CHAPTER IV
Big Pete and I spent several weeks in our charming little camp at thelower end of the park, for my guide decided that despite the recentpresence of the wild hunter, here would be a good place to get a shot atsome black-tail deer. In fact we saw signs of those animals all aboutand my guide was only looking for fresh indication to start out on ourlast hunt before we made our way deeper into the wilderness.
On the third day of our stay I was returning to camp with my shotgunover my shoulder and a brace of sage grouse in my hand, when I came uponBig Pete in a swail about a mile from camp. He was bending low andexamining fresh signs when he saw me.
"Howdy, kid, here's some doin's. Shall we foller him?"
"Of course, Pete; what are we here for, the mountain air?" I answered.
"No," answered Pete, in his deep, low voice, "we're here for game," andoff he started, but slowly and with great caution. I felt impatient, butrestrained myself, saying nothing and continued to follow my big guidewho now moved with the most painstaking care. Not a twig broke beneathhis moccasins as with panther-like step and crouching form he led methrough a lot of young trees over a rocky place until we struck a smallspring with a soft muddy margin. Here Pete came to a sudden halt. Iasked him why he did not go on, and he pointed to a ledge of rock thatran up the mountain side diagonally with a flat, natural roadbed on top,graded like a stage road but unlike a traveled road, ending in a bunchof underwood and brush about a hundred yards ahead.
Above the ledge of the rocks was a steep declivity of loose shalesprinkled over with large and small boulders of radically differentformations, and in no manner resembling the friable, uncertain bed uponwhich they rested.
These boulders undoubtedly showed the result of the grinding andpolishing of an ancient, slow-moving glacier, but some other force haddeposited them in the present position.
"He's in tha'," whispered Pete.
"Who, the wild mountain man?" I asked.
"No," answered my guide, "th' grizzly."
"The what?" I almost shouted.
"Th' grizzly," answered Pete; "what do you think we've been following?"
"Black-tailed deer," I said softly, with my eyes glued on the thicket.
"Well, tenderfoot, here's the trail of that tha' _deer_, and he hain'tbeen gone by here mor'n nor a week ago, nuther."
I looked and there in the soft mud was the print of a foot, ahuman-looking foot, but for the evenness in the length of the toes andthe sharpness and length of the toe nails. Yes, there was anotherdifference, and that was the size. It was the footprint of a savageHercules, the track of an enormous grizzly bear, and the soft mud thathad dripped from the big foot was still undried on the leaves and grasswhen Pete pointed it out to me.
"Well, Pete, don't forget your promise that I am to have first shot atall big game," I whispered with my best effort at coolness, but my heartwas thumping against my ribs at a terrific rate.
"But--why, bless you old man!" I whispered excitedly as I looked at mygun, "I am armed only with a shotgun."
"Tha's all right," replied the big trapper complacently; then, with aquick motion, he whipped out his keen-edged knife and snatching one ofmy cartridges he severed the shell neatly between the two wads whichseparated the powder and shot; that is, a wad in each piece of thecartridge was exposed by the cut.
Guided by the faint longitudinal seam where the edges of the coloredpaper join on the shell, Big Pete carefully fitted the two parts of thecartridge together exactly as they were before being cut apart. Breakingmy gun, he slipped the mutilated ammunition into the unchoked barrel.
"Tha'," he grunted, "tha's better than a bullet at short range, an'lltar a hole in old Ephraim big enough to put your arm through."
He cut two more in the same manner, saying, "Be darned kerful not to getexcited and put them in your choke barl, or tha' may be trouble."
Hunting a grizzly with a shotgun and bird shot was not my idea of safesport, but I was too much of a moral coward to acknowledge to Pete thatI was frightened. Pete examined his gun, ran his finger over thecartridges in his belt, and went through all the familiar motions whichto him were unconscious but always foretold danger ahead.
"You drap on your prayer hinges behind that tha' nigger head," saidPete, "and you will have a dead shot at the brute, an' I'll go up androll a stone down the mountain side and follow it as fast as I kin, soas to be ready to help you if you need it; but you ought to drap him atfirst shot at short range. Yer must drap him, yer must or I allow tha'llbe a right smart of a scrap here, and don't yer forget it!"
