Frank at Don Carlos' Rancho
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“I’ve seen my hounds for the last time,” said Dick.
“And I’ll never put eyes on Marmion again,” chimed in Frank. “What made you send them on, Archie?”
“Now look here, fellows,” replied the latter. “We have said a hundred times that we wanted to see Old Davy, and I’d like to know if we’ll ever have a better chance than we’ve got now. Let’s follow the dogs, and when they bring us within sight of the bear, we’ll call them off. We can look at him without having a fight with him, can’t we?”
The others were by no means sure of that. Those who knew Old Davy best said that he was a quarrelsome fellow, and that he never hesitated to assault anybody who invaded his dominions. A black bear, unless driven desperate by hunger, will generally take to his heels at the sight of a human being; but Old Davy was a grizzly, and one of the most ferocious of his species. But, although the boys were well aware of all these facts, they did not hesitate to follow Archie, who, without waiting to hear what his companions had to say to his proposition, put spurs to his horse, and dashed into the bushes. They unslung their guns as they went (although they all declared that they had not the slightest intention of shooting at the bear if they came up with him), and, guided by the hoarse baying of the hounds in front, galloped through the trees, and up the side of the mountain, like a squad of cavalry on the charge.
The higher they went the more difficult the ascent became. The bushes were thick, fallen logs incumbered the ground, and the trees and saplings grew so closely together that their horses could scarcely force their way through them. It was a splendid hiding-place for a bear, and Frank could not help asking himself how many chances there were in a hundred that all of them would succeed in making their escape, if Old Davy should suddenly pounce down upon them.
After a tedious, fatiguing ride of half an hour, during which time the music of the hounds continued to ring out louder and clearer, as the trail grew warmer, they reached the top of a spur of the mountain, and were on the point of descending into the ravine on the opposite side, when Dick Thomas, who was leading the way, suddenly uttered an exclamation, and stopped his horse.
“What is it?” asked his companions in a breath.
“We’d better be getting away from here, fellows,” replied Dick, so excited that he could scarcely speak plainly. “There’s the old rascal himself.”
“Who? Where? You don’t mean Old Davy!”
The boys had talked bravely enough about meeting this dreaded monster; but now that they were close upon him, their courage began to ooze out at the ends of their fingers, and the faces they turned toward Dick were a good deal paler than usual.
“Yes, I do mean Old Davy. Don’t you see him sitting there at the foot of that mammoth oak?”
The boys looked through the trees in the direction Dick pointed, and, sure enough, there was the grizzly, scarcely more than a hundred yards distant. There could be no mistake as to his identity, for there was the bald spot on his forehead as plain as daylight. They had got themselves into a nice scrape.
That was the first thought that passed through Frank’s mind, and the next was that he would never again have a word to say about Marmion’s courage. He had never been more astonished in his life, than he was when he witnessed the actions of his favorite. The hero of a score of hard-fought battles, the dog that had been at the killing of half a dozen bears, and never once hesitated to attack the largest of them – Marmion the infallible, upon discovering Old Davy, uttered one howl of terror, and faced about and fled for dear life. The hounds followed close at his heels, and such a scrambling to get out of harm’s way Frank had never seen before. They were out of sight in an instant.
The boys had prepared themselves to see something frightful when they came within sight of Old Davy, and they were not disappointed. He was even larger and uglier than their imaginations had pictured him. He sat on his haunches at the root of a huge oak, swinging his head slowly, from side to side, and apparently unconscious of the presence of the young hunters.
“Well, fellows,” said Frank, who was the coolest one in the party, “we’ve found the old villain, and now what are we going to do with him?”
“Let’s shoot at him and run,” suggested Archie.
“If the ground was clear, and I had my own horse, I would agree to that,” replied Frank. “But don’t you know that this mountain behind us is almost impassable? What would happen to us if we should fail to kill or disable him, and our horses should become entangled in the bushes?”
“Well, we must do something very soon,” said Johnny, “for the old fellow isn’t going to sit there much longer. He is getting uneasy.”
