by Justin D'Ath
Mr Johnson wasn’t sure how far we’d come from the highway. Five or six miles, he reckoned. Which is about ten kilometres. If I jogged, I could do it in an hour.
Mum called another pack meeting. ‘Baloo is going back to the highway to get help,’ she said. ‘I want one volunteer to go with him.’
‘No, Mum,’ I said. ‘I’ll go on my own.’
‘It isn’t safe, Sam. I’d be happier if someone went with you.’
‘But the cubs will slow me down.’
‘It doesn’t matter.’ Mum switched to her scout leader voice. ‘I want you to take someone with you, Baloo.’
‘I’m a good runner,’ said Sally. ‘I came third in our whole school in the cross-country.’
I shook my head. ‘I’m sorry, Sally, but I choose Guy.’
‘But you promised!’
‘You did promise, Baloo,’ Mum reminded me.
‘Okay, then,’ I said, and gave Guy an apologetic look.
E.J. stepped forward. ‘I want to go, too.’
‘No, E.J. You should stay here and help look after your dad,’ I said.
‘I want to go with you,’ he said stubbornly. ‘This is America. I live here, you don’t.’
Mum caught my eye. ‘He’s right, Baloo. You might find E.J’s local knowledge helpful.’
‘And I’ve got this,’ E.J. said, pulling a small Swiss Army knife from one of his pockets. ‘It’s got blades for almost everything.’
‘That’s settled, then,’ Mum said. She gathered everyone around her. ‘Gunggari Pack, let’s send E.J, Sally and Baloo off with the Grand Howl.’
We all filled our lungs and howled.
From somewhere deep in the mountains around us, another – much eerier – howl came echoing back. It was the spookiest sound I’d ever heard.
‘What was that?’ said Guy, his eyes bulging in fright.
E.J. looked scared, too.
‘Real wolves,’ he whispered.
7
BIGFOOT!
‘Are wolves dangerous?’ Sally asked ten minutes later.
The three of us were walking down the bumpy dirt road in the direction of the highway. We all carried big sticks and kept glancing into the forest on either side of us.
‘You betcha they’re dangerous,’ E.J. said. ‘A pack of wolves can bring down a fully grown moose.’
‘Do they attack people?’ asked Sally.
‘Only if they’re really hungry,’ E.J. said. ‘And if the person isn’t in a group with other people.’
Now I was glad that Mum had insisted I take E.J. and Sally with me. ‘So three people’s a safe number?’ I said.
Before E.J. could answer, Sally let out a little gasp and grabbed my arm.
‘What’s the matter?’ I asked.
Instead of answering, she pointed into the forest on the uphill side of the road. I caught a glimpse of greyish-brown fur between two trees, but when I focused on the spot, nothing was there but branches and leaves. One of the branches was swaying slightly.
Sally’s fingers dug into my arm. ‘Did you see it?’ she whispered.
‘I saw something furry,’ I said. ‘Was it a wolf?’
She shook her head. ‘It was a person, I think. Except it was covered in fur.’
Now it was E.J. who gasped.
‘Bigfoot!’ he said.
8
SNAP!
People who’ve seen Bigfoot describe it as a huge ape-like creature, nearly twice the size of a gorilla, that walks upright like a human. There have been lots of sightings, going right back to the days when white people first settled in North America. And even before that, Native Americans called it the Sasquatch. But modern-day scientists don’t think Bigfoot is real. They reckon the sightings are hoaxes, or people mistaking bears for giant apes.
That’s what I believed, too. Until now. In my head was a picture of Bigfoot – half-man, half-ape, three metres tall.
It was something I absolutely did not want to meet.
‘Should we go back and warn the others?’ whispered Sally.
Part of me wanted to. We could be back there in ten minutes. But every second was precious. We had to reach the highway and get help for Mum and Mr Johnson and Will before nightfall.
‘I don’t think Bigfoot’s dangerous,’ I said.
E.J. looked up into the forest where Sally and I had glimpsed Bigfoot. ‘A little boy disappeared from a camp site a few years back. It wasn’t far from here. People reckon Bigfoot got him.’
Trust E.J. to make things worse.
