Boy Scouts in the Rockies; Or, The Secret of the Hidden Silver Mine

by Herbert Carter

  CHAPTER XIII.

  THE SAFEST WAY OF "SHOOTING" A GRIZZLY.

  Meanwhile, how fared the ambitious big-horn hunters?

  They had started out, filled with a determination to accomplishsomething, even if it took a couple of days. Indeed, the guide hadsaid to Thad before leaving that none of them need worry if the partyfailed to show up at nightfall. The distances were so great, and themountain climbing of such a stupendous character, that they might haveto put in the better part of several days reaching the feeding groundsof the animals, and getting the coveted chance for a shot or two.

  When noon came it found them climbing steadily. They were entirely outof sight of the valley where the camp lay, so that they could have noknowledge of what was happening in that quarter. But so set were theboys on what had taken them forth, that for the time being they feltperfectly satisfied to quite forget other matters.

  "Talk about your wild country," remarked Step Hen, when they all cameto a little stop to eat a "snack," and rest, so as to be ready for afurther climb; "this sure takes the cake for me. Why, that poor littleBlue Ridge country ain't in it. You could put it all in a pocket,here, and it wouldn't be missed."

  "Well," remarked Smithy, who was bearing up under the strain in amanner that would have pleased the scoutmaster, could he have beenalong to notice it; "you want to be exceedingly careful how you saythat before our hot-blooded Southern chum, Bob White, unless you'reready to get into a war of words."

  "Oh! excuse me," chuckled Step Hen, "I wouldn't be guilty of hurtingBob's pride even a little bit. I know he thinks that Land of the Skycountry better than most other places. Well, it takes a lot ofdifferent people to make a world, don't it, fellers?"

  "That's right, it does," remarked Davy Jones, who had managed to snapoff several pictures as they came along; but was trying to save mostof his exposures for things that would count, live subjects, in fact.

  "How much further do we have to climb, Toby?" asked Smithy, trying toappear rather indifferent about it, though the others just knew hemust feel the strain more than any of them; because Smithy had neverbeen much of an athlete, and up to date had yet to play in his firstbaseball game, strange to say.

  "Wall, that depends on a good many things," the guide responded. "Fustplace, we don't know as yet jest whar the sheep might be feedin'. I'mheadin' for a place whar I seen 'em more'n a few times, when I wasprospectin' through this kentry."

  "Oh! so _you_ had a touch of the lost mine fever, too, did you?"quickly remarked Smithy; for up to the present time Toby had never somuch as admitted this fact; but now he grinned and went on:

  "Why, yes, I've taken my look, and had jest the same luck as all therest what thought they could pick it up. But about them big horns,boys; if they don't happen to be whar I'm headin' fust, then we gotto go another two hours. But chances are, we'll find a flock in one ofthem places, an' git a shot afore nightfall sets in."

  With this comforting thought, then, the little party once more startedout, after an hour's rest and refreshment. Smithy was doubtlessfeeling considerably better. He never complained, even while he limpedsadly at times; and once came near losing his grip, when swingingacross a bad place in the trail; so that he might even have fallen,only that the ready guide threw an arm around him, having been keepingconveniently near.

  Smithy was proving one thing, at least; he might never turn out to bemuch of a hunter; but he surely possessed his father's spirit, when itcame to game qualities. And when he went back home, all the maidenaunts in creation would never be able to bring that boy back again tothe docile habits that had marked him heretofore, thanks to womantraining. Smithy had had a taste of real outdoors, and would never besatisfied again to live in that old "sissy" rut.

  It was about an hour after the stop that, without warning, the littleparty suddenly came upon a monstrous grizzly bear, slowly making hisway diagonally across the track they were following.

  At sight of them the animal reared up on his hind quarters, and seemedto be trying to make up his mind whether he ought to attack thesequeer two-legged creatures, or go on about his own business.

  Step Hen half raised his gun to his shoulder; but instantly the guideclapped a hand over the lock. There were no convenient trees in whichthey could take shelter from an enraged grizzly; and Toby Smathersknew too much about these animals to have any wish to find one rushingat them, wild with rage from a wound.

  "Snap--click!"

  "Got him that time!" said a delighted voice.

  Of course it was Davy Jones. He had swung that kodak of his around,calmly focussed on the grizzly as the animal reared himself up to aterrible height, and then pressed the button.

  And perhaps after all that was the safest kind of "shooting," when itcame to a matter of grizzly bears. Even one of this ferocious specieswould hardly offer any serious objections to having his likenesspreserved, for future generations to gaze upon.