"This is no Christmas turkey shooting, young feller, so look sharp," andwith a noiseless tread Pete vanished in the wood, while I with beatingheart and bulging eyes watched the thicket at the end of the ledge. Ihad not long to wait before I heard a blood-curdling yell and thencrash! crash! crash! came a big boulder tearing down the mountain side.It reached a point just over the thicket, struck a small pine tree,broke the tree and leaped high into the air, then crashed into themiddle of the brush.
Following with giant leaps came Big Pete Darlinkel down the rockydeclivity, but I only looked that way for one instant, then my eyes wereagain fixed on the thicket, and in my excitement I arose to a standingposition. There was but a momentary silence after the fall of theboulder before I heard the rustling of sticks and leaves, saw the top ofthe bushes sway as some heavy body moved beneath, then there appeared ahead, and what a head it was! Bigger than all outdoors! I aimed my gun,but my body swayed and the end of my shotgun described a large circle inthe air. I knew that my position was serious, but my nerves played mefalse.
I had never before faced a grizzly. I heard Big Pete's voice calling tome to drop behind the rock, but I only stood there with a doggedstupidity, trying to aim my gun at a mark which seemed to me as bigalmost as a barn-door.
I heard Pete give a sudden cry then there was a rattle of stones anddirt on the ledge in front of the mountain of brownish hair that wasadvancing in sort of side leaps or bounds like a big ball.
The bear came to a sudden stop, and to my horror I saw the form of myfriend shoot over the edge of the overhanging rock right in the path ofthe grizzly. It all flashed through my mind in a moment. Pete in hishaste to reach me had lost control of himself and slid with the rollingstones and dirt over the mountain side, a fall of at least twenty-fivefeet!
Instantly my nerve returned and I rushed madly up the incline to rescuemy companion. I bounded between the branches of some stout saplings,they parted as my body struck them but sprung together again before myleg had cleared the V-shaped opening.
My foot was imprisoned and I fell with a heavy thud on my face. For aninstant I was dazed, but even in my dazed state I was fully conscious ofPete's impending peril, and I kicked and struggled blindly to freemyself. My gun had been flung from my hand in my fall and was out of myreach. Then to my horror I heard the howl the wolf gives when game is insight, and even half blind as I was I saw dark, dog-like forms sweep byme; I heard the scream of an eagle; I heard a snarling and yelping, thesounds of a struggle--I ceased to kick, wiped the blood from my eyes andlooked ahead.
There lay Big Pete Darlinkel, dead or unconscious, and within ten feetof him stood the giant bear surrounded by a vicious pack of gauntred-mouthed wolves. The bear made a rush and a shadow passed over theground; I heard the sound of a large body rushing swiftly through theair, and an immense eagle struck the bear like a thunderbolt; at thesame instant the wolves attacked him from all sides; then there was awhistle keen and clear; the wolves retreated; the bird again soaredaloft; the bear made several passes in the air in search of the bird,fell forward again on all fours, rose on its hind legs and killed a wolfwith one sweep of its great paw.
The bear now made a dash at the giant leader of the pack, only to fallforward, dead, with its ugly nose across Big Pete's chest.
Then I remembered hearing the crack of a rifle, and knew that the WildMountain Man had saved our lives. I tried to rise but found my ankle sobadly sprained th
at I could not stand on it.
Suddenly a low voice with a hint of an Irish accent said, "Sit down,stranger, while I look to your mate," and I saw the tall lithe figure ofa man clothed in buckskin bending over Pete.
"Only stunned, friend," said he, and I heard no more. The blow on myhead, combined with the pain from my ankle was too much for me, and nowthat the danger was over it was a good time to faint, and I tookadvantage of it.
How long I remained unconscious I do not know, but when my eyes openedagain it was night; through the interlacing boughs overhead the starswere shining brightly, my head was neatly bandaged and so was my footand ankle. I could hear our horses cropping grass near by. I raised myhead and there lay Pete; he was alive I knew by his snores that issuedfrom his nose, and we were in our own camp; but--what are those animalsby our camp fire? Wolves! gaunt, shaggy wolves!
I hastily arose to a sitting posture, but my alarm subsided when in thedim light of the fire I could trace the outline of another man's figure,and on a stick close to the stranger's head roosted a giant bird.
Could it be that this wild man of the mountain--possibly my ownfather--was camping with us?
The Black Wolf Pack Page 4