‘You two can go back if you like,’ I said, gripping my stick so hard my knuckles turned white. ‘I’m going to the highway.’
‘I’ll go with you, Baloo,’ said Sally.
‘Me too,’ said E.J.
We walked faster after that. And kept glancing over our shoulders, half-expecting to see Bigfoot following us.
But the danger wasn’t behind us.
‘Yikes!’ said Sally.
We’d just come around a corner. About a hundred metres away, a bear was crossing the road. It looked enormous – much bigger than the black bear we’d seen earlier – and its fur was brown.
We stopped in our tracks.
The bear stopped, too, and turned its broad, shaggy head in our direction.
‘It’s a grizzly,’ E.J. whispered.
‘Should we lie on the ground?’ asked Sally.
‘That’s only if they attack,’ whispered E.J. ‘Walk backwards – slowly, so it doesn’t think we’re running away.’
Step by step, we backed away from the grizzly. It was hard not to run. I’d heard lots of stories about grizzlies and none of them were good. They’re the most dangerous and unpredictable of all bears. They kill more humans than any other wild animal in North America. They’re ten times stronger than a man.
Our sticks would be totally useless if it attacked.
Please don’t attack, I thought, as Sally, E.J. and I shuffled backwards along the disused logging road. We’d nearly reached the corner.
Suddenly I felt a light breeze on the back of my neck. Uh oh. It would carry our scent to the grizzly. I wondered if grizzlies could smell fear.
I saw it raise its muzzle in the air.
Then it turned slowly and came walking up the road towards us.
‘Now do we lie down?’ asked Sally.
She was braver than me. No way was I going to lie down.
‘I think we should run,’ I whispered.
E.J. shook his head. ‘That’ll make it run.’
He was right. The grizzly was still sixty metres away, but I’d seen how fast bears could move when they wanted to. It was walking almost as fast as I could run. With every step it took, the gap between the grizzly and us was closing by about a metre. It would catch us in under a minute.
‘What’ll we do?’ I asked.
‘Climb a tree,’ whispered E.J.
‘Can’t grizzlies climb trees?’ asked Sally.
‘Not like black bears,’ E.J. whispered. ‘They’re too big and heavy.’
We backed slowly around the corner. As soon as we were out of sight, E.J. turned and said, ‘Run!’
The trees in the Rocky Mountains are ideal for climbing. They have tall, straight trunks with lots of branches that poke out like the rungs of a ladder. Which was lucky for us. Because no sooner had we reached the nearest trees and started climbing, than the grizzly came charging around the corner. It didn’t even pause to look for us. Its nose told it where we were. Without breaking its stride, the huge shaggy bear swerved off the road and came lumbering towards us.
There hadn’t been much time to choose our trees. Sally and E.J. were lucky. Their trees were tall. Mine was only six metres high, with a trunk hardly thicker than a man’s thigh. The grizzly must have weighed half a tonne. It hit my skinny tree at full speed.
WHOMP!
Luckily I was holding on tight. The tree bent like a whip, then sprang back the other way, knocking the grizzly over backwards. It land
ed in a big furry heap, and didn’t move for a couple of seconds. Then it raised its head and looked around. It seemed slightly dazed. Flies buzzed around its nose and eyes, and a long line of drool dangled from its mouth. Slowly, the huge bear struggled to its feet. It came ambling back to the base of my tree and looked up. Our eyes met. Go away, bear, I thought. But the grizzly had other ideas.
Making an angry puffing sound, like someone blowing on hot soup, it started climbing up after me.
E.J. reckoned grizzlies couldn’t climb trees! I scrambled away from it, clambering up through the branches until I was nearly at the top. The trunk got really skinny. It started swaying back and forth, making an ominous creaking sound. But the grizzly kept coming. Higher and higher, closer and closer.
Sally’s and E.J.’s trees were on either side of mine. They started throwing fir cones at the grizzly, but that just made it more determined. Puffing and snorting, the huge, shaggy bear fought its way upwards until its head was just below my feet. I thought about kicking it in the nose, but one look at its enormous yellow teeth made me change my mind.
I had no choice but to climb a little higher.
