The Land of Strong Men Part 24

"You were to get a commission from me."

"I told you I couldn't take one."

"Well, you won't get one," Mr. Braden snapped. "Levels! What do you know about levels? I'll get somebody that does."

But for some reason Mr. Braden did not do so.

It was nearly a week after this interview, that old Paul Sam rode up on his paint pony, leading Chief.

"Me sell um cooley kuitan," he announced.

"Who bought him?" Angus asked. For answer the old Indian drew forth from the recesses of his garment a slip of paper, which he handed to Angus.

The latter read:

"Dear Mackay: I want you to let me have the pleasure of presenting a good horse with a good owner. This, not by way of payment for the service you did me, but in token of my appreciation of kindness to a pilgrim and a stranger here. Am leaving for a few weeks, and will look you up on my return.

Faithfully,

"E. W. F. CHETWOOD.

"P. S.--Don't be a bally a.s.s. Keep the horse."

From this surprising letter Angus lifted his eyes to the big chestnut.

As he did so he realized that he had wanted him very badly. He took the lead rope from the old Indian.

"All right, Paul Sam," he said. "Thanks for bringing him over. Put your cayuse in the stable and come up to the house and have some muckamuck."

CHAPTER XIV

A FIGHT WITH A GRIZZLY

Now, though Angus was working hard under pressure, the hard part of it was not the work but the things he wanted to do and could not. Though he plugged away steadily at his tasks, his thoughts were not of them, but of lonely trails, and steep hills, and deep timber, and the surging waters tumbling down in nameless creeks from h.o.a.ry old glaciers; and he would have given all he owned if he could with a clear conscience have quit the ranch work and taken a holiday. But as he could not, he worked on grimly.

Occasionally, however, he rode the range after stock, and on these occasions he carried a rifle, on the chance of getting a shot at a deer.

Invariably now he rode Chief, who was becoming a most dependable saddle horse. And so one bright fall morning he rode along the foothills to find, if he could, a small bunch of cattle which he himself had not seen since Spring.

Shortly after mid-day he found himself near the site of an old logging camp, where several creeks united to form a muskeg, and at the foot of it a little lake. Out of the lake a larger creek ran, and across it stood the old camp buildings, now worn and weatherbeaten and roofless.

The banks were steeply cut and the old pole bridge was rotten. Therefore Angus put Chief on a rope where the grazing was good, and taking his lunch and rifle, crossed the creek, intending to eat beside an excellent spring which was better than the creek water.

He leaned his rifle against one end of the ancient bunkhouse, went the length of it, turned the corner, and came full upon a huge, old-man grizzly.

[Ill.u.s.tration: _He turned the corner, and came full upon a huge, old-man grizzly._]

The bear had been digging at a rotten stump, which strewed the ground in fragments, and the brawl of the creek had drowned whatever noise Angus had made. Thus it was a case of mutual surprise. As Angus turned the corner the bear's senses brought him warning. He turned his great, flat head, and at sight of the intruder his mane roached and bristled, and he swung about with unbelievable quickness. Being more or less penned by the wall of the eating camp and an old pole fence, he probably believed himself cornered. He half rose, with a snort, and his fierce, little eyes lit with a green flare.

Angus had had no first-hand experience with grizzlies, though he had seen them at a distance. Nevertheless, he knew a good deal about them from men who had, and his information amounted to this: The ordinary grizzly will run if he can; but if he is wounded or believes himself cornered, there is no telling just what he will do. Also there are "bad"

bears, just as there are "bad" bulls or stallions.

The bear was a complete surprise to Angus. He was so close that he could almost smell him, could see the little pieces of rotten, wet wood and slaver on his jaws, the red of his mouth and the white of his tusks all speckled with dirt from his grubbing. For a moment his heart almost stopped beating, his hair p.r.i.c.kled, and stood on end, and his knees knocked together. For an instant he stood frozen in his tracks, and then as he saw the great brown bulk gather itself he came to life and action.

With an involuntary yell he leaped into the air like a scared lynx, turned and hit the ground running.

Behind him he heard a short, coughing roar, and it nearly doubled the stretch of his stride. He made the length of the bunkhouse, turned it and grabbed for his rifle. But his fingers merely brushed the barrel and knocked it down. There was no time to pick it up. He doubled the next corner like a rabbit and after him came the grizzly, with most infernal persistence.

For a short distance a grizzly is as fast as a good pony, and all that had saved Angus was dodging around corners. But that could not go on indefinitely. The walls of the roofless bunkhouse were of logs, closely mortised, but inside he knew there were the remains of some old, double-decked bunks. It was taking a chance, but he ducked through the door opening, scrambled up on the bunks, the old poles crashing beneath him, and straddled the top log just in time to escape the swipe of a steel-garnished paw which actually brushed his leg.

From this strategic position, rather out of breath and somewhat shaky, he looked down at the grizzly, and the bear looked up at him, rumbling and grumbling to himself, his wicked, little eyes burning with unholy lights. He was a big bear, s.h.a.ggy and rough, with a sprinkle of gray in his mane, and there was no doubt that he was annoyed. As a beginning he knocked a bunk to pieces with one lift and bat of a paw, and rearing he reached for Angus. Luckily the wall was high, and the big claws raked bark and slivers below him. Not being able to reach his enemy, the bear dropped back with a grunt, and stood swinging to and fro gently.

