Mountain Storms (4 page)

C
HAPTER
S
IX

S
TRENGTH TO
P
RESERVE

He rose like a conqueror, for had he not faced hard fortune, and in so short a space made a home, killed his own food, and cooked it? If there were sorrow just behind him, and unknown terrors in the future, he kept away from all thought of these things by centering his mind resolutely on what lay immediately before him. The first thing, even before breakfast, was to bury the bones of poor Billy. He shoveled a hole in the soft dirt, and in half an hour all that was mortal of the burro lay underground, with a litter of heavy rocks above it to keep out curious wolves.

Then he cut a slender sapling, straight as a rule and willowy in suppleness. To the end he tied the fishing line and hook. On the bank of the little stream that worked around the foot of his hill, he found bait in plenty at the first turn of his shovel, and soon he had jerked three big trout from the water.

That made a delicious breakfast, toasted brown over wood coals as he had been taught to do by John Parks. After he had eaten, he stood up and stretched his arms, filled with a sense of joyful power. How painfully small and weak he was, matched with those enormous mountains, those huge, dark woods. Yet he had won a livelihood from them these few days; he would keep on winning it until his blazed trails led a rescuer to his camp.

But, if he wakened hungry from the fasting of a single morning, what must be the case of the poor mother bear? He knew that after hibernation a grizzly eats little during the first week, but it might be many and many a day since the big bear had wakened from her season of sleep. She must be wild with famine and with thirst, he thought.

Close to the cave of the bruin, the day before, he had heard the voice of a brook and even had seen the waters pooled in a little lake that promised to be brimful of fish. So he took with him for the day's expedition the fishing line and rod, his father's four-pound hammer, which was one of the most valued articles in the pack, the revolver tied on his hip, and a square of the tarpaulin on which their blankets had been laid. So off he went through the woods, with his whistle running thrillingly before him.

But no one can whistle long through the solemnity of virgin forest. The music died away, and Tommy went on, silent and serious, among the great trees. Now that he was left lonely in the wilderness, it took on a different face and spirit in his eyes. The shadowed places were full of a solemn interest.

The huge trunks were full of signs to him. Every tree carried a character of its own. Every rustling breeze seemed to hold a message for Tommy, if he could only have understood the sighing voices. Instinctively he walked softly, letting the toe strike first, and avoiding all twigs that might make a crackling underfoot. Now and again he paused, near a tree, and reconnoitered the forest ahead and behind. It seemed to him that the moving shadows must be cast by living beasts of prey, which stalked him. No matter if reason told him that they were not apt to rove abroad except during the evening and the night, still he was troubled, and he took care not to walk along the trail that he had followed the day before.

He reached the clearing with its litter of stones and fallen boulders, and, as he stepped out from behind the trees, he discovered that even his silent coming had not been silent enough, for there were the two little balls of fur, Jack and Jerry, scurrying as hard as they could for the shelter of the mother's cave. Their hair-trigger senses had warned them of his approach. When he stepped toward the cave, he was greeted with the same tremendous roar from the bruin.

In spite of all he knew about her helplessness, that bellow of rage stopped him short and lifted the hair on his head with a prickling fear. But he went on again, reassured, and leaned over to look inside. At sight of him, it was apparent that the mother recognized her visitor of the day before, for she dropped down to the ground and laid her head on the forepaws once more, watching him with unblinking eyes. Yonder were little Jack and Jerry, standing up as gravely as any grown men could have done, with their forepaws folded across their chests and their sharp eyes twinkling out at him through the shadows. It was a thrilling sight to Tommy. His heart went out to them strangely, and he turned and hurried away toward the creek.

It was even better stocked than he had dared to hope. The first worm that wriggled on his hook had hardly touched the surface of the water when it was seized, and he snatched out a silver-flashing four-pounder. The little pond fairly swarmed with hungry life. In five minutes he had brought a dozen prizes to the shore. They lay flopping and quivering all around his feet, and Tommy laughed with the joy of the sport.

He had to make two trips with fish in his tarpaulin before he had brought all the prizes to the vicinity of the cave. On the second trip he found that mother bruin was standing up, her head wedged against the opening of the cave. She had smelled the fish, and she was wild with hunger, indeed.

