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You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: The Life Story of a Black Bear - -Author: Harry Perry Robinson - -Release Date: September 19, 2017 [EBook #55583] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LIFE STORY OF A BLACK BEAR *** - - - - -Produced by Mhairi Hindle and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class="transnote"> -<p class="title5">Transcriber’s Note</p> -<p>Illustrations have been moved near to the text they illustrate -and linked to the List of Illustrations. Chapters have been linked to the Table -of Contents. <span class="ebookhide">Select “Enlarge” to access a larger version of the image.</span></p> - -<p>All variant spellings and variant hyphenation have been preserved. -However, punctuation has been corrected where necessary.</p> -</div> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<a name="image_1" id="image_1"></a> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="500" height="800" alt="Cover" /> -</div> -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<a name="image_2" id="image_2"></a> -<img src="images/i002.jpg" width="500" height="500" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"> -<p class="caption">HOW I TUMBLED DOWNHILL.</p> -</div> -<p class="centerref">[<a href="images/i002-l.jpg">Enlarge</a>]</p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_i" id="Page_i">[i]</a></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> -<img src="images/i003.jpg" width="400" height="600" alt="Title Page" /> -</div> -<hr class="chap" /> - -<h1>THE LIFE STORY OF <br /> -<span class="title2">A BLACK BEAR</span></h1> - -<p class="title3">BY</p> - -<p class="title4">H. PERRY ROBINSON</p> - -<p class="title5">LONDON</p> -<p class="title5">ADAM·&·CHARLES·BLACK</p> -<p class="title5">1913</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_ii" id="Page_ii">[ii]</a></span></p> - - - -<h2>FOREWORD</h2> - -<p class="foreword"><span class="smcap">There</span> is always tragedy when man invades the solitudes of the -earth, for his coming never fails to mean the destruction of the -wild things. But, surely, nowhere can the pathos be greater than -when, in the western part of North America, there is a discovery -of new gold-diggings. Then from all points of the compass men -come pouring into the mountains with axe and pick, gold-pan and -rifle, breaking paths through the forest wildernesses, killing and -driving before them the wild animals that have heretofore held -the mountains for their own.</p> - -<p class="foreword">Here in these rocky, tree-clad fastnesses the bears have kinged -it for centuries, ruling in right of descent for generation after -generation, holding careless dominion over the coyote and the -beaver, the wapiti, the white-tailed and the mule-eared deer. -Except for the occasional rebellion of a mutinous lieutenant of a -puma, there has been none to dispute their lordship from year to -year and century to century. Each winter they have laid themselves -down (or sat themselves up—for a bear does not lie down -when hibernating) to sleep through the bitter months, in easy -assurance that when they awoke they would find the sceptre still -by their side.</p> - -<p class="foreword">But a spring comes when they issue from their winter lairs -and new sounds are borne to them on the keen, resin-scented -mountain air. The hills ring to the chopping of axes; and the -voices of men—a new and terrible sound—reach their ears. The -earth, soft with the melting snows, shows unaccustomed prints of -heavy heels. The coyote and the deer and all the forest folk -have gone; the beaver-dams are broken, and the builders vanished.</p> - -<p class="foreword">Dimly wondering at the strangeness of it all, the bears go -forth, blundering and half awake, down the new-made pathways, -not angry, but curious and perplexed, and by the trail-side they -meet man—man with a rifle in his hand. And, still not angry, -still only wondering and fearing nothing—for are they not lords -of all the mountain-sides?—they die.</p> - - -<p class="signed">H. P. R.</p> - - - -<p class="crightfront"><i>First published September, 1905</i></p> - -<p class="crightfront"><i>Reissued Autumn, 1910; reprinted July, 1913</i></p> -<hr class="chap" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii">[iii]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<a name="contents" id="contents"></a><h2>CONTENTS</h2> -<table class="toc" summary="Contents"> - -<tr> -<td align="right"><span class="small">CHAPTER</span></td> -<td> </td> -<td align="right"><span class="small">PAGE</span></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td align="right"><abbr title="1">I.</abbr></td> -<td align="left">HOW I TUMBLED DOWNHILL</td> -<td align="right"> -<a href="#chap_1" title="Go to Chapter 1.">1</a> -</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td align="right"><abbr title="2">II.</abbr></td> -<td align="left">CUBHOOD DAYS</td> -<td align="right"> -<a href="#chap_2" title="Go to Chapter 2.">9</a> -</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td align="right"><abbr title="3">III.</abbr></td> -<td align="left">THE COMING OF MAN</td> -<td align="right"> -<a href="#chap_3" title="Go to Chapter 3.">25</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td align="right"><abbr title="4">IV.