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  CHAPTER FIVE.

  MY ENCOUNTER WITH A GRIZZLY, BY ARTHUR J DANIELS.

  The winter had set in early, and with unusual severity, when I reachedLogville, the appropriate name given to the little mining camp which hiditself away in the vast wilderness of the Rocky Mountains. A rovingdisposition, combined with a love of sport, and a desire to put oncanvas some record of the wonderful scenery of the locality, had guidedmy steps to this out-of-the-world spot.

  One morning when the winter was beginning to break, and the snow to showsigns of disappearing--sure evidence that the severe weather was passingaway--I slung my cloak and a bag of provisions across my shoulders,seized my rifle, and set forth on a solitary stroll. I had gone someconsiderable distance from the camp when a sudden darkening of the skytold me only too plainly of an approaching storm. Fearful of beingcaught in the downpour, I began to retrace my steps.

  Scarcely had I commenced my homeward journey when a sudden cry caused meto come to an abrupt standstill. A few moments of intense stillnessfollowed. I listened attentively, surveying the surrounding landscapeon all sides with the close scrutiny of an experienced hunter, who hadenjoyed many a lesson from the Indians. The piled-up rocks, scantyherbage, leafless and motionless trees gave no sign of life. No soundbroke the intense solitude. Then, with startling suddenness, anothercry, louder and more agonising than the former, echoed across the waste,and this was followed by a deep significant growl.

  I knew at once that the voice was that of a human being, and I knewequally well that the growl proceeded from a bear. I had heard that abig "grizzly" had been seen in the neighbourhood, and that a party hadbeen organised to track him to his lair, but had failed to come to closequarters with the wily old fellow.

  As these thoughts shaped themselves in my mind there came a shrill andpiercing shriek which set every nerve in my body tingling. It was thescream of a woman in mortal terror.

  I shouldered, my rifle and turned in the direction from which the soundsproceeded.

  Descending a steep cliff, I found myself in a narrow canon through whicha mountain stream, swollen by the melting snow, rushed with considerablerapidity. The first object that caught my eye was a woman carrying achild and struggling through the foaming torrent. Then I observed, somelittle distance to the rear, but following with incredible rapidity, anenormous black bear. He measured at least nine feet from his nose tothe tip of his tail, and was broad in proportion. Though of enormoussize, he progressed at a speed which was surprising. Something hadevidently irritated the brute considerably, for his whole appearance wascharacteristic of unrestrained ferocity.

  I dragged the panting fugitive from the water and, without asking anyquestions, advanced to the bank of the stream and prepared to take aim.Whether my gentleman had at some period of his life been so closelyassociated with the barrel of a sporting-rifle that he understood thesignificance of my movement, I know not; but certain it is that as soonas I raised the weapon, the bear first of all reared himself on his hindquarters, displaying his long narrow muzzle adorned with an assortmentof ugly fangs, and then uttering a loud noise, curiously resembling theheavy breathing of a human being, he fell down on all-fours andretreated behind a convenient boulder, over the top of which his littleeyes gleamed fiercely every now and again.

  The woman, who proved to be the wife of the innkeeper at whose "hotel" Iwas sojourning, was shivering with the cold, and her wet garments wererapidly congealing in the keen frosty air. Her little girl was cryingpitifully with the cold and fright.

  It was a question whether I should remain and finish off Bruin or hurrymy companions homeward at a fast trot. I decided to adopt the lattercourse.

  "The bear can wait," I said, as I turned away; "I'll settle him anotherday."

  We turned our steps in the direction of the camp, and for some distancewalked in silence. Then of a sudden a plaintive moan from the childreminded me that the wee mite and her mother, soaked with wet, were, inthe cutting air, rapidly assuming the condition of living icicles.Fortunately I had a flask with me, and, telling the exhausted andshivering woman to sit down, I rested my rifle against a stump of a treeand proceeded to prepare a dose of brandy, at the same time cheering herwith words of encouragement.

  "We are not far from home now," I said, "and--"

  I did not finish the sentence, for a movement behind caused me to turnround. To my utter astonishment and horror I found myself face to facewith my old friend, or rather enemy. He had evidently followed withstealthy steps, the snow acting as a carpet to deaden his heavyfootsteps.

  My first idea was to give the intruder a dose of cold lead, but that Isoon discovered was out of the question, for the bear had calmlyappropriated my rifle, which lay beneath his paws.

  It seemed to me indeed that his ugly face bore a look of triumph as hecrouched over the weapon, and, judging from the blinking of his eyes, heseemed humanly conscious that, having become possessed of my trusty anddeadly friend, he had me completely in his power. To obtain possessionof the weapon was out of the question; it would have been fatal toattempt it.

  Motioning the woman to seize the child and hurry forward without me, Iprepared to rout the enemy by some means other than powder and shot.What means I intended to adopt I frankly admit I had not the remotestidea. The incident, so unexpected, so strange, took me completely bysurprise, and it was some moments before I recovered my senses andpresence of mind. Then I remembered that grizzlies, despite their hugebulk and ferocious tempers, are curiously alarmed by noise.

  I had even heard that they had been driven off, with their tails betweentheir legs, by the mere beating of a tin can. With this idea in my mindI hastily produced the metal cup of my flask, and striking it furiouslywith the hilt of my hunting-knife, I continued to produce a din whichought to have taken effect upon my four-footed adversary. I am sorry tosay it did not, however. Uttering the curious sound peculiar togrizzlies, the brute made as though it would approach still closer.

  The bear was somewhat lean after his long winter's sleep in some holescooped out of the earth, whither he had retired with a substantialcoating of fat upon him, as a protection against the chills of winter.

  The nap had gradually reduced the thickness of this protection and nowthe hungry animal, weary of search for berries and roots, contemplatedme with a look which seemed to express that a morsel of something moresubstantial would not be out of place.

  I commenced to retire cautiously, but I had not taken many steps whenthere came a flash, followed by a sudden report, and I staggered andfell on my knees--shot in the leg.

  The bear had accidentally pulled the trigger of my gun, and the bulletintended for him had found instead a billet in poor me. I tried tostaunch the wound with my handkerchief, but the blood flowed freely, andI soon began to feel exhausted.

  I felt my knees quivering and giving way beneath me, and a deadlyfaintness crept over me. A mist came over my eyes, and I seemed to sinkinto a deep sleep, the landscape slowly vanishing, and even the big bearstanding up before me disappearing in the darkness which envelopedeverything.

  The rescuing party sent in search discovered me, still breathing, thethick snow into which I had fallen having congealed over my wound andstopped the flow of blood.

  The bear had fled without touching me, the report of the rifle havingapparently proved too much for his nerves. He did not live long,however, for the following day he was tracked to his underground home,and there despatched. His skin is among my most cherished trophies, andI never look at it without remembering my first and last encounter witha grizzly.