Yet when Tommy came near with a fish in his hands, she promptly drew back so far as the meager limits of the cave would permit, and, when he threw in the fish, she allowed it to flap within an inch of her nose without stirring to devour it. But there was a convulsive twitching of her nostrils, and Tommy knew that it had been eloquent to the scent of the great brute.

He tossed in another. Now she shoved her head forward, smelled the first fish, smelled the second—and even allowed Jack and Jerry to scramble up and do as she was doing. They sniffed the fish from head to tail, and then stood up and eyed their mother, plainly asking her what was to be done with these cold things whose odor was so delicious. Tommy threw in a third of his spoils, and now, as though the number of them assured her that they were untainted, the mother began to eat. Half a dozen went down her gullet as fast as Tommy could throw them in, and he laughed with pleasure at the sight of her evident satisfaction. But the seventh fish she cut in two and ate only half, and the eighth she did not touch. Plainly her stomach, still shrunk by the winter's fast, would not permit her to eat more. But Tommy threw in all the rest, and then went down to the creek and returned with a gallon of water in the tarpaulin. He poured it into a hollow of the rock near the mouth of the cave and watched her lap it up—but only a few swallows was all she wanted. The rest she allowed Jack and Jerry to come and wallow in, smelling it with their keen noses and then cuffing it tentatively with their paws, until finally they were tumbling and scuffling in the midst of it.

It was too great a temptation to Tommy. Little Jack stood nearest him with back turned, and with a quick reach and snatch Tommy caught the cub behind the neck and jerked it out.

It was the signal for pandemonium to break loose. The frantic mother came to life with a rush that brought her crashing against the opening. The poised boulder quivered—then sank back into place. In the meantime, her roar was threatening to burst the ears of Tommy, while at the same time his hands were unbelievably busy with Jack.

The little bear was armed with tiny claws, sharp as the claws of a cat, well nigh, and with needlelike teeth. And instinct or scuffling with his brother seemed to have taught him how to use both weapons with professional skill. In ten seconds, blood stood out on a dozen little scratches on Tommy before he had young master bruin secured with a firm grip behind the ears, as a cat may be held. Then, realizing that to battle was vain, he struggled to get back to his mother, whining piteously.

But Tommy held his grip. The wild roar of the mother had subsided to a terrible growling, while, thrust forward so far as she could come, she watched every movement of Tommy with a grim anxiety. He was careful to remain where she could see his every movement. He began speaking in a low, gentle voice, as soon as he could make himself heard, and stroking the soft fur.

The whining of Jack fell away to a subdued moan of terror. At the same instant the uproar of the mother ceased entirely. It was as though she did not wish to make a noise that might take up some of her faculties and prevent her from noticing every touch of the boy as he handled her precious son. Finally she silenced Jerry, who was squealing still with a piercing insistence, with one of those flips of a forepaw that sent him tumbling and threatening to break every bone in his body.

But he rose, as always, in perfect unconcern, carefully wiped the dirt from his bruised nose with his paw, and sat up to watch the progress of affairs with greater care. That cuff had silenced Jack, as well. He no longer even struggled, but cowered down under the caresses of Tommy's hand.

He seemed to find a pleasure in the stroking, too. Finally he turned his head and dared to look his captor straight in the face. It was only an instinct that he met those strange, human eyes at such terribly close range. Then he jerked his head away. But the quiet, happy voice of Tommy, thrilled and delighted by his conquest, gave Jack new courage. He looked again.

There was no cuff to reprove him. The gentle stroking continued. The quiet, human voice that sent such mysterious currents of electric surprise and pleasure through the heart of Jack went on. Finally Jack ventured closer. He stood up on the leg of Tommy. He actually sniffed at the face of this harmless stranger who had such delightful powers.

The heart of Tommy leaped. He had not known until now how desperately empty his spirit had been, how completely full of loneliness he had been poured, but the sniffing of the trustful, curious little cub at his face brought tears of happiness to his eyes.

