freshly broken.

Bonneau was full of eagerness, and also of pride, because he had discovered the trail, and scuttled about like a cat after a rat. Though the trail veered about, its general direction was through the woods and towards the mountain-side. We followed it across two or three brooks and saw where the animal’s body had crushed down the soft banks. In a short time we were at the base of the mountain. The tracks, which were now quite fresh, led up among the rocks.

“We will have ze beast in a meenute!” exclaimed Bonneau. “He cannot be far.”

He leaped lightly up among some rocks, and then started back with a gasp of horror. A gigantic beast up rose and confronted the Frenchman. Standing on his hind legs he towered above Bonneau. His eyes, of a burnt Sienna color, were streaked with red and were aflame with ferocity. Around his neck all the hair was rubbed away, adding to his uncouth and ferocious aspect. The claws on his uplifted front paws were long, sharp and gleaming.

Bonneau and I were face to face with out first grizzly bear.

I was so startled that the hand which held my gun hung limply by my side. Bonneau seemed paralyzed with surprise and fear, and stood staring at the great brute that towered over him. Old Ephraim returned his stare with interest, and his red-mottled eyes sparkled with anger. Bonneau was the first to recover his power of action. I do not say reason, for he acted upon impulse. He raised his gun and fired point blank at the brute. Then uttering a shout, he threw his empty weapon at the brute, and, turning, fled back into the forest.

The bear, growling fiercely, seized the abandoned gun in his teeth and bit at the barrel. He was bleeding where Bonneau’s bullet had struck him, but did not seem to be much hurt. He snarled and snapped at the gun-barrel for a moment or two. Then he dropped it and lumbered down towards me. I had now recovered my presence of mind, and levelling my rifle, I took good aim at the bear and fired.

To my horror my bullet did not check the brute’s course at all, and, still clinging to my gun, I turned and followed Bonneau. I stuck my hand in my belt for my pistol, but, never thinking of danger, I had left it at the camp.

I crashed on helter skelter through the brush, and behind me came that lumbering beast with astonishing speed. I knew that he was cutting down the distance between us, and in my consternation and terror I fancied I could feel his hot breath upon me. He was perilously near when I dodged nimbly around a tree, and his huge mass hurled past me. He recovered himself quickly and came on again, but I had got a little breathing spell and increased my speed. I found this paid so well that I tried it again with the same success.

Thus we dodged in and out among the trees, for all the world like children playing a game of hide and seek, though the stake of the fugitive was life. I was rapidly becoming tired out when a shrill voice shouted: “Take to zee tree! take to zee tree!”

I faced about and hurled the rifle, which I had still clung to, mechanically, I suppose, at the snout of the bear. He reared up, caught it in his claws and open mouth and, exuding venom, tore at it. Profiting by this diversion, I shinned up a tree with an agility born of mortal terror. Just as I reached the lowest boughs and swung myself up, the bear dropped the rifle, stretched himself to his full height and made a swinging blow at me with his paw. The claws struck the sole of one of my old shoes, and ripped it off as if it were made of so much paper. But I was safe, and I climbed higher and higher until I sat down on a bough and clung to the tree, trembling in every muscle and cold and wet with perspiration.

“Well done, Monsieur Joe—well done!” came Bonneau’s cheering cry, and I looked around, to see my friend snugly ensconced in a tree not fifty feet away from me.

“Ze tree ees ze great zing when you are chased by ze greezly bear,” he said. “I hallo to you sooner to climb ze tree, but perhaps you not hear me.”

The bear was snarling in a great rage and gnawing with his long, powerful teeth at the tree in which I sat. I viewed this new performance with the greatest alarm, for he was making the bark and chips fly at a wonderful rate. With such progress he could cut the tree half through in a few hours. But he was a bear with only a bear’s sense, and after a few minutes of such work he quit and slouched over to the tree which contained Bonneau. He went through the same performance there, then strolled over until he was midway between the two trees, lay down on a soft spot and complacently closed his eyes, with the air of a gentleman taking his afternoon nap.

“Vat shall ve do?” hailed Bonneau, who had been as neglectful as I was, and had brought no pistol. In fact, I doubt whether a pistol bullet would have made any impression on that huge brute.