</abbr></td> -<td align="left">THE FOREST FIRE</td> -<td align="right"> -<a href="#chap_4" title="Go to Chepter 4.">39</a> -</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td align="right"><abbr title="5">V.</abbr></td> -<td align="left">I LOSE A SISTER</td> -<td align="right"> -<a href="#chap_5" title="Go to Chapter 5.">57</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td align="right"><abbr title="6">VI.</abbr></td> -<td align="left">LIFE IN CAMP</td> -<td align="right"> -<a href="#chap_6" title="Go to Chapter 6.">71</a> -</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td align="right"><abbr title="7">VII.</abbr></td> -<td align="left">THE PARTING OF THE WAYS</td> -<td align="right"> -<a href="#chap_7" title="Go to Chapter 7.">93</a> -</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td align="right"><abbr title="8">VIII.</abbr></td> -<td align="left">ALONE IN THE WORLD</td> -<td align="right"> -<a href="#chap_8" title="Go to Chapter 8.">105</a> -</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td align="right"><abbr title="9">IX.</abbr></td> -<td align="left">I FIND A COMPANION</td> -<td align="right"> -<a href="#chap_9" title="Go to Chapter 9.">120</a> -</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td align="right"><abbr title="10">X.</abbr></td> -<td align="left">A VISIT TO THE OLD HOME</td> -<td align="right"> -<a href="#chap_10" title="Go to Chapter 10.">134</a> -</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td align="right"><abbr title="11">XI.</abbr></td> -<td align="left">THE TROUBLES OF A FATHER</td> -<td align="right"> -<a href="#chap_11" title="Go to Chapter 11.">147</a> -</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td align="right"><abbr title="12">XII.</abbr></td> -<td align="left">WIPING OUT OLD SCORES</td> -<td align="right"> -<a href="#chap_12" title="Go to Chapter 12.">163</a> -</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td align="right"><abbr title="13">XIII.</abbr></td> -<td align="left">THE TRAP</td> -<td align="right"> -<a href="#chap_13" title="Go to Chapter 13.">176</a> -</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td align="right"><abbr title="14">XIV.</abbr></td> -<td align="left">IN THE HANDS OF MAN</td> -<td align="right"> -<a href="#chap_14" title="Go to Chapter 14.">194</a> -</td> -</tr> -</table> -<hr class="chap" /> -</div> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv">[iv]</a></span></p> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> - -<table class="loi" summary="List of Illustrations"> - -<tr> -<td align="left" class="inblk">‘HOW I TUMBLED DOWNHILL’</td> -<td align="right"><a href="#image_2" title="Go to frontispiece."><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td align="left"> </td> -<td align="right"><span class="small">FACING PAGE</span></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td align="left" class="inblk">‘THE FATHER BEAR ASKED MY FATHER IF WE WERE NOT GOING TOO’</td> -<td align="right"><a href="#image_3" title="Go to page 49.">49</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td align="left" class="inblk">‘SLOWLY, YARD BY YARD, SHE WAS BEING DRAGGED AWAY FROM US’</td> -<td align="right"><a href="#image_4" title="Go to page 64.">64</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td align="left" class="inblk">‘AS I APPEARED THE YOUNG ONES RAN AND SNUGGLED UP TO HER’</td> -<td align="right"><a href="#image_5" title="Go to page 113.">113</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td align="left" class="inblk">‘SHE SAW ME, AND SAT UP AND LOOKED AT ME AMICABLY’</td> -<td align="right"><a href="#image_6" title="Go to page 128.">128</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td align="left" class="inblk">‘FROM THE MOMENT THAT I THREW MYSELF ON HIM HE NEVER HAD TIME TO BREATHE’</td> -<td align="right"><a href="#image_7" title="Go to page 177.">177</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td align="left" class="inblk">‘IT WAS EVIDENTLY A TRAP’</td> -<td align="right"><a href="#image_8" title="Go to page 192.">192</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td align="left" class="inblk">‘BY STANDING ON HER BACK I WAS ABLE TO SEE OVER’</td> -<td align="right"><a href="#image_1" title="Go to cover."><i>On cover</i></a></td> -</tr> -</table> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="htitle">THE BLACK BEAR</h2> - -<h2> -<a name="chap_1" id="chap_1"></a> -<a href="#contents" class="chapref" title="Return to Table of Contents.">CHAPTER <abbr title="1">I</abbr></a> <br /> - -<span class="stitle">HOW I TUMBLED DOWNHILL</span></h2> - - -<p><span class="smcap">It</span> is not easy for one to believe that he ever was -a cub. Of course, I know that I was, and as it was -only nine years ago I ought to remember it fairly -clearly. None the less, hundreds and hundreds of -times I have looked at my own cubs, and said -to myself: ‘Surely, I can never have been like -that!’