CREEEEEEAK!
Slowly, the tree started bending. The grizzly and I went with it. There was nothing I could do but hold on. This time the tree didn’t reach a point where it swayed back the other way. It kept bending, further and further, until …
SNAP!
9
BEAR HUG
E.J. was right – grizzlies are too big to climb trees. A branch snapped beneath the bear’s enormous weight, sending it crashing to the ground. It landed with a thump, rolled down the steep hillside and crashed into a boulder.
Grizzlies are tough. It wasn’t hurt. It sat up, shook the dust off itself, then came ambling back to the tree, which had sprung upright again as soon as the bear fell.
‘Buzz off,’ I said.
The grizzly’s nose twitched, sniffing the air. It must have liked what it smelled, because it rose up on its hind legs and regarded me with its small, piggy eyes.
And licked its chops.
It’s a really creepy feeling being looked at like you’re food. It sent a shiver down my spine.
‘YAAAAAAAAH!’ I yelled, trying the same tactic I’d used on the other bear.
But this was a grizzly, not a black bear. Yelling just made it mad. It wrinkled its nose and lifted its upper lip, giving me another look at its fearsome teeth. I was worried it would try climbing up after me again, but the grizzly had a different plan. Gripping the tree in a bear hug, it started pushing and pulling at the trunk. It was trying to shake me down. The tree wobbled and shook. The top part of it – where I was – swayed sickeningly from side to side. I held on tight and prayed that the skinny trunk wouldn’t break.
Suddenly there was a popping sound. The tree gave a big jolt. I looked down.
Shishkebab! The tree’s roots were pulling out of the ground. One by one, they broke free of the dusty soil. The tree started leaning. Sensing what was happening, the grizzly shook it even harder. More roots broke free, popping out of the ground like long, knobbly fingers.
Almost in slow motion, the tree began to fall. I felt myself tipping backwards. My luck had run out. If the fall didn’t kill me, the grizzly certainly would.
‘Grab a branch!’ a voice said.
I’d stopped tipping. E.J. was directly above me. His face was red and sweaty as he gripped the very top of my tree with one hand. His other arm was wrapped securely around the trunk of his own tree. My tree must have toppled into his and he’d grabbed it, halting its fall.
‘Hurry!’ he gasped. ‘I can’t hold on much longer!’
I swung myself from my tree into E.J’s tree just as E.J. lost his grip. The smaller tree crashed to the ground, leaving me dangling from a branch two metres below E.J.
It was a long thin branch and I was right at the end of it. I heard a familiar creaking sound and the branch started to bend downwards. I went with it. There were no other branches within reach. All I could do was hold on, grit my teeth and wait for the branch to snap.
CREEEEEEEAK!
It didn’t snap. It bent like a fishing rod, all the way down until my feet touched the ground.
Uh oh!
I desperately tried to haul myself back up. But I was too slow. A huge paw came out of nowhere – pow! – and sent me flying.
10
DANGEROUS PLACE
Two pieces of advice flashed through my brain as the grizzly loomed over me: Lie face down on the ground and cover your head, and Attack is the best means of defence.
But before I could decide, a large grey-and-white dog leapt across me and buried its teeth in the grizzly’s shoulder. A second dog came from the side, hitting the bear in the ribs. With a roar of anger, the grizzly rose up on its hind legs and swatted its attackers away, only to be hit from behind by two more.
Suddenly there were big pale dogs everywhere, hurling themselves at the bear from all directions. I thought they were huskies until one landed on top of me. For a few trembling heartbeats, the animal straddled my chest. There was no mistaking that long, tapering muzzle and those golden-yellow eyes.
I was nose-to-nose with a wolf.
One snap of those fearsome jaws could have severed my jugular vein. But it wasn’t me the wolves were after, it was the grizzly. With a low, dog-like growl, the wolf whirled around and launched itself back into the fray.
I curled up in a ball, making myself as small as possible, as the battle raged. It was like being in a rugby scrum, but instead of boots and elbows and knees, there were claws and paws and flashing teeth. I was showered in flying spit. Clumps of fur fell all around me. Most of it was grey and white. The wolves had the numbers, but the grizzly had the power. I heard a yelp of pain, and a wolf hit the ground in a cloud of dust. Another wolf had blood on its leg.
