Boy Scouts in Glacier Park Part 16

"Well," Mills went on, "by 'n' by along into the clearing come two lions, long, lean, hungry lookin', sneaky beasts they are, too--I hate 'em--and they fell to on the carcase, and began to eat. Thinks I, I'd wait and see what happened, instead of killin' 'em and maybe scarin' off the bear with the shots so's he'd never come back. Sure enough, the old boy came galumphing along presently, and went up on his hind legs when he saw the lions at his festal board, as you might say. Then he dropped down again, and just walked right up, stuck his big shoulders in between the two lions, shovin' 'em apart, and began to eat."

"That's no way to treat a lion," said Lucy.

"No, specially as one of 'em was a lady lion," Mills laughed. "But that's what old Silver Tip did. The lions naturally didn't like it, and one of 'em snarled, and up with his paw and fetched the bear a nasty swipe. Then I expected to see trouble.

"But what do you think the old bear did? He just kind of side-cut with one of his big paws and caught that lion a blow that sent him spinning head over tail twenty feet down the slope. Then he went right on eating.

He didn't look at the other lion, he didn't even look around to see what the first one was goin' to do. 'Peared as if he was quite certain what they'd both do, and they done it. They both took a quick sneak into the woods, and left Mr. Silver Tip to his feast. You couldn't have brushed off a mosquito more calmly. I says to myself then that it showed how sure of himself the grizzly is--he's king of the forest, all right."

"And did you shoot him after that?" Lucy asked.

"Sure I shot him."

"I think you were real horrid," she said.

"Maybe," Mills answered. "But I'm still wearin' his skin in winter."

"How many shots did it take?" asked one of the congressmen. "I've always heard you have to pump a grizzly full of lead, and then use a knife to defend yourself, after your last sh.e.l.l is emptied."

"The feller that told you that was a b.u.m shot," said the Ranger.

"'Course there are a lot of b.u.m shots come out here huntin'. One bullet, in the brain, the upper part of the heart, or the right place in the spine, will drop a silver tip like a sack o' grain. You've got to know where to hit, and you've got to hit there, naturally. Trouble is, green hunters get scared or rattled, and don't aim right, and half the time when they think they're plugging the bear they're really peppering the rocks behind him. I wouldn't want to hunt 'em myself with a single shot rifle, but I could if I had to. A city chap in one of our parties once, over in the Blackfeet forest, smashed all four of a bear's legs with bullets, and then the bear, tryin' to get away, fell into a stream and drowned to death. Our cook asked the feller why he didn't chuck him in to start with, and save sh.e.l.ls."

"When you going to show us a bear?" Bob demanded.

"Mercy, I do hope it isn't very soon!" cried Bob's mother. "I'm sure _I_ don't want to meet one. I don't suppose there are any in the Park any more."

"Oh, yes, more 'n ever," said the Ranger, managing a secret wink to Joe.

"Why, there was two women from Boston once, sitting in broad day on the steep cut bank of a stream, and they heard cras.h.i.+ngs in the bush, and looked back and seen a big grizzly coming right toward 'em, and they yelled like Comanches and fell right down the bank into the water, and waded across up to their necks and beat it back to camp."

"Better stick close to brave little Bobbie, ma," laughed her son. "I won't let the naughty big bear bite you. But when are you going to show me one, Mr. Mills?"

"Day after to-morrow," said the Ranger.

Joe p.r.i.c.ked up his ears. It sounded as if Mills meant it.

"Is that a threat or a promise?" Lucy asked.

"Promise for Bob, a threat for Mrs. Jones, I guess," said the Ranger, rising from the ground, and adding, "Who's ready for bed?"

"Better ask who isn't," somebody laughed.

Joe went as far out on the rocky spit into the lake as he could get; he could see the dying camp-fire gleaming red back under the trees; and all around him, over the dim, starlit water, rose the majestic mountains, great walls of shadow rearing up half-way to the top of the sky. It was a still, solemn scene, and he felt very small as he crouched by the lake and cleaned his teeth in water that was almost as cold as ice.

When he got back to camp every one was abed, and he crawled into the tent with Mills and wrapped himself up in his blankets, with only his poncho for a mattress, and almost before he had got his body fitted into the unevennesses of the ground he was fast asleep.

CHAPTER XI--To Gunsight Lake, and Joe Falls Into a Creva.s.se on Blackfeet Glacier

The Ranger was the first up in the morning. He gave Joe a shake by the shoulder, and Joe half opened one sleepy eye and said, "Aw, ma, it ain't time to get up yet."

