The Trapper's Daughter Part 48

"Cristo, if I value it!" the other muttered, with a movement of terror; "But what is happening fresh?"

Red Cedar cautiously moved a ma.s.s of leaves, and made a sign to his comrades to imitate him.

"Look," he said.

In a second the monk drew himself back with features convulsed with terror.

"Oh," he said, "this time we are lost!"

He tottered, and would have fallen, had not the squatter seized him by the arm.

"What is to be done?" he said.

"Wait," Red Cedar coldly answered: "our position for the present is not so desperate; you see them, but they do not see us."

Fray Ambrosio shook his head sadly,

"You have led us to our ruin," he said, reproachfully.

"You are an a.s.s," Red Cedar answered with contempt; "do I not risk as much as you? Did I not warn you that we were surrounded? Leave me to act, I tell you."

CHAPTER XXVIII.

THE FIGHT WITH THE GRIZZLY.

The New World has no reason to envy the Old in the matter of ferocious animals of every description and every species. The family of the plantigrades has obtained an enormous development in America, and possesses races of a ferocity before which all the wild beasts of our continent turn pale.

We will speak here of the animal endowed with a prodigious strength, blind courage, and unbounded cruelty, which the learned call _ursus cinereus_, and the Americans the grizzly bear. Most travellers draw a terrific feature of this animal, saying that it combines with the stupidity of the Polar bear the ferocity and courage of the great carnivora. Though a traveller myself, I am forced humbly to confess that the stories of these gentry must be accepted with some reserve, who, often placed in perilous situations, or ill-disposed mentally and bodily, have seen badly, and, in spite of themselves, yielding to the influence of the moment, have unconsciously indulged in exaggerations, which have gradually become articles of faith, and are now accepted as such.

I have no intention to rehabilitate the grizzly bear in the minds of my readers; still, I will ask them not to be more unjust to it than they are to other animals sent into the world by the Creator. Hence, laying aside all exaggerations, and confining ourselves to the strictest truth, we will, in a few words, describe the grizzly bear and its habits.

During our long stay in America, we saw enough of these animals, and in sufficient proximity to be accepted as a credible witness.

My readers will see from the portrait of this animal, correct, if not flattering though it be, that it is naturally ugly enough, both morally and physically, not to require to be rendered more hideous and converted into a monster. The grizzly, when it has reached its full growth, is about ten feet in length; its coat is woolly, very thick, and perfectly grey, excepting round the ears, where it is brown. Its face is terrible; it is the most ferocious and dangerous of all the American carnivora. In spite of its clumsy shape and heavy appearance, its agility is extreme.

It is the more to be feared, because its indomitable courage emanates from the consciousness of its prodigious strength, and is always akin to fury. The grizzly attacks all animals, but chiefly the larger ruminants, such as buffaloes, oxen, &c. What has probably given rise to the exaggerated stories of travellers, is the fact that the grizzly bear does not hibernate, and as during winter it starves among the snow-covered mountains, it descends to the plains to find food. The redskins carry on a deadly warfare with it, in order to obtain its long sharp claws, of which they form collars, to which they set great value.

It was with one of these formidable animals that Valentine suddenly found himself face to face. The rencontre was most disagreeable; still when the first emotion had pa.s.sed off, the hunters boldly made up their minds.

"It is a combat to death," Valentine said laconically; "you know the grizzly never draws back."

"What shall we do?" Don Miguel asked.

"See what he does first," the hunter continued. "It is evident that this animal has fed, else it would not return to its lair. You know that bears go out but little; if we are lucky enough to deal with a bear that has had a good dinner, it will be an immense advantage for us."

"Why so?"

"For the simple reason," Valentine said with a laugh, "that, like all people whose meal hours are irregular, when bears sit down to dinner, they eat with extreme gluttony, which renders them heavy, sleepy, and deprives them, in a word, of one half their faculties."

"Hum!" Don Miguel observed; "I fancy what is left them is quite enough."

