but before that winter closed, ay, before it began, a great victory was gained, which merits special mention here. let us retrace our steps a little.
one morning, while ian macdonald was superintending the preparation of breakfast in some far-away part of the western wilderness, and michel rollin was cutting firewood, victor ravenshaw came rushing into camp with the eager announcement that he had seen the footprints of an enormous grizzly bear!
at any time such news would have stirred the blood of ian, but at that time, when the autumn was nearly over, and hope had almost died in the breast of our scholastic backwoodsman, the news burst upon him with the thrilling force of an electric shock.
“now, ian, take your gun and go in and win,” said victor with enthusiasm, for the youth had been infected with rollin’s spirit of gallantry.
“you see,” rollin had said to victor during a confidential tête-à-tête, “ven a lady is in de case ye must bow de head. ian do love your sister. ver goot. your sister do vish for a bar-claw collar. ver goot. vell, de chance turn up at last—von grizzly bar do appear. who do shot ’im? vy, ian, certaintly. mais, it is pity he am so ’bominibly bad shot!”
victor, being an unselfish fellow, at once agreed to this; hence his earnest advice that ian should take his gun and go in and win. but ian shook his head.
“my dear boy,” he said, with a sigh, “it’s of no use my attempting to shoot a bear, or anything else. i don’t know what can be wrong with my vision, i can see as clear and as far as the best of you, and i’m not bad, you’ll allow, at following up a trail over hard ground; but when it comes to squinting along the barrel of a gun i’m worse than useless. it’s my belief that if i took aim at a haystack at thirty yards i’d miss it. no, vic, i must give up the idea of shooting altogether.”
“what! have you forgotten the saying, ‘faint heart never won fair lady?’” exclaimed victor, in surprise.
“nay, lad, my memory is not so short as that, neither is my heart as faint as you seem to think it. i do intend to go in and win, but i shall do it after a fashion of my own, vic.”
rollin, who came up at the moment and flung a bundle of sticks on the fire, demanded to know what “vas the vashion” referred to.
“that i won’t tell you at present, boys,” said ian; “but, if you have any regard for me, you’ll make me a solemn promise not in any way to interfere with me or my plans unless you see me in actual and imminent danger of losing my life.”
“jus’ so,” said rollin, with a nod, “ye vill not step in to de reskoo till you is at de very last gasp.”
having obtained the requisite promise, ian set off with his comrades to examine the bear’s track. there could be but one opinion as to the size of the grizzly which had made it. as victor had said, it was enormous, and showed that the animal had wandered about hither and thither, as if it had been of an undecided temperament. moreover the track was quite fresh.
of course there was much eager conversation about it among the friends; carried on in subdued tones and whispers, as if they feared that the bear might be listening in a neighbouring bush. after discussing the subject in every point of view, and examining the tracks in every light, they returned to the camp, at victor’s suggestion, to talk it over more fully, and make preparations for the hunt. ian, however, cut short their deliberations by reminding his comrades of their promise, and claiming the strict fulfilment of it.
“if this thing is to be undertaken by me,” he said, “i must have it all my own way and do the thing entirely by myself.”
“nobody objects to your having it all your own way,” retorted victor, somewhat testily, “but why should you be so secret about it? why not give a fellow some sort of idea what your plan is, so that, if we can’t have the pleasure of helping you, we may at least enjoy the comfort of thinking about it?”
“no, vic, no. i won’t give you a hint, because my plan is entirely new, and you would laugh at it; at least it is new to me, for i never heard of its having been attempted with grizzlies before, though i have heard of it in connection with other bears. besides, i may fail, in which case the less that is known about my failure the better. only this much will i say, the idea has been suggested to me by the formation of the land hereabouts. you know there is a gap or pass in the rocks just ahead of us, through which the bear seems to have passed more than once in the course of his rambles. well, that gap is the spot where i will make my attempt. if you follow me to that gap i will at once return to camp and let you manage the matter yourselves.”
“well, well, do as you please,” said victor, with a laugh, “and the sooner you set about it the better. rollin and i will ride away some miles in the opposite direction and see if we can’t get hold of a wild goose for supper.”