Frank raised himself in his stirrups and took a survey of the ground before him, like a general who was about to lead his forces into action. But he had no intention of provoking a fight with their enemy. His only desire was to bring himself and companions safely out of the dangerous predicament in which they had thoughtlessly placed themselves. He was certain that when they began to retreat, the grizzly would assume the offensive; and in a race through those thick bushes, he would have a decided advantage, and might succeed in overtaking some of them.
“There is only one thing we can do,” said he, “and that is to get down to the bottom of the ravine.”
“Why, we’ll have to go right past Old Davy to get there,” said Archie.
“We can’t help that. We must reach clear ground, where we will have a fair chance for our lives, if he takes it into his head to attack us. Move in single file, boys, keep close together, and if Old Davy shows fight, we’ll give him a volley, and take to our heels.”
“That’s the way to do it,” said Dick, approvingly. “You give the commands, Frank, and then every thing will be done in order.”
The boys were, by this time, recovering from the nervousness that had been occasioned by the first sight of the grizzly; and, as their courage returned, there was more than one among them who secretly determined that he would not leave the field, until he had had at least one fair shot at the bear. They had swift horses under them, trusty weapons in their hands, and they knew that if Old Davy would keep quiet until they were well out of the bushes into clear ground, there was nothing to be afraid of.
Frank turned his horse and rode slowly down the mountain toward the bottom of the ravine, his companions following after in single file. They carried their rifles across their saddles in front of them, cocked and ready for instant use, and each boy kept his eyes fastened upon the grizzly. Old Davy watched them closely, too; and when he saw them moving about among the bushes, he raised his head and uttered an angry growl. That growl had a demoralizing effect upon the young hunters, for their line of battle was broken in an instant, and Frank’s horse made one or two frantic leaps down the mountain, almost unseating his rider. The general consternation was greatly increased when Johnny called out that the bear was coming.
“Take it easy, boys!” shouted Frank, with difficulty restraining his frightened horse. “There’s time enough. Wait till he comes out of the bushes, and fire at that bald spot on his forehead. Be sure of your aim, now.”
It required no little nerve for the young hunters to sit there in their saddles and await the onslaught of that enraged grizzly. They could not see him now, but they heard his angry growls, and saw the bushes shake and bend as he charged toward them. Presently his enormous head and shoulders emerged from a thicket scarcely more than twenty-five yards distant, and Frank gave the word.
“Ready! Aim! Fire!” he shouted.
Four shining rifle-barrels arose in line, four sights covered the bear’s head, four fingers pressed the trigger at the same instant, a roar that awoke the echoes far and near rang through the mountains, and before the smoke cleared away, four frightened horses had dashed past Old Davy, and were carrying their riders down the ravine with the speed of the wind. The boys knew that their hands trembled, but they were all good marksmen, and they were sure that at least one of the four bullets that had been fired at the grizzly’s head, had found a lodgment in some vital part; but what was their amazement, when they reached the bottom of the ravine, and turned in their saddles and looked back, to see Old Davy still on his feet, and coming down the mountain in hot pursuit, he did not appear to have been in the least injured by the storm of bullets they had rained upon him.
CHAPTER V
A RUNNING FIGHT
It was one of Dick’s sayings that bear-hunting was a “business by itself” – as much so as book-keeping or steamboating; and Frank and Archie had been in California long enough to learn that the trapper told the truth in this, as in other matters. It was a favorite pastime with the settlers in that section of the country, and the cousins had seen as many as thirty men take part in a single hunt. They were generally divided into two parties: some went in the drive – that is, they followed the hounds, and if the bear was brought to bay by them, they signaled to their companions with their hunting horns. The others were scattered about among the mountains, watching the “runaways,” and holding themselves in readiness to shoot the bear if he attempted to pass by them. This was the part our four boys always took in a bear-hunt, and they had engaged in so many during the last few weeks, that they began to consider themselves experts in the business. They had never killed a grizzly, but they could boast of having had an exciting fight with one. How it would have ended it is hard to tell. The boys were getting the worst of it (by that we mean that the bear was charging upon them, and they were running for dear life toward the place where they had left their horses), when Mr. Harris, who happened to be near at hand, came up and put an end to the fight by shooting the bear through the head. The boys afterward had reason to wish that he had stayed away a few minutes longer; for all the hunters in the settlement laughed at them, and Mr. Harris created a great deal of amusement by showing how Johnny looked when he was running through the bushes, with his coat-tails sticking straight out behind him. They defended themselves against the charge of cowardice with a good deal of spirit, and did not, by any means, acknowledge themselves whipped. They affirmed that it was their intention to draw the bear into open ground, and continue the fight on horseback; but the old hunters refused to believe this story, and the boys solemnly avowed that, if they ever got a fair chance, they would show them that they could kill a bear as well as any body. Now they had an opportunity to try their skill on Old Davy, and this was the time to make good their boasts. The result of this day’s work would be a fair test of their abilities as bear-hunters. There were no dogs to worry the grizzly, and no experienced men, with quick eyes and steady hands, to ride up and rescue them if they came to close quarters with their enemy. They had no one to depend upon but themselves; and, if they killed the bear, the glory would be all their own.
