Biography of a Grizzly | Page 4

ice-cold water.
He wanted to get back to the mountains again, but still he felt he must
go to where he had left his Mother and brothers. When the afternoon
grew warm, he went limping down the stream through the timber, and
down on the banks of the Graybull till he came to the place where
yesterday they had had the fish-feast; and he eagerly crunched the
heads and remains that he found. But there was an odd and horrid smell
on the wind. It frightened him, and as he went down to where he last
had seen his Mother the smell grew worse. He peeped out cautiously at
the place, and saw there a lot of Coyotes, tearing at something. What it
was he did not know; but he saw no Mother, and the smell that
sickened and terrified him was worse than ever, so he quietly turned
back toward the timber-tangle of the Lower Piney, and nevermore came
back to look for his lost family. He wanted his Mother as much as ever,
but something told him it was no use.
As cold night came down, he missed her more and more again, and he
whimpered as he limped along, a miserable, lonely, little, motherless
Bear--not lost in the mountains, for he had no home to seek, but so sick
and lonely, and with such a pain in his foot, and in his stomach a
craving for the drink that would nevermore be his. That night he found
a hollow log, and crawling in, he tried to dream that his Mother's great,
furry arms were around him, and he snuffled himself to sleep.
[Illustration]

III.
Wahb had always been a gloomy little Bear; and the string of
misfortunes that came on him just as his mind was forming made him
more than ever sullen and morose. It seemed as though every one were
against him. He tried to keep out of sight in the upper woods of the
Piney, seeking his food by day and resting at night in the hollow log.
But one evening he found it occupied by a Porcupine as big as himself
and as bad as a cactus-bush. Wahb could do nothing with him. He had
to give up the log and seek another nest.
[Illustration]

One day he went down on the Graybull flat to dig some roots that his
Mother had taught him were good. But before he had well begun, a
grayish-looking animal came out of a hole in the ground and rushed at
him, hissing and growling. Wahb did not know it was a Badger, but he
saw it was a fierce animal as big as himself. He was sick, and lame too,
so he limped away and never stopped till he was on a ridge in the next
cañon. Here a Coyote saw him, and came bounding after him, calling at
the same time to another to come and join the fun. Wahb was near a
tree, so he scrambled up to the branches. The Coyotes came bounding
and yelping below, but their noses told them that this was a young
Grizzly they had chased, and they soon decided that a young Grizzly in
a tree means a Mother Grizzly not far away, and they had better let him
alone.
[Illustration]
After they had sneaked off Wahb came down and returned to the Piney.
There was better feeding on the Graybull, but every one seemed against
him there now that his loving guardian was gone, while on the Piney he
had peace at least sometimes, and there were plenty of trees that he
could climb when an enemy came.
His broken foot was a long time in healing; indeed, it never got quite
well. The wound healed and the soreness wore off, but it left a stiffness
that gave him a slight limp, and the sole-balls grew together quite
unlike those of the other foot. It particularly annoyed him when he had
to climb a tree or run fast from his enemies; and of them he found no
end, though never once did a friend cross his path. When he lost his
Mother he lost his best and only friend. She would have taught him
much that he had to learn by bitter experience, and would have saved
him from most of the ills that befell him in his cubhood--ills so many
and so dire that but for his native sturdiness he never could have passed
through alive.
The piñons bore plentifully that year, and the winds began to shower
down the ripe, rich nuts. Life was becoming a little easier for Wahb. He
was gaining in health and strength, and the creatures he daily met now
let him alone. But as he feasted on the piñons one morning