</p> - -<p>It is not so much a mere matter of size, although -it is doubtful if any young bear realizes how small -he is. My father and mother seemed enormous to -me, but, on the other hand, my sister was smaller -than I, and perhaps the fact that I could always -box her ears when I wanted to, gave me an exaggerated -idea of my own importance. Not that -I did it very often, except when she used to bite -my hind-toes. Every bear, of course, likes to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span> -chew his own feet, for it is one of the most soothing -and comforting things in the world; but it is -horrid to have anyone else come up behind you, -when you are asleep, and begin to chew your feet -for you. And that was what Kahwa—that was -my sister, my name being Wahka—was always -doing, and I simply <em>had to</em> slap her well whenever -she did. It was the only way to stop her.</p> - -<p>But, as I said, cubhood is not a matter of size -only. As I look down at this glossy black coat of -mine, it is hard to believe that it was ever a dirty -light brown in colour, and all ridiculous wool and -fluff, as young cubs’ coats are. But I must have -been fluffy, because I remember how my mother, -after she had been licking me for any length of -time, used to be obliged to stop and wipe the fur -out of her mouth with the back of her paw, just as -my wife did later on when she licked our cubs. -Every time my mother had to wipe her mouth she -used to try to box my ears, so that when she -stopped licking me, I, knowing what was coming -next, would tuck my head down as far as it would -go between my legs, and keep it there till she -began licking again.</p> - -<p>Yes, when I stop to think, I know, from many -things, that I must have been just an ordinary cub.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span> -For instance, my very earliest recollection is of -tumbling downhill.</p> - -<p>Like all bears, I was born and lived on the -hillside. In the Rocky Mountains, where my -home was, there is nothing but hills, or mountains, -for miles and miles, so that you can wander on for -day after day, always going up one side of a hill -and down the other, and up and down again; and -at the bottom of almost every valley there is a -stream or river, which for most of the year swirls -along noisily and full of water. Towards the end -of summer, however, the streams nearly dry up, -just trickling along in places over their rocky -beds, and you can splash about in them almost -anywhere. The mountains are covered with trees—gorgeous -trees, such as I have never seen anywhere -else—with great straight trunks, splendid -for practising climbing, shooting away up into the -sky before the branches begin. Towards the summits -of the bigger mountains the trees become -smaller and grow wider apart, and if you go up -to one of these and look around you, you can see -nothing but a sea of dark-green tree-tops, rolling -down into the valley and up the opposite slopes on -all sides of you, with here and there the peaks -of the highest mountains standing against the sky<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span> -bare and rocky, with streaks and patches of snow -clinging to them all through the summer. Oh, it -was beautiful!</p> - -<p>In the winter the whole country is covered with -snow many feet deep, which, as it falls, slides off -the hillsides, and is drifted by the wind into the -valleys and hollows till the smaller ones are filled -up nearly to the tops of the trees. But bears do -not see much of that, for when the first snow -comes we get into our dens and go half asleep, -and stay hibernating till springtime. And you -have no idea how delightful hibernating is, nor -how excruciatingly stiff we are when we wake up, -and how hungry!</p> - -<p>The snow lies over everything for months, until -in the early spring the warm west winds begin to -blow, melting the snow from one side of the mountains. -Then the sun grows hotter and hotter day -by day, and helps to melt it until most of the -mountain slopes are clear; but in sheltered places -and in the bottoms of the little hollows the snow -stays in patches till far into the summer. We -bears come out from our winter sleep when the -snow is not quite gone, when the whole earth -everywhere is still wet with it, and the streams, -swollen with floods, are bubbling and boiling along<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span> -so that the air is filled with the noise of them by -night and day.</p> - -<p>Our home was well up one of the hillsides, -where two huge cedar-trees shot up side by side -close by a jutting mass of rock. In between the -roots of the trees and under the rock was as good -a house as a family of bears could want—roomy -enough for all four of us, perfectly sheltered, and -hidden and dry. Can you imagine how warm and -comfy it was when we were all snuggled in there, -with our arms round each other, and our faces -buried in each other’s fur? Anyone looking in -would have seen nothing but a huge ball of black -and brown fluff.</p> - -<p>It was from just outside the door that I tumbled -downhill.