The Cave of Gold | Page 6

until the swaying body presented a fatal spot to his aim, pulled the trigger, and leaped backward from the bear.
It was fortunate for Thure that he made that backward jump; for, at the crack of his rifle, El Feroz made such a tremendous lunge toward him, that the creaking limb bent nearly double, and, with a sound like the report of a gun, broke off close to the trunk and crashed to the ground on top of the grizzly.
For a moment El Feroz lay stunned by his wounds and fall and the crash of the heavy limb; and then, with a roar, he struggled to his feet, just as Bud jerked Gray Cloud to a halt not a rod away, and, instantly throwing his rifle to his shoulder, fired. Even then the ferocious beast plunged desperately toward his new enemy, staggering blindly, and fell dead on the exact spot where Thure had stood.
"Jumping buffaloes, but that was a narrow escape for you, Thure!" and, throwing himself out of his saddle, Bud rushed up to where Thure stood, white and trembling, now that the danger was over, not ten feet from where the bear lay dead.
"But, we've got him! Got El Feroz himself!" and the blood surged back to Thure's face. "The biggest grizzly in all California! Say, but won't the Mexicans and the Indians think we are great hunters now? And won't Ruth and Iola stare, when we throw down the hide of El Feroz in front of them to-night?"
No wonder Thure felt a little vainglorious over their achievement; for there was not a hunter in all that country who would not have considered the killing of El Feroz the crowning exploit of his life, so great had become the monster grizzly's reputation for savage ferocity and fearlessness of man.
"Well, I reckon we won't do any more hunting to-day," Bud declared, as he began swiftly reloading his rifle. In that country at that time no experienced hunter ever allowed his rifle to remain unloaded a moment longer than was necessary. "When we get the hide off that monster, it will be time to be starting for home," and his eyes turned to the dead grizzly. "Whew, but isn't he a whopper! I'll bet that he will weigh nearly a ton! You are right, the girls will be surprised some, when we throw down that hide in front of them," and his face flushed a little at the thought of the glory that would soon be theirs. "But, come, now that our guns are loaded, let's get busy with our knives and get this big hide off," and, pulling out his hunting-knife from its sheath, he bent over the huge carcass of El Feroz.
"I'll be with you as soon as I free Buck," and Thure, slipping the noose of his reata off the hind leg of the dead grizzly and coiling it around his arm, hastened to where his gallant little horse still stood; and, after fastening the rope in its place on the pommel of the saddle, he hurried back to where Bud was bending over the grizzly.
There was no need of tying their horses. All the rope required to hold them fast was the rope of love they bore their young masters, and so the two animals were left free, while the two boys busied themselves getting the pelt off the bear.
The skinning of a grizzly bear, especially when the bear is as huge and as tough as was El Feroz, is no light undertaking; but Thure and Bud were no novices at this kind of labor, and, after half an hour's hard work, the great pelt was off and stretched out on the ground, skin side up.
"There, I am glad that job is done!" Thure exclaimed, with satisfaction, as he wiped his bloody knife on the grass. "Say, but he sure was a whopper!" and his eyes glanced exultantly over the great hide, now looking larger than ever as it lay spread out on the grass. "Great Moses, look at all those old bullet marks!--Fifteen of them! No wonder that Mexican Juan thought El Feroz was protected by the devil!--Hello, what is the matter now?" and Thure jumped up quickly from the hide, over which he had been bending counting El Feroz's old bullet wounds, at a sudden exclamation of alarm from Bud.
"There! There! Look there!" Bud was pointing excitedly up the valley.
"Mother of men, they are murdering him!" "Come on!" and Thure, grabbing up his rifle, made a jump for his horse, followed by Bud.
Three-quarters of a mile up the valley from where our young friends had slain the big grizzly, a spur of rocks projected down into the valley, reaching like a long finger almost to the fringe of trees along the creek; and around this