"And so do I; but, quiet, I fancy the beast has made up his mind."

"That is to say," Don Pablo remarked, "that it is making its arrangements to attack us."

"That is what I meant to say," Valentine replied.

"Well, we will not let it make the first demonstration."

"Oh, don't be frightened, Don Miguel, I am used to bear hunting; this one certainly does not expect what I am preparing for it."

"Providing you do not miss your shot: in that case we should be lost,"

Don Miguel observed.

"By Jove! I know that: so I shall take my measures in accordance."

Curumilla, stoical as ever, had cut a piece of candlewood, and concealed himself in the shrubs only a few paces from the wild beast. The bear, after a moment's hesitation, during which it looked round with an eye flas.h.i.+ng with gloomy fire, as if counting the number of foes it had to fight, uttered a second growl, as it pa.s.sed a tongue as red as blood over its lips.

"That is it," Valentine said with a laugh; "lick your chops, my fine fellow; still, I warn you that your mouth is watering too soon--you have not got us yet."

The bear seemed to notice the bravado, for it made an effort, and its monstrous head entirely appeared above the level of the platform.

"Did I not tell you it had eaten too much?" the hunter went on. "See what difficulty it finds in moving. Come, sluggard," he said, addressing the terrible animal, "shake yourself up a little."

"Take care," Don Miguel shouted.

"The brute is going to leap on you," Don Pablo said in agony.

In fact, the bear, by a movement swift as lightning, had escaladed the platform with a gigantic bound, and was now scarce twenty yards from the intrepid hunter. Valentine did not move, not one of his muscles shook: he merely clenched his teeth as if going to break them, and a white foam appeared at the corner of his lips. The beast, surprised by the intrepidity of the man, cowed by the electric fluid that flashed from the hunter's haughty eye, fell back a step. For a moment it remained motionless, with hanging head; but it soon began tearing up the ground with its formidable claws, as if encouraging itself to begin the attack.

Suddenly it turned round. Curumilla profited by the movement, of the torch he held in readiness for the purpose, and at a signal from Valentine, made the light flash before the bear. The animal, dazzled by the brilliant glare of the torch, which suddenly dissipated the darkness that surrounded it, savagely rose on its hind legs, and turning toward the Indian, tried to clutch the torch with one of its forepaws, probably in order to put it out.

Valentine c.o.c.ked his rifle, stood firmly on his legs, aimed carefully, and began whistling softly. So soon as the sound reached the bear's ears, it stopped, and remained thus for some seconds as if trying to account for this unusual noise. The hunter still whistled: the witnesses of the scene held their breath, so interested were they in the strange incidents of this duel between intellect and brute strength. Still they kept their hands on their weapons, ready to hurry to their friend's help, should he be in danger.

Valentine was calm, gently whistling to the bear, which gradually turned its head toward him. Curumilla, with the lighted torch in his hand, attentively watched all the animal's movements. The bear at length faced the hunter; it was only a few paces from him, and Valentine felt its hot and fetid breath. The man and the brute gazed on each other; the bear's bloodshot eye seemed riveted on that of the Frenchman, who looked at it intrepidly while continuing to whistle softly.

There was a moment, an age of supreme anxiety. The bear, as if to escape the strange fascination it suffered under, shook its head twice, and then rushed forward with a fearful growl. At the same instant a shot was fired.

Don Miguel and his son ran up. Valentine, with his rifle b.u.t.t resting on the ground, was laughing carelessly, while two paces from him the terrible animal was uttering howls of fury, and writhing in its dying convulsions. Curumilla bending forward, was curiously watching the movements of the animal as it rolled at his feet.

"Thank Heaven," Don Miguel eagerly exclaimed. "You are safe, my friend."

"Did you fancy that I ran any danger?" the hunter answered simply.

"I trembled for your life," the hacendero said with surprise and admiration.

"It was not worth the trouble, I a.s.sure you," the hunter said carelessly; "grizzly and I are old acquaintances; ask Curumilla how many we have knocked over in this way."