  "Keep still, all on you!" warned the guide, who was holding his ownrifle in readiness for instant use, should the bear conclude to chargethem. "We ain't lost any Mountain Charleys to-day, as I knows on. Bighorns is what we kim out after. Let him take hisself off, if he will,and a good riddance too, I says."

  Which the enormous beast finally concluded to do. Perhaps he had hadhis dinner, and was not feeling in a particularly aggressive mood. Nomatter what the cause, all of the boys heaved sighs of positive reliefwhen he shuffled away, looking back over his shoulder several times.

  "Just like he wanted half an excuse for getting his mad up," explainedStep Hen. "He had a chip on his shoulder, all right. And I guess I'mglad you didn't let me start in on him, Toby. I might a missedknockin' him over for keeps; and then what a nice pickle we'd all beenin. Excuse me from tacklin' a moving mountain like that, when treesare as scarce as hens' teeth."

  "And I'm real glad, too, you didn't fire," admitted Smithy, who hadturned somewhat white during the minute of dreadful suspense, while hestared at that monster squatted in their path. "I was ready to backyou up; but then what could you expect from a greenhorn? I neverwished so much that I'd taken to this sort of thing before, as I didwhen that fearful beast was looking at me, just as if to say, 'you'rethe tenderest of the lot, Smithy, and I think I'll choose you, if Ihave room for any more inside me.'"

  The other boys laughed at his words; but on the whole they thoughtSmithy had carried himself rather creditably, all things considered.And each knew, deep down in his secret soul, that his own heart hadseemed to stand still; while his blood ran cold, as he stood there,awaiting the decision of the bear.

  They glanced around rather fearfully for some little time after that;but as nothing was seen again of the mountain terror, they finallyconcluded that the incident was closed.

  Again their thoughts went out toward the singular game they had comeafter. Many an ambitious hunter had sought to shoot a big-horn sheep inthe Rockies, day after day, and was compelled to give it up in the endas useless, so Toby had informed them. The conditions were generallyvery difficult, and the game so shy. Besides, their sense of impendingdanger seemed to be abnormally developed; and on account of the rockyformation of the slopes where they found bunches of grass in thecrevices, it was often next to impossible to stalk them from leeward.

  This being the case the tired boys were thrilled to the core when Tobyfinally announced that he had had a glimpse of the game. Of coursethey became wildly excited, and demanded that he show them. Creepingcarefully up to a certain outcropping rock, they peered around itsedge. And for the first time in their lives Davy, Step Hen and Smithyfound themselves looking upon the queer animals that seem to live inthe wildest parts of the Rockies, taking delight in bounding fromcrag to crag, and baffling the skill of the most experienced chamoishunters to get within gun-shot of their lofty eyries.

  There were seven or eight of the sheep, and as they were really justwithin gun range the boys could get a splendid view of them. Theyadmired the tremendous curved horns greatly, and Step Hen quiveredwith eagerness to say that he
had shot a Rocky Mountain sheep all byhimself; while Davy clicked his camera several times, so that he atleast might have a picture, in case they could get no nearer.

  "I can't be sure of even hitting one from here," whispered Step Hen,turning appealingly to the guide. "Ain't it possible to creep upcloser, Toby? Oh! please fix it for us, won't you?" just as though theguide had it in his power to do anything they wanted.

  But fortunately the lay of the mountain allowed Toby to arrange it;and he soon mapped out a route that they might crawl along, keepingwell hidden from the feeding sheep, and getting gradually closer.

  Besides, it happened that luck was working overtime in their favor;because the animals happened to be feeding toward them. Now only twoor three could be seen, nibbling at the tufts of grass, or leapingacross some small fissure that tried to block them from other temptingpastures; and then again the whole seven would be in sight at thesame moment.

  After advancing slowly and carefully for some time Toby made motionsthat they dare not go any further. He also let them know by signsthat, as the sheep were still coming in a line toward them, all theyhad to do was to lie quiet, and wait until the right moment.

  That was a period of great excitement to the scouts, two of themclutching their guns in hands that would tremble in spite of them;while the third was trying to find the best spot to hold his kodak,with a view of snapping off a picture just before the critical secondcame for shooting.

  Step Hen and Smithy had even gone so far as to select which of theseven sheep they hoped to get; and as they lay there, peeping out fromtheir rocky shelter, it can be taken for granted that each of them hadeyes for his particular quarry only.

  And then finally Toby touched the shoulder of the kodak owner, as asignal that he had better be getting to work.