He took the cub as before and ventured toward the mouth of the cave. The mother growled softly, and the ears of Jack flattened as he heard the voice. He was placed on the ground, and he crawled toward mother bruin as though he felt that he had been playing the errant against orders and must be punished for his transgressions. But the grizzly was only too happy to have him back. She licked and sniffed every inch of him, and then retreated with a growl of satisfaction to the rear of the cave, where she lay down as before to watch for the development of events.

It was all most mysterious to her. She had been taught by Mother Nature that all beasts take and hold only to destroy. But here was her helpless offspring taken away and then restored to her, safe and sound. Moreover, it had been taken by man, and she had learned from the wise mother before her that man is the one thing to be dreaded in all the range of the mountains. Nothing else could harm her. The stoutest mountain lion fled from its kill at her approach. All wild brutes trembled before her. But man, she had been taught, sees from afar and kills from afar—an inescapable death. Not in vain had she had her encounters with three separate packs of dogs with which she had been hunted, and, although she had escaped each time by miracles of cunning and endurance, she carried the scars of five bullets on her big body, and the bullets themselves in her flesh.

But if she had been taught some lessons by pain, she could learn still other lessons through the kindness of the new teacher. Bear and dog come from a common ancestor, and both have the power to understand the ways of man. Although she dreaded Tommy still because of the man scent that was so abhorrent to her, yet she was beginning to feel that, just as he was smaller than those other men who had trailed her, so was he gentler, also. And who could tell? If the others had strength to destroy, he might have equal strength to preserve.

At least she would wait and watch, and watch she did, with her great head tilted cannily to the side, wonderfully like a dog, while Tommy took up his four-pound hammer and renewed the attack on the rock that fenced her in.

C
HAPTER
S
EVEN

F
RIENDSHIP
IS
S
TRENGTHENED

He made wonderfully good progress with the hammer. The axe had been a clumsy tool for the work of the day before, but the shorter handle of the hammer gave Tommy a better chance. It was a heavy tool, to be sure, and, although he stood with braced legs and swung the hammer with a regular rhythm, yet his shoulders and back were aching before he had been at it long. But the rock was falling away in great and greater flakes. And now the entrance hole was perceptibly widened.

When he retired to scrape away the fragments, the mother bear came again to the opening, and now all of her broad head could pass through. She whined up to Tommy with understanding as he approached again.

When he sat down at the entrance and held out his hand, she did not at once cuff Jack away as the curious little cub started slowly to investigate the meaning of that inviting hand.

She allowed him, the first time, to come within a few inches of the hand, sniffing eagerly, before she knocked him away with a growl that warned him to stay out of danger and let well enough alone. But when Tommy persisted in staying there, she merely pricked her ears the second time and watched without interference.

For curiosity in a bear is almost as great as its fear of death. The strange sight of a forest fire had once held her fascinated until a far-flung arm of the conflagration cut in behind her and nearly blocked her retreat. She had retired with a scorched back and a deeper respect for the great red enemy, but forest fires remained as interesting as ever to her. Now, much as she dreaded the small human in the mouth of the cave, she was devoured with insatiable curiosity as to what he would do if his hand touched her cub again. Once before she had seen Jack handled, and yet he had come back to her, rank with the taint of man, to be sure, but safe and sound in body and limb. Might it not happen again?

It did happen. Little Jack came to the fingertips, sniffed them, ventured closer, shrank from the hand that attempted to caress him, and then came back and allowed the fingers to rub his head. He went farther out. With a faint growl of anxiety, she saw him taken up. But then there happened what had happened before. He was soothed by a gentle voice. He was stroked and rubbed to his heart's content. Even when those sharp little teeth of his closed on the hand of the boy, even though that bite brought a small drop of crimson to the surface of the skin, he went unpunished. The bruin was too amazed for thought. But she was delighted until her flanks quivered with the sensation. What could be a greater joy to her than to drink in these great draughts of knowledge?

To be sure, when Jerry attempted to follow Jack, she decided that one risk was enough at a time, and he was warned back, cowering, by a terrific snarl. But when Jack was returned to her a moment later, her examination of him was most cursory. At a glance, at a sniff, she knew that all was well with him still.

