Adventures in Many Lands | Page 7

I can
hardly say that I gazed on them with the amount of enthusiasm that
Halley professed to feel.
But bear was not in our contract, and we hurried on another half-mile
or so, for already we were late if we meant to get the deer as they came

to drink; and presently, on coming to a likely spot, where the cañon
forked, Halley said, "This looks good enough. I'll stop here and send
the boy back; you can go up the fork about half a mile and try there."
And on I went, at last squatting down to wait behind a clump of
manzanita scrub, close to a small pool where the creek widened.
It was as gloomy and impressive a spot as one could find anywhere out
of a picture by Doré. The sombre pines crowded in on the little stream,
elbowing and whispering, leaving overhead but a gap of clear sky; on
either hand the rugged sides of the cañon sloped steeply up amongst the
timber and thick undergrowth, and never the note of a bird broke a
silence which seemed only to be emphasised by the faint sough of the
wind in the tree tops. Minute dragged into minute, yet no deer came
stealing down to drink, and rapidly the stillness and heart-chilling
gloom were getting on my nerves; when, far up the steep side of the
cañon opposite to me there came a faint sound, and a small stone
trickled hurriedly down into the water.
"At last!" I thought. "At last!" And with a thumping heart and eager eye
I crouched forward, ready to fire, yet feeling somewhat of a sneak and a
coward at the thought that the poor beast had no chance of escape.
Lower and nearer came the sound of the something still to me invisible,
but the sound, slight though it was, gave, somehow, the impression of
bulk, and the strange, subdued, half-grunting snuffle was puzzling to
senses on the alert for deer. Lower and nearer, and then--out into the
open by the shallow water he strolled--no deer, but a great grizzly.
My first instinct was to fire and "chance it," but then in stepped
discretion (funk, if you will), and I remembered that at fifteen or twenty
yards buckshot would serve no end but to wound and rouse to fury such
an animal as a grizzly, who, perhaps of all wild beasts, is the most
tenacious of life; and I remembered, too, tales told by Californians of
death, or ghastly wounds, inflicted by grizzlies.
My finger left the trigger, and I sat down--discreetly, and with no
unnecessary noise. He was not in a hurry, but rooted about sedately
amongst the undergrowth, now and again throwing up his muzzle and

sniffing the air in a way that made me not unthankful that the faint
breeze blew from him to me, and not in the contrary direction.
In due time--an age it seemed--after a false start or two, he went off up
stream, and I, wisely concluding that this particular spot was, for the
present, an unlikely one for deer, followed his example, and rejoined
Halley, who was patiently waiting where we had parted.
"I've just seen a grizzly, Halley," I said.
"Have you?" he almost yelled in his excitement. "Come on! We'll get
him."
"I don't think I want any more of him," said I, with becoming modesty.
"I'm going to see if I can't stalk a deer amongst the hills. They're more
in my line, I think."
Halley looked at me--pity, a rather galling pity, in his eye--and, turning,
went off alone after the bear, muttering to himself, whilst I kept on my
course downstream, over the boulders, certain in my own mind that no
more would be seen of that bear, and keeping a sharp look-out on the
surrounding country in case any deer should show themselves.
I had gone barely half a mile when, on the spur of a hill, a long way off,
I spotted a couple of deer browsing on the short grass, and I was on the
point of starting what would have been a long and difficult, but very
pretty, stalk when I heard a noise behind me.
Looking back, I saw Halley flying from boulder to boulder, travelling
as if to "make time" were the one and only object of his life--running
after a fashion that a man does but seldom.
I waited till he was close to me, till his wild eyes and gasping mouth
bred in me some of his panic, and then, after a hurried glance up the
creek, I, too, turned and fled for my life.
For there, lumbering and rolling heavily along, came the bear, gaining
at every stride, though evidently sorely hurt in one shoulder. But my

flight ended almost