“I am going to have one more shot at that fellow before I leave him,” said Archie, with as much apparent indifference as though he was speaking of shooting at a squirrel. “He’ll never rob any more cow-pens when I am done with him.”
The boys were all wonderfully brave and reckless now that they imagined themselves safe from the claws of the grizzly: but when they reached the bottom of the ravine, and found that their situation there was not much better than it had been on the mountain-side, their courage all left them again, and they had nothing more to say about shooting Old Davy. They were really in more danger now than they had been before, for they had but one way to run. On two sides of them were precipitous cliffs, which could not be scaled on horseback; behind them was the grizzly; and in front an almost impenetrable wall of bushes shut them off from the prairie beyond. They took this all in at a glance, and, knowing that there was but one way of escape open to them, they urged their horses forward at increased speed, and dashed pell-mell into the bushes, where, a moment afterward, they found themselves brought to a dead halt. Their horses, snorting with terror, exerted themselves to the utmost, but without making any perceptible headway, and but a short distance behind them came the bear, lumbering along as easily as though the bushes, which effectually checked their progress, had been nothing more than so many straws in his way. It was a critical moment, and more than one among the young hunters gave himself up for lost. Beyond a doubt it would have been the last bear-hunt for somebody, had it not been for the coolness and courage of Frank Nelson. Seeing that the grizzly was gaining rapidly, and that he would certainly overtake them before they could work their way out of the bushes, he very deliberately slung his rifle over his shoulder, and drew one of his revolvers. Reining in his plunging, frantic horse, he faced about in his saddle, and took a deliberate aim at the bear’s head.
“Shoot close, Frank,” said Johnny, whose horse seemed to be hopelessly entangled in the bushes. “If you miss, somebody is done for.”
With almost breathless anxiety his companions awaited the result of his shot; and when the smoke of the revolver had cleared away, and Old Davy was seen struggling on the ground, the shout that went up from four pairs of strong lungs was almost deafening.
“Hurrah for the champion rifle-shot!” yelled Dick. “He’s down!”
“But he’s up again!” exclaimed Frank, “Push ahead, fellows!”
During the delay occasioned by Frank’s lucky shot, short as it was, the boys gained considerable ground; and before the grizzly was fairly on his feet again, they had worked their way out of the bushes into the bed of a creek which ran through the ravine. As the water was but a few inches deep, it formed an excellent highway; and, with another shout, the boys gave rein to their horses, which set off at a rapid gallop, leaving Old Davy far in the rear. They were safe now, and their courage rose again.
“Isn’t there any way to get the better of that fellow?” asked Archie. “If we can induce him to follow us out on the prairie, I’ll ride home after Dick Lewis. He’ll fix him.”
“Oh, he will follow us,” replied Johnny: “you need not be at all uneasy about that. I guess you haven’t learned much about grizzlies yet.”
Archie thought of the adventures he had had with these animals when he and his friends were encamped at the Old Bear’s Hole, and told himself that he had learned a good deal about them; perhaps quite as much as his friend Johnny, who had lived among them all his life.
“I declare, he’s coming now,” continued the latter, looking over his shoulder. “I don’t believe we have hurt him at all.”