Someone was shouting at me. I recognised Sally’s voice.
‘BALOO! CLIMB A TREE!’
It was good advice. Neither the bear nor the wolves were taking any notice of me; they were too busy fighting each other. I crawled away from the battle towards the nearest tree trunk. Sally was right above me, motioning at me to climb up.
I don’t think I’ve ever climbed a tree so fast.
‘They’re going,’ Sally said as soon as I reached her.
I looked down. The wolves were filing into the forest in a long, ragged line. There were about twelve of them. Two at the rear of the pack were limping, another had a badly torn ear. The grizzly had won the battle. It lumbered after them for a few seconds, making a loud huff-huff-huff sound like a steam train, then it stopped and sat down.
‘Were they wolves?’ Sally asked.
I nodded. I was watching them vanish silently into the trees. ‘Why did they attack the bear?’ I wondered out loud.
‘Who cares?’ Sally said. ‘They saved your life.’
She was right. Thanks to the wolves, I was still alive. The grizzly would have killed me for sure if they hadn’t come along. But the danger wasn’t over yet. The grizzly was still there, sitting on the ground not far from our tree, licking one of its front paws.
‘I think it’s hurt,’ I whispered.
‘Good,’ said Sally.
Partly I agreed with her. The grizzly had tried to kill me. And it had beaten up several of the wolves. But they had attacked it, so it had a good excuse. I still didn’t understand what the fight had been about. Was it something to do with food? Did the wolves attack the bear so they could get me? If that was the case, then I owed my life to the grizzly!
‘Hey Baloo, are you okay?’ E.J. called from his tree.
‘I’m fine,’ I said softly, still watching the bear. I wanted to ask E.J. if wolves often attacked grizzlies, but I didn’t want to attract the bear’s attention. It had turned its head when E.J. called out to me.
Now it stood up and came ambling back in our direction. It stopped right under Sally and me, and looked up. Its black muzzle quivered. Goose bumps
prickled my skin.
‘I think I’m the one it’s after,’ I whispered.
The grizzly rose up on its hind legs and began climbing the tree.
‘Yikes!’ said Sally.
I was about to tell her to climb a bit higher, when a long, wailing howl rose out of the forest nearby. Wolves.
The grizzly stopped climbing and looked in the direction of the eerie sound. For four or five seconds the bear didn’t move a muscle, then it snorted, dropped nimbly to the ground and went ambling off down the road.
As soon as the grizzly had gone, the wolves stopped howling.
‘Thank you, wolves,’ Sally whispered.
We stayed in the trees for another fifteen minutes, until we were sure neither the bear nor the wolves were coming back. Then Sally and I climbed cautiously back down and stood at the edge of the road.
‘Now what, Baloo?’ E.J. asked, walking across from his tree to join us.
‘Call me Sam,’ I said. I wished I wasn’t the one who had to make the decisions. ‘Do you think it’s safe to keep going?’
‘Akela sent us to get help.’
But things had changed. I looked down at the road’s dusty surface. The bear’s paw prints were the size of dinner plates. ‘The grizzly’s somewhere ahead of us.’
‘And Bigfoot’s behind us,’ said Sally.
I’d forgotten about that. Bigfoot, grizzlies, wolves – America was a dangerous place.
‘There might be another way,’ E.J. said. ‘We can get help at the farm.’
‘What farm?’ I asked, surprised. We were surrounded by forest and mountains.
E.J. waved one hand vaguely at the wall of spiky fir trees that bordered the road. ‘It’s about three miles that-a-way. You can see it from the tree I climbed.’
I scrambled up to have a look. Sure enough, there was a green patch of grassland at the far end of the valley. I could even see the red roof of a farmhouse. Awesome! Our troubles were nearly over.
But when I looked out over the undulating sea of forest between me and the farm, I had a sudden reality check. First we had to get there. E.J. reckoned it was three miles, which is roughly five kilometres. That mightn’t sound far, but finding our way through five kilometres of untamed wilderness wasn’t going to be easy.