Then he heard Mills chuckle, and he realized where he was. He looked at his watch, and saw that it was almost six. Outside, it was broad daylight, and the sun was flooding up the lake.

Joe sat up and threw back the blankets. "Golly, I'm sore and stiff," he said, rubbing himself. "Been sleeping on a cot, and I'm soft, I guess."

"You also did twenty-two miles yesterday," Mills remarked. "Well, I haven't told 'em yet, but we're going to do only seven to-day, and then have a side trip for the young folks. Guess Mother Jones will want to stay in camp and help you get supper."

"She'd better try!" cried Joe, springing up at the word "supper," for it reminded him that it was his job to get breakfast. He had a quick wash in the brook which ran past the camp, and set about making some biscuit, bacon and eggs, coffee and flapjacks. His fire was going merrily, and in its heat he had begun to get warm (for the night chill was still in the air, and you could almost see your breath), when he saw Congressman Elkins poking a sleepy face out of the men's tent flap, with his hair all tousled, and his body bent half double. He spied the fire, and made a hobble for it.

"Say, Joe, let me get some of that heat, will you?" he said.

"Sure," Joe laughed. "Didn't you have blankets enough?"

"I had five--ought to be enough, in the third week of July, you'd think.

But I s.h.i.+vered all night, and every time I s.h.i.+vered a new branch in our wonderful bough bed found a fresh spot on my anatomy to puncture. I'm beginning to think Mrs. Jones is right about this roughing it stuff."

"No, sir, she isn't," Joe answered, as he set his batter of biscuit over the fire. "Only you have to learn how to do it, and get hardened to it a bit, too. How'd you have the blankets?"

"How'd I have 'em? Over me, of course."

"That's the trouble," said Joe. "The secret of sleeping warm is to have 'em _under_ you, too. That's where as much cold comes as from above, even in a bed. You roll yourself up in 'em to-night and see if you're not warm."

"Where'd you learn all this?" the congressman asked. "You look pretty young to be a camp cook. Live around here?"

"Oh, no, sir, I live in Ma.s.sachusetts. I learned how to camp as a Boy Scout. My chum--another scout--and I came out here this summer, because I was--I wasn't very well. He's got a job at Many Glacier tepee camp, and I'm getting so well now Mr. Mills got me to go as cook, 'cause I'd made coffee and things for him and he knew I could cook."

"I suppose you learned cooking as a scout, too, eh?"

"Yes, sir," Joe answered, pouring out the ground coffee into the pot. "I worked to get a merit badge in cooking. You see, I could help mother with it, too, when she was sick, or anything."

"Well, I'm beginning to have a better opinion of the Boy Scouts every minute," the man laughed, sniffing the food and warming his hands by the blaze. "I thought it was just a kind of fad."

"Oh, no, sir!" Joe cried. "Why, all our little scouts, after a year, are lots better boys, and everybody says it's been a fine thing for the town!"

"Here, daddy, you stop bribing the cook to give you breakfast in advance!" a laughing voice interrupted them. Joe turned, and saw Lucy Elkins coming from her tent. Her hair was down her back, in brown waves, so that she looked almost like a little girl, and she was smiling and bright and gay as the morning sun.

"I suppose _you_ slept well," her father said, "weren't cold and no pine boughs in your ribs."

"I don't know," she answered. "I slept so hard I can't tell whether I was cold or not. But I know I'm hungry. Why don't you wake everybody up, Joe, and let's get to business."

She went off up the brook with her tooth-brush and towel, and the Ranger, taking a pan, beat reveille on it with two sticks. Other sleepy heads emerged, Mrs. Jones last of all, looking very cross and s.h.i.+very.

By the time they had all got fully dressed and washed, and the girls had braided their hair (letting the braids hang down their backs), the two guides appeared. They had spent the night just down the lake at the Sun Camp chalets, with other guides, friends of theirs.

Joe set his eggs to cooking last of all, got the dishes ready, poured the coffee, and then gave the now familiar yell,

"Come and get it!"

That is a call in Glacier Park no one has to hear a second time. Even Mrs. Jones perked up, and stopped complaining about how cold she was, and how she hated to clean her teeth in ice water, and how she missed her morning bath, and silenced her own tongue with a bite of bacon that was more nouris.h.i.+ng than ladylike in size. The breakfast disappeared in double quick time, and Val went up the hill for the horses, while Mills and d.i.c.k began to strike the tents and arrange the packs, and Joe cleaned his dishes and packed his provisions.