The others were of the same opinion. Old Davy made headway astonishingly for an animal that had five bullets in him, and during the next ten minutes they did not gain on him more than a stone’s throw. But that did not cause them any uneasiness. They knew that the grizzly could not overtake them as long as the way was clear before them, and as they dashed along they discussed the best means of conquering their dreaded enemy. When they got him out on the prairie should they stop and fight him, or go home after the trapper? They knew that they would gain a good deal of honor, if they could exhibit the grizzly’s skin as a trophy of their prowess, but they were so much afraid of him that they did not want to permit him to come within shooting distance of them again, if they could avoid it. They did not have time, however, to come to any decision on these points, for they suddenly discovered something that drove all their plans for Old Davy’s destruction out of their minds, and turned their thoughts to a matter of much more importance – their own safety. As they swept around an abrupt bend in the creek, they found themselves brought to a standstill by a huge tree which had fallen across the ravine. Against the body of the tree was piled a mass of smaller logs and branches, which had probably lodged there during high water, the whole forming an obstruction at least seven feet in height. They could not go around it, because of the cliffs on each side; and they dared not turn back, for there was the grizzly close behind them. They were fairly cornered.
The boys became appalled when they saw the danger of their situation, and for a moment they sat in their saddles as motionless as if they had been turned into stone. Then a glance over their shoulders showed them that the grizzly still kept up the pursuit; and that once more aroused them.
“What shall we do?” asked Archie, turning his pale face toward his cousin, to whom he always looked for advice and assistance in times of danger.
Frank’s answer was not given in words. When they first discovered the obstruction in their path, they had stopped their horses, and during the half a minute of inactivity that preceded Archie’s question, Frank had taken a survey of the situation, and determined upon his course. The others knew what it was when they saw him bend forward in his saddle, and gather his reins firmly in his hand.
“You can’t do it!” Dick almost gasped. “It is too high.”
Before the words were fairly uttered, Frank’s horse was flying down the ravine at the top of his speed. For a moment the gravel and water flew about in all directions, then there was a crushing among the branches which had lodged against the body of the tree, and Frank had disappeared from view. His horse had jumped the log; and if the others could be induced to follow, the young hunters were safe.
“I did it easily enough, didn’t I?” shouted Frank, waving his hat to his companions. “Come on, fellows. It’s your only chance.”
As soon as he could stop his horse he turned to wait for the others. Then for the first time he realized how high the obstruction was – what a tremendous jump his horse must have made to carry him safely over it – and he trembled when he saw his companions preparing to follow him. As he sat in his saddle, he could just look over the log and watch their movements. A very slight accident – a single instant’s hesitation on the part of one of their horses – might result in a terrible tragedy.
Johnny was the first to take the leap. In response to a light touch from his spurs, his horse arose in the air and sailed over the log like a bird. Two of them were safe, and their courage arose again wonderfully: but now misfortunes befell them. Archie’s horse made an awkward start, and striking his fore-feet against a branch of the tree, fell rather than jumped over the obstruction, dashing his rider with stunning violence to the ground. Dick’s horse came on gallantly enough, but stopped when he reached the log, laid back his ears, and stubbornly refused to move an inch in any direction. Johnny turned white with terror, and the ramrod with which Frank was driving home a ball in his rifle, trembled like a leaf in his grasp. There was Archie lying stunned and bleeding where he had fallen, Dick on a balky horse, which only kicked viciously when his rider touched him with his spurs, and the bear close behind, and coming on as fiercely as ever.
Frank gazed in bewilderment and dismay at the scene before him, and his first impulse was to put spurs to his horse and ride away, that he might not see what would follow when the grizzly came up. But that feeling was short-lived. He knew that neither Archie nor Dick would have deserted him had he been in their situation, and if he could not save them, he would, at least, have the satisfaction of knowing that he had done what he could.
“Johnny,” he exclaimed, in a voice which to save his life he could scarcely raise above a whisper, “can you take Archie in front of you?”
“Hand him up here,” was Johnny’s reply. “I’ll take care of him.”
“Dick,” continued Frank, “jump down from that horse, and mount Archie’s.”
Dick was prompt to act upon the suggestion. He threw himself from his horse, which he sincerely hoped would stand where he was until Old Davy could get his claws upon him, tumbled over the log, and in a moment more was safe in Archie’s saddle. Frank, in the mean time, had raised his cousin from the ground, and placed him upon Johnny’s horse; and by the time the grizzly came in sight, the boys were ready to continue their flight.