The work at widening the hole continued now, and Tommy made the chips of rock fly. But when the afternoon grew late and the spring sun sloped into the far west, he threw down the hammer with a great sigh and rubbed his aching shoulders as he contemplated what still remained to be done. It meant days and days of this labor—and his hands were already blistered with what he had done.

Yet what a wonderful thing it was, thought Tommy as he started home that evening, that it could be within the power of his small hands not only to support his own life in the wilderness, but to save the lives of three other creatures? And the sense of labor accomplished and other labor to be done toward the good end filled him with a solid self-respect that was new to him. He felt these things; reason was not yet developed in him to the extent of allowing him to be mentally conscious of them.

Once more he was too tired to keep his eyes open for long after he had eaten his supper, but, as his eyes closed in profound slumber, a new thought came to him. In the morning he would take all that he needed with him, block the mouth of his big cave with more and heavier rocks, and move to stay by the bear cave until the work of liberation was completed.

That promise to himself he kept when the dawn wakened him. How little he needed. Salt, a little flour, matches, and the rifle, the hammer, and a blanket tied up in the tarpaulin—that was all. As for the other food he required, his fishing line would get it for him, and he could supplement that excellent fare by knocking over one of the stupid mountain grouse now and again.

Few as the articles were, they made a heavy pack for the legs of a twelve-year-old, and he was panting before he reached the bear cave after his breakfast. It seemed that his particular scent was now well known, for there was no thunderous roar to greet him—only a deep, anxious growl. And the little cubs, playing as usual in the clearing among the stones, retreated only to the mouth of the cave and there stood up on their hind legs, as bears do, to observe him, until they were dragged inside by the paw of the bruin.

But even this anxiety left her later on. She permitted Jack to steal out, during one of Tommy's resting periods, while he sat down, always taking care to be in view of the mother bear so that she could see all that happened. For his great care was to reconcile her to him. As for the cubs, a thousand other persons had tamed young bears, but how often had grown grizzlies been made into safe companions? So much the greater triumph if he eventually should succeed! If a boy of twelve could succeed, surely that would be a proof that kindness is a greater weapon than the rifle. He had heard his father say that, but at the time he had not been able to understand.

So he lay on one elbow near the mouth of the cave while Jack stole cautiously out to him— followed by an anxious growl or two, as though to warn him that he must be on his good behavior. But Jack observed caution only for a moment. He skirmished around Tommy for a little while, and then he came straight to close quarters for a better investigation. And there followed a wonderful game!

There were so many possibilities. There were pockets filled with strange scents that might be inquired into. There was the strange-smelling leather of the shoes, which might be chewed upon. And if one climbed to the shoulder of this playmate, his head was crowned by a thatch of hair just like the hair of a bear, although not quite so rough, perhaps.

By this time Jerry had played the part of an idle spectator longer than he could endure, and he came out for his share of the fun. Where one had broken the ice already, it was not hard for a second to follow suit. In five minutes Jerry was every whit as familiar as Jack, while mother bruin contented herself with crowding her head out the opening and observing each move.

With that romp ended, the cubs stayed out to continue play of their own, while Tommy went back to his labors. At noon he went down to the brook and caught more fish, some for himself, but more for the grizzly, since she had devoured the last of those he had brought her the day before. He fed them to her, then brought up water as he had done before and actually ventured a hand inside the cave to scrape the dirt out of the hollow of the rock that served her as a drinking trough.

But the bruin merely snorted at him and came to smell the rock after he had done with it. When the water was brought, she drank, long and deep. After that, there were new mysteries into which the cubs were quickly initiated. First of all, when Tommy's fire was lighted, they scampered, whining, back to the cave, but, after the flames had died down a bit, they were lured by the delicious odors of the roasting fish and ventured close again. They not only came close, but one at a time they sat up on their haunches and received tiny bits of the fish from the tips of Tommy's fingers. And they relished the taste!

Where one thing was good, why might not all be harmless? Alas, that it could not prove to be so. Poor Jerry selected for his next investigation a little, red-hot wood coal and, after a bit of tentative sniffing, picked it up boldly in both forepaws.

