Part 11 (2/2)
Horrified at the sight, which the hunter interpreted as a desperate charge upon the part of the bear, the city Nimrod delivered one wild shot and then fled for his life, as he thought.
This stampeded the entire hunt, and the terrified men fled as fast as their legs could carry them until they left the spot far behind.
It was a question whether the frantic beast tried harder to get away from the hunters, or they from him.
In the village grocery the stories that were told that night made the small boy's hair stand up with fright and his blood run cold with fear.
As for Black Bruin, with his wounded paw upon which he limped painfully, and with his bleeding scalp, he concluded that the part of the country in which he had made his home for several months, was no place for him, so before another sunrise he put many miles between himself and the scene of his narrow escape from the hunters.
Nor did this one night's journey calm his fear. Night after night he fled, always going in the same direction, which, as he fled northward, carried him farther and farther into the wilderness.
At last in a wild country of rugged mountains and deep, thickly wooded valleys, where the habitat of man seemed far distant, he ceased his flight.
There in the wilderness, where lumbermen alone penetrated, Black Bruin denned up and slept away his fifth winter. His bed was made deep under the top of a fallen hemlock, where the snow drifted above him and covered him with soft white blankets. The only evidence that the outer world had that a bear was sleeping beneath was a small hole in the snow kept open by the warm breath of the sleeper.
CHAPTER XI
A PLEASANT COMPANION
When Black Bruin awoke from his long sleep, stretched himself, and sallied forth into the open world, the first faint touch of red was appearing upon the soft maples. Buds upon the other trees had not started and there were yet suggestions of the chill of melting snow-banks upon the air. The tones of the forest were still somber, light gray-green or ash color, suggesting the funeral pile of the last year.
If the sun shone brightly for an hour, there might come a dash of hail the next and a chilling blast of wind that seemed to r.e.t.a.r.d the oncoming spring for a whole month.
Life hung in the balance, the seasons coquetted, gray-haired old Winter trifling and flirting with the warm, blus.h.i.+ng, sweet-breathed Spring.
The awakening had not yet come. It might come the next week, or, if the spring was exceptionally late, it might not come until the next month.
In accordance with his usual spring custom Black Bruin fasted for several days, eating only gra.s.ses, buds and roots. This satisfied him until the thick layers of fat, with which he had come forth from his winter sleep, disappeared and then he became ravenous, ”as ravenous as a wolf,” as the proverb says.
He hunted mice persistently, but mice seemed not to be as plentiful in the wilderness as they were nearer civilization. Squirrels also were not as numerous here as nearer the abode of man.
Most people, when they go to the great woods, expect to find them teeming with all kinds of life, and are much disappointed to find that song-birds and squirrels are decidedly more plentiful in their home village than in the wilderness. Many of the birds and smaller animals are social little creatures and love to be near the abode of man, while others live upon the scatterings which agriculture deigns not to pick up.
One day Black Bruin was following along the banks of a good-sized stream, looking for frogs, or anything, for that matter, which might fit into a bear menu, when to his great astonishment he discovered another bear, not as large as himself, sitting upon a flat rock a few feet from the sh.o.r.e, watching the stream intently. Black Bruin had never seen any of his kind before and a feeling of curiosity and friendly inquiry came over him. He did not go at once to make the acquaintance of the stranger, but kept very quiet and watched to see what she was doing.
[Ill.u.s.tration: HE DISCOVERED ANOTHER BEAR WATCHING THE STREAM]
He did not have long to wait, for a gust of wind soon dropped a bit of bark upon the stream near the crouching bear. There was a spray of water, and a flash of the silver sides of the salmon as it darted to the surface. Then the bear on the rock reached down with her paw and, with a lightning-like motion, batted the fish out of the water and well up on the bank.
Black Bruin, during his year of wild life, had found several dead fish, which he had eaten with great relish. So, without waiting to consider that the prize did not belong to him, he started out of the bushes for it.
But the real fisherman rushed at him with such ferocity that he quickly retreated to cover and sat watching while she killed the fish.
When it had been dispatched, the lucky fisherman took it in her mouth and went away into the woods with the prize. Black Bruin followed at a distance, smelling of the bushes, where the fish brushed in pa.s.sing, leaving a tantalizing scent.
Finally, the bear with the fish stopped under some spruces and began eating it.
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