“Ride for life, now, Johnny,” said Frank. “Remember that you have got a double load, and don’t spare the whip.”
“Don’t be uneasy,” was the answer. “I’ve a splendid horse, and I won’t be long” —
Another misfortune cut short Johnny’s words. If his horse was a splendid animal, he was also a most vicious one, and he did not like to carry double. No sooner did he feel Archie’s weight on his back, than he set off at a furious pace, and suddenly throwing down his head, sent both his heels high into the air. Johnny, being an excellent horseman, and always on the watch for such eccentricities, would have had no difficulty in retaining his seat, had not the saddlegirth parted with a loud snap, throwing him and Archie headlong to the ground.
“Did any body ever hear of such luck!” growled Johnny, who was on his feet almost as soon as he touched the ground. “Come here, Dick; you’ll have to take him now.”
He gave one parting glance at his horse, which was flying down the ravine, and then raised his insensible companion in his arms, and ran toward Dick, who galloped up to meet him. The former took the wounded hunter upon his horse and continued his flight, while Johnny picked up his gun, and drew a bee-line for the nearest tree.
While this was going on, Frank had finished loading his rifle, and dismounted from his horse, and was now standing in front of the log, awaiting the approach of the grizzly, and ready to carry out his self-imposed task of covering the retreat of the others. In one hand he held his bridle, and in the other his trusty weapon, which he raised to his shoulder now and then, as he caught sight of the grizzly through the branches of the tree. He knew that every thing depended upon the result of this shot, and he was resolved that he would not fire until a fair mark was presented. He tried to argue himself into the belief that Old Davy was a squirrel, and that he could easily put a ball into one of his eyes at a distance of fifty yards. He recalled to mind some of the excellent shots he had made during the last few days, and tried hard to keep up his courage by telling himself that it was seldom indeed that he missed his mark. Still he did miss sometimes, and what would be the result if he missed now? His life would not be worth a moment’s purchase. He would not have time to mount before the grizzly would be close upon him. But even if he did succeed in making his escape, how far could Dick’s horse carry his double load before he would be overtaken? Once more Frank raised his rifle, and just at that moment Old Davy’s head and shoulders appeared above the log, not more than ten feet distant. His mouth was open, showing a frightful array of teeth, his ears were laid back close to his head, his eyes seemed to shoot forth angry sparks of fire, and, altogether, his appearance was enough to shake the strongest nerves. But Frank’s were as firm as a rock. The trusty rifle was held as steadily as though it were a part of him it had served so long and faithfully; and just as the grizzly’s fore-feet touched the ground, a sharp report rang through the ravine, and for an instant the smoke concealed both hunter and bear from the view of Johnny, who, from his perch in a neighboring tree, had watched all that was going on before him with breathless anxiety. When the smoke cleared away he saw Frank standing erect and unharmed, and Old Davy lying motionless where he had fallen. Frank’s bullet had reached its mark.
CHAPTER VI
DON CARLOS’ RANCHO
Old Davy, the terror of the country, the destroyer of dogs, and winner of goodness knows how many desperate battles – Old Davy the invincible – had met his match at last in Frank Nelson, a boy of sixteen. The young hunter had long enjoyed an enviable reputation, dating as far back as his desperate fight with the moose, which had taken place during the previous winter, while he and Archie were sojourning at Uncle Joe’s cabin. Since that time he had been the hero of as many scrapes as a boy of his age could well get into. He had been lost on the prairie; stampeded with a herd of buffaloes; passed a night in the camp of a band of blood-thirsty outlaws, who stole his horse and threatened to tie him to a tree and leave him to the mercy of the wolves; had three desperate encounters with a highwayman, and been captured at last and held as a prisoner by him; and in all these trying situations he had shown that he possessed a wonderful degree of courage, and had always conducted himself in a way to draw forth the highest praise from his friends the trappers. But all his former exploits were as nothing compared with the feat he had just accomplished. He had a reputation now that any farmer in that country would have been proud to possess. He would be pointed out as the one who had killed a monster which had held his own against all the men and dogs that could be brought against him; and when he heard old bear-hunters recounting their adventures, and boasting of their achievements, he could hold his head as high as any of them.