I had no satisfactory reply to make to Bonneau, and we could do nothing but cling to our trees and contemplate the bear, who lay stretched out in all his strength and hideousness. He appeared to be sound asleep. I even imagined that I could hear him snoring. To see whether he was or not I began to descend the tree. As I reached one of the lower boughs the bear was on his feet and made a dash for the tree. But I scuttled back like a squirrel and stayed there. It was apparent that old Ephraim was not so sleepy as he had seemed to be.

He lay down on the ground again, and thus the afternoon dragged on and the sun sank behind the mountains. We looked, longingly around for a rescuer. We hoped Pike would come, for we knew he would be alarmed when we did not return at nightfall, but we saw no signs of him. We shouted at the top of our voices, but there came no response save from the bear, who clawed at our trees and growled.

I proposed to Bonneau that each of us descend his tree to the lowest boughs, and when the bear made a dash for one the other was to drop from his tree, seize one of the rifles, which lay conveniently near, re-ascend the tree with it and shoot the bear to death at his leisure. But we abandoned the plan as too dangerous. So we had nothing to do but sit and watch the thick-growing darkness. By and by both Bonneau and the bear became invisible. Bonneau and I shouted to each other occasionally in order to hearten ourselves up. An occasional heavy shuffling and blowing showed that the bear was still there.

When the moon came out Bonneau and I could see each other, and we felt better. Bonneau became quite cheerful and affected to make a joke of it. He sang two or three French songs and even told a comic story. But all that could not disguise the gravity of our situation, for the bear seemed to be perfectly comfortable and made no preparations for departure. If the two bullets we fired into him troubled him that trouble was not visible in his behavior.

The time dragged along, and despite our anxiety I began to grow sleepy. Bonneau advised me to tie myself to the tree. I acted on his advice, tore off a stout strip of my coat and knotted it around my waist and the trunk of the tree. Subsequently I took a short nap in safety. Bonneau was a wiry and enduring little fellow, and occasionally his loud halloo rang through the forest with great distinctness, but it did not bring our friends.

Day came after a long and weary night, and disclosed old Ephraim rubbing his nose with his paws as if he were making his morning toilet. Bonneau and I shouted together as loud as we could at intervals of ten or twelve minutes, and about two hours after sunrise we heard a faint halloo.

“Zat ees ze Monsieur Pike, ze great hunter coming to rescue us,” exclaimed Bonneau joyfully. “Now we halloo together louder than ever.”

We strained our lungs in a mighty shout, and again came the distant hello—o—o—o in reply. We waited a little, and we heard the cry again, but nearer. Shout and answer continued thus for a few minutes, and we no longer had any doubt that it was Pike or Sam, or both, coming to help us.

These noises aroused the bear, who shuffled about, pricked up his ears and bared his teeth.

From my perch I saw a figure approaching, and recognized it as Pike, with his rifle on his shoulder.

“Look out, Pike! look out!” I shouted, “we are treed by a grizzly, and he’ll be after you if you come too near.”

“All right,” shouted Pike in reply. “Let him come. I’ll take care of him.”

The grizzly made a dive through the trees for his new enemy, but Pike, slinging his rifle across his back, climbed up a tree like a cat. He secured a good seat among the branches, and when the bear came under the boughs fired into him. The bear did not fall, but gnawed the tree and tore at it in his frenzy. Pike calmly reloaded his rifle and fired again and again into the bear. The vitality of the monster was wonderful. Shot after shot crashed into his body and the streaming blood soaked the fallen leaves, but he wrestled with the tree with scarcely diminished vigor.

“He’s a good un! He’s got good grit!” called Pike, “but I’ll finish him if I have to turn him into a lead mine.”

When fully a dozen bullets had been fired into the bear he fell over, kicked and gasped a little and died. We waited some time to be sure there was no mistake about the matter, and then we descended the trees.

“It was mighty lucky for you two that these trees were handy,” said Pike, “or there wouldn’t have been more than a few scraps of you left. We’ve been huntin’ you all night through the woods. Sam and Henry are off on another trail. When I struck the tracks of that grizzly back yonder I was afraid it was all up with both of you. A grizzly b’ar is a mighty onsartin’ animal for a man that ain’t used to him.”

We could vouch for the truth of Pike’s last statement, and we had no hesitation in saying so. We recovered our rifles and returned to the camp. We were joined there later by Sam and Henry, who were overjoyed at finding us all right.

But we went back afterwards and skinned that bear, taking his hide to the camp as a trophy.

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