There followed a shrill squeal of pain—a roar from mother grizzly—and a slight taint of burnt hair in the air. Tommy turned anxiously to watch the bruin. Would she feel that he had burned her young ones purposely? By no means, apparently. She simply sniffed the burned paws, and then promptly turned her head away and calmly ate another fish, as though she intended to convey that those who would not be warned must take the consequences. But that day and the next and the next, Jerry went about on his hind legs, or, if he wanted to run, he had to put all his weight upon the outside rim of his forepaws.

All those days Tommy was working like a Trojan to widen the mouth of the cave. A week passed, and he was still at it. And now he could no longer catch fish to satisfy the bruin. In the first place, it was harder to take them in the waters of the creek. In the second place, and primarily, the appetite of the bruin had grown beyond all measure. Both food and water she seemed to require in unheard-of quantities. He kept enough of the latter for her in the cave, but of the former he could not bring sufficient amounts. Tommy worked with all his might to let her out so she might forage for herself.

It was terribly slow work, however. The edge of the rock had given way rapidly enough, but now as he came to the body of it, every inch added to the gap meant many hours of hammering. There was one great advantage, at least. The blisters had dried away, healed, and now his palms were growing callused. New muscles, too, had grown out on his slender young arms, so that the labor of wielding the hammer was far easier. Probably the stalwart arms of his father, swinging a sledge, would have battered away the rock in great chunks and freed the big bear within a short time. But he, with his lesser strength, could only gnaw at the rock face little by little.

Ten days of labor passed, and now, half a dozen times a day, the bruin came to the entrance and strove to squeeze her way out, but the passage was still not big enough. She would retire and lie down to watch and wait, although sometimes, as the wind brought to her the delightful fragrance of roots and of honey from over the woods, she would raise her big head and growl with deep impatience.

In the meantime, there could be no doubt that even her brute mind understood perfectly the service that human hands were performing for her. There was not a growl when Tommy came near her. She would come close to the entrance to the cave and lie there, just out of range of the flying chips, and observe his work with keen satisfaction. He, on his side, did all that he could to push forward their acquaintance. When he came up with fish, now, she would crowd as far out as she could, her little eyes glittering with a ferocious hunger— for the appetite of a bear is the appetite of a pig— and Tommy would feed her the fish he had captured, one by one, from his hands. He ventured at first only by holding the fish by the tail and offering the head foremost. But he grew bolder day after day. His child's mind, having seen her do no wrong, could not conceive her repaying his kindness with beast ingratitude.

So, on a day, half closing his eyes, screwing up all the courage he could summon in his shaking body, he held out a small fish on the palm of his hand—and mother bear took it away at a bite without touching the skin of his fingers! She snorted a little. That was all. Then, as he kept the trembling hand extended, she licked the last trace of the fish oil from his palm!

It was almost the greatest event in Tommy's life. For a moment he sat back incapable of speech, his heart thundering. But a little dog-like whine of eagerness from the bruin made him continue with the feeding, and from that time on every morsel she had was taken neatly from his hand.

Then—and all was ventured timidly, slowly—he tried to stroke that battered head while she ate. It was not easily done. At first, when the shadow of the hand extended over her, she winced away with a growl, her upper lip twitching back and disclosing huge fangs that could have shorn through the flesh and bone of his arm at a single snap. But, with twitching ears and quivering snout, she reached out for the fish again and this time allowed his hand to touch her head just between the little, pointed ears.

That was another great thrill, another great forward step of conquest for Tommy. Before the next day came, she was lying contentedly at the gap to her cave with Tommy Parks seated beside her— seated in fear, to be sure—stroking her great head and rubbing the loose fur, while mother bear seemed to take a profound satisfaction in his touch. But what was her pleasure compared with the wild delight of Tommy?

There he sat with two wild grizzly cubs playing on his knees, and with the huge head of mother bear dropped to the ground beside him. There he sat playing with the cubs, again, while that great head was raised and she sniffed at his back—a chill shot up his spine—at his arms and shoulders—at his neck—and snuffed strongly on his hair.

But that was all. No harm was done. Not once was her paw raised or were her teeth bared. To be sure, he knew that she had not admitted him to her confidence as the little cubs so freely admitted him, but she took him as a friend, an unmistakable ally, but for whose providence she must have starved and died there. And that, for the time being, was enough for Tommy.