“ha! perhaps de grizzly vill get hold of anoder and a vilder goose for supper,” said rollin, with a shake of his head.
when his companions had departed, ian macdonald cleaned his gun carefully and loaded with ball; then placing his axe in his belt beside his scalping-knife, he proceeded with long and rapid strides towards the gap or pass above referred to. the bear’s track led through this pass, which was a narrow cut, not more than thirty feet wide, in a steep rocky ridge with which the country at that place was intersected for a considerable distance. the ridge itself, and the pass by which it was divided, were thickly covered with trees and dense undergrowth.
the floor of the pass was level, although rugged, and the rocks on either side rose in a sheer precipice, so that whoever should attempt to penetrate without wings to the region beyond must needs go by that narrow cut.
arrived at the middle of the pass, where it was narrowest, ian leant his gun against the precipice on one side, took off his coat, tucked up his sleeves, grasped his axe, and attacked a mighty tree. like ulysses of old, he swung the axe with trenchant power and skill. huge chips flew circling round. ere long a goodly tree creaked, groaned, and finally fell with a crash upon the ground. it was tough work. ian heaved a sigh of satisfaction and wiped his streaming brow as he surveyed the fallen monarch. there was another king of the same size near to the opposite precipice, which he felled in the same way. both monarchs mingled and severely injured their royal heads in the middle of the pass, which thus became entirely blocked up, for our woodsman had so managed that the trees fell right across it.
next, ian attacked the united heads, and with great labour hewed a passage through them, near to a spot where a large boulder lay. selecting another forest king, ian cut it so that one end of it fell on the boulder. the result of all this hewing and guiding of the falling monarchs was that the only available track through the pass was a hole about four feet in diameter, with a tree of great weight suspended above it by the boulder.
to chop off the branches and convert this latter tree into a log did not take long. neither did it take much time or exertion to fashion a sort of support, or trigger, in the shape of a figure 4, immediately under the log, so as to obstruct the hole before mentioned. but to lower the log gently from the boulder on to this trigger without setting it off was a matter of extreme difficulty, requiring great care and much time, for the weight of the log was great, and if it should once slip to the ground, ten ian macdonalds could not have raised it up again. it was accomplished at last, however, and several additional heavy logs were leaned upon the main one to increase its weight.
“if he returns this way at all, he will come in the evening,” muttered ian to himself, as he sat down on a stump and surveyed his handiwork with a smile of satisfaction. “but perhaps he may not come back till morning, in which case i shall have to watch here all night, and those impatient geese in the camp will be sure to disturb us on the plea that they feared i had been killed—bah! and perhaps he won’t come at all!”
this last idea was not muttered; it was only thought, but the thought banished the smile of satisfaction from ian’s face. in a meditative mood he took up his gun, refreshed the priming and slightly chipped the flint, so as to sharpen its edge and make sure of its striking fire.
by that time it was long past noon, and the hunter was meditating the propriety of going to a neighbouring height to view the surrounding country, when a slight noise attracted his attention. he started, cocked his gun, glared round in all directions, and held his breath.
the noise was not repeated. gradually the frown of his brows melted, the glare of his eyes abated, the tension of his muscles was relaxed, and his highly-wrought feelings escaped in a long-drawn sigh.
“pshaw ’twas nothing. no bear in its senses would roam about at such an hour, considering the row i have been kicking up with hacking and crashing. come, i’ll go to the top of that crag, and have a look round.”
he put on his coat and belt, stuck his axe and knife into the latter, shouldered his gun, and went nimbly up the rocky ascent on his left.
coming out on a clear spot at the crag which had attracted him, he could see the whole pass beneath him, except the spot where his trap had been laid. that portion was vexatiously hidden by an intervening clump of bushes. next moment he was petrified, so to speak, by the sight of a grizzly bear sauntering slowly down the pass as if in the enjoyment of an afternoon stroll.
no power on earth—except, perhaps, a glance from elsie—could have unpetrified ian macdonald at that moment. he stood in the half-crouching attitude of one about to spring over the cliff—absolutely motionless—with eyes, mouth, and nostrils wide open, as if to afford free egress to his spirit.
not until the bear had passed slowly out of sight behind the intervening bushes was he disenchanted. then, indeed, he leaped up like a startled deer, turned sharp round, and bounded back the way he had come, with as much caution and as little noise as was compatible with such vigorous action.