It occurred to Angus that he might drop over the wall, get his rifle and call for a show-down, but as he waited to get back some of his breath and steadiness, meanwhile hitching along the wall to get closer to the gun, the bear shambled through the door. He trotted around the bunkhouse, and coming to the rifle sniffed at it and took a wide circle.

Perhaps he knew the smell of steel, and suspected a trap. But after prowling up and down for a few minutes eying the treed man, he did not go away, which was quite contrary to what Angus had heard of the habits of bears under similar circ.u.mstances. He lay down like a dog, apparently prepared to camp there indefinitely.

From where Angus sat he could see Chief, standing hip-shot and half asleep, quite unconscious of the bear, and he was glad that the latter was equally unconscious of the horse, for he seemed full of racial prejudice against man and his possessions. All Angus could do was wait it out. An hour pa.s.sed, and he grew weary of his position, and indignant at being forced to lie along a log like a lizard by a low-grade proposition like a bear. He tore off bark and pelted him with it. The grizzly merely eyed him evilly and sniffed at what he threw; so Angus gave it up, and more time pa.s.sed.

In spite of his position the sun and wind made him sleepy. Perhaps he dozed. He had seen and heard nothing. But suddenly as he turned his head he saw a girl a few yards away from the old eating-camp.

For a moment Angus did not believe his eyes. It seemed one of those vague visions which flit across the mental retina in that dim shadowland between wakefulness and slumber. She was looking down into the finder of a camera, while back of her, reins lying on its neck instead of a-trail, stood a pony. She was tall and straight, and a crown of hair shone to the slope of the afternoon's sun, for she was using a pony hat to shield the camera's lens.

Angus gaped and blinked, and then he knew it was no dream vision, but real flesh and blood. Just then she got her picture and took a step or two in his direction, winding up the film.

"Hi!" Angus hailed, "don't come here. Get on your pony, quick."

Being very much in earnest, voice and words were harsh, peremptory. The girl stopped short and looked around. Then for the first time she saw him perched on the wall.

"I beg your pardon!" she said, her voice carrying clear and full, a touch of hauteur in her tone answering the harshness of Angus' command.

"I'm not to come there, you say. Why not?" Her chin lifted as she spoke and she took another step forward.

"Bear!" Angus returned. "Get back, I tell you. I'm treed by a bad grizzly. Get on your pony and pull out before he sees you."

The girl stopped. "Do you mean that?" she demanded incredulously.

"Do I mean it?" Angus yelled, exasperated by her delay and frightened at her very real danger. "Get a move on you, woman, if you have any sense!

He hears you now!"

His tone left no doubt of his sincerity, and the girl, turning, ran toward her pony. But the animal, not being anch.o.r.ed by the reins, sidled away at her swift approach.

"Hurry up!" Angus shouted, for the big savage below him, hearing another voice, was bristling afresh and suddenly started around the corner of the building to investigate. Just then the pony either sighted or smelt the bear, for he snorted, wheeled and broke into a gallop. "Run!" Angus yelled. "Get behind that eating-camp. Try to climb it, quick!" And not having time for more words he dropped from his perch, lit sprawling alongside his rifle, seized it, and jumped around the corner into the open in the wake of the grizzly, his hand hooked into the lever, while a long soft-nose snicked home in the chamber.

The girl, now fully alive to her danger, was running for the corner of the eating camp, and the grizzly, halfway between, was after her. So much Angus saw at a glance, and then he caught the lumbering but swift bulk fair center with the bead, and unhooked.

With the high-pitched, smacking voice of the rifle mingled the roar of the wounded grizzly. He went heels over head like a shot rabbit, came on his feet again facing the gun, took a second bullet as if it had been a pellet of bird-shot, and coughing out a fighting roar that seemed to hold all the b.e.s.t.i.a.l ferocity of the ages, came for Angus like a furry tornado.

There is this about a grizzly which ent.i.tles him to respect: When he charges, he charges home. This fact Angus knew very well. The bear was a scant forty yards away. Angus caught the center of him with his sights, and began to pump steadily. His entire attention was concentrated on holding the sights, and otherwise the gun seemed to shoot itself.

Missing was next to impossible at that range, but so also was choice of aim. "When anything's comin' for you close up," Rennie had once advised him, "don't try to hit nowhere's special, but just hold plum' center and keep shootin'." While Angus did not consciously remember this advice, he followed it, with a dull wonder that the stream of soft-noses tearing through the great brute's vitals did not stop him. His last shot was fired at ten feet, and the hammer clicked down on an empty chamber. As the brown bulk hurled itself upon him, he lunged the rifle barrel with all his force into the yawning, white-tusked, red mouth. But as he tried to leap aside a huge paw blurred for an instant before his eyes and then blotted out the world. He went down, crushed and smothered as by the weight of mountains.