before he had retraced his steps ten yards, however, he heard a crash! well did he know what had caused it. his heart got into his threat somehow. swallowing it with much difficulty, he ran on, but a roar such as was never uttered by human lungs almost stopped his circulation. a few seconds brought ian within view of his trap, and what a sight presented itself!
a grizzly bear, which seemed to him the hugest, as it certainly was at that moment the fiercest, that ever roamed the rocky mountains, was struggling furiously under the weight of the ponderous tree, with its superincumbent load of logs. the monster had been caught by the small of the back—if such a back can be said to have possessed a small of any kind—and its rage, mingled as it must have been with surprise, was awful to witness.
the whole framework of the ponderous trap trembled and shook under the influence of the animal’s writhings. heavy though it was, the bear shook it so powerfully at each spasm of rage, that it was plainly too weak to hold him long. in the event of his breaking out, death to the trapper was inevitable.
ian did not hesitate an instant. his chief fear at the moment was that his comrades at the camp might have heard the roaring—distant though they were from the spot—and might arrive in time to spoil, by sharing, his victory.
victory? another struggle such as that, and victory would have rested with the bear! ian resolved to make sure work. he would put missing out of the question. the tremendous claws that had already worked a small pit in the earth reminded him of the collar and of elsie. leaping forward, he thrust the point of his gun into the ear of the infuriated animal and pulled the trigger. he was almost stunned by the report and roar, together with an unwonted shock that sent him reeling backward.
we know not how a good twist-barrelled gun would behave if its muzzle were thus stopped, but the common indian gun used on this occasion was not meant to be thus treated. it was blown to pieces, and ian stood gazing in speechless surprise at the fragment of wood remaining in his hand. how far it had injured the bear he could not tell, but the shot had not apparently abated its power one jot, for it still heaved upwards in a paroxysm of rage, and with such force as nearly to overthrow the complex erection that held it down. evidently there was no time to lose.
ian drew his axe, grasped it with both hands, raised himself on tiptoe, and brought it down with all his might on the bear’s neck.
the grizzly bear is noted for tenacity of life. ian had not hit the neck-bone. instead of succumbing to the tremendous blow, it gave the handle of the axe a vicious twist with its paw, which jerked the hunter violently to the ground. before he could recover himself, the claws which he coveted so much were deep in his right thigh. his presence of mind did not forsake him even then. drawing his scalping-knife, he wrenched himself round, and twice buried the keen weapon to the haft in the bear’s side.
just then an unwonted swimming sensation came over ian; his great strength seemed suddenly to dissipate, and the bear, the claw collar, even elsie, faded utterly from his mind.
the stars were shining brightly in the calm sky, and twinkling with pleasant tranquillity down upon his upturned countenance when consciousness returned to ian macdonald.
“ah, vic!” he murmured, with a long sad sigh; “i’ve had such a splendid dream!”
“come, that’s right, old boy. here, have another mouthful,” said victor, holding a tin can to his friend’s lips. “it’s only tea, hot and strong—the best thing in the world to refresh a wounded man; and after such a fight—”
“what!” exclaimed ian, starting and sitting bolt upright, while he gazed in the faces of his two comrades. “is it true? have i killed the—the—grizzly?”
“killed him!” exclaimed victor, rising; “i should think you have.”
“killed ’im!” echoed rollin. “you’s killed ’im two or tree time over; vy, you’s axed ’im, stabbed ’im, shotted ’im, busted ’im, squashed ’im—ho!—”
“am i much damaged?” inquired ian, interrupting, for he felt weak.
“oh! no—noting whatsocomever. only few leetil holes in you’s legs. be bedder in a veek.”
“look here,” said victor, kneeling beside the wounded man and presenting to him a piece of wood on which were neatly arranged a row of formidable claws. “i knew you would like to see them.”
“how good of you, vic! it was thoughtful of you, and kind. put them down before me—a little nearer—there,—so.”
ian gazed in speechless admiration. it was not that he was vain of the achievement; he was too sensible and unselfish for that; but it was such a pleasure to think of being able, after all, and in spite of his bad shooting, to present elsie with a set of claws that were greatly superior to those given to her mother by louis lambert—the finest, in short, that he had ever seen.