</p> - -<p>It must have been early in the year, because the -ground was still very wet and soft, and the gully -at the bottom full of snow. Of course, if I had -not been a cub I should never have fallen, for big -bears do not tumble downhill. If by any chance -anything did start one, and he found he could not -stop himself, he would know enough to tuck in his -head and paws out of harm’s way; but I only -knew that somehow, in romping with Kahwa, I -had lost my balance, and was going—goodness<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span> -knew where! I went all spread out like a squirrel, -first on my head, then on my back, then on -my tummy, clutching at everything that I passed, -slapping the ground with my outstretched paws, -and squealing for help. Bump! bang! slap! -bump! I went, hitting trees and thumping all the -wind out of me against the earth, and at last—souse -into the snow!</p> - -<p>Wow-ugh!<a name="Anchor-1" id="Anchor-1"></a><a href="#Footnote-1" class="fnanchor" title="Go to footnote 1.">[1]</a> -How cold and wet it was! And -it was deep—so deep, indeed, that I was buried -completely out of sight; and I doubt if I should -ever have got out alive had not my mother come -down and dug me out with her nose and paws. -Then she half pushed and half smacked me uphill -again, and when I got home I was the wettest, -coldest, sorest, wretchedest bear-cub in the Rocky -Mountains.</p> - -<p>Then, while I lay and whimpered, my mother -spent the rest of the day licking me into the semblance -of a respectable bearkin again. But I was -bruised and nervous for days afterwards.</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span></p> -<p>That tumble of mine gave us the idea of the -game which Kahwa and I used to play almost -every day after that. Kahwa would take her -stand with her back against the rock by our door, -just at the point where the hill went off most -steeply, and it was my business to come charging -up the hill at her and try to pull her down. What -fun it was! Sometimes I was the one to stand -against the rock, and Kahwa tried to pull me -down. She could not do it; but she was plucky, -and used to come at me so ferociously that I often -wondered for a minute whether it was only play or -whether she was really angry.</p> - -<p>Best of all was when mother used to play with -us. Then she put her back to the rock, and we -both attacked her at once from opposite sides, each -trying to get hold of a hind-leg just above the -foot. If she put her head down to pretend to bite -either of us, the other jumped for her ear. Sometimes -we would each get hold of an ear, and hang -on as hard as we could, while she pretended we -were hurting her dreadfully, growling and shaking -her head, and making as much fuss as she could; -but if in our excitement either of us did chance to -bite a little too hard, we always knew it. With a -couple of cuffs, hard enough to make us yelp, she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span> -would throw us to one side and the other, and -there was no more play for that day. And mother -could hit hard when she liked. I have seen her -smack father in a way that would have broken all -the bones in a cub’s body, and killed any human -being outright.</p> - -<p>Father did not romp with us as much as mother. -He was more serious, but, on the other hand, he -did not lose his temper nearly so quickly. She -used to get angry with him over nothing, and I -think he was afraid of her. And it was just the -same later on with me and my wife. I always knew -that I could have eaten her up had I wanted to, -but, somehow, a bear cannot settle down in earnest -to fight his own wife. If she loses her temper, he -can pretend to be angry too, but in the end he surely -gets the worst of it. I do not know why it is, but -a she-bear does not seem to mind how hard she hits -her husband, but he always stops just short of hurting -her. Perhaps it is the same with human beings.</p> - -<p>But to Kahwa and me both father and mother -were very gentle and kind in those first helpless -days, and I suppose they never punished us unless -we deserved it. Later on my father and I had -differences, as you will hear. But in that first -summer our lives, if uneventful, were very happy.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> -</div> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span></p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2> -<a name="chap_2" id="chap_2"></a> -<a href="#contents" class="chapref" title="Return to Table of Contents.">CHAPTER <abbr title="2">II</abbr></a> -<br /> - -<span class="stitle">CUBHOOD DAYS</span></h2> - - -<p><span class="smcap">When</span> they are small, bear-cubs rarely go about -alone. The whole family usually keeps together, -or, if it separates, it is generally into couples—one -cub with each of the parents; or the father goes off -alone, leaving both cubs with the mother. A cub -toddling off alone in its own woolly, comfortable -ignorance would be sure to make all manner of -mistakes in what it ate, and it might find itself in -very serious trouble in other ways.</p> - -<p>Bears, when they live far enough away from man, -have absolutely nothing to be afraid of. There are, -of course, bigger bears—perhaps bigger ones of our -own kind, either black or brown (‘cinnamon,’ as -the brown members of our family are called), or, -especially, grizzly. But I never heard of a grizzly -bear hurting one of us. When I smell a grizzly in -the neighbourhood, I confess that it seems wiser to -go round the other side of the hill; but that is -probably inherited superstition more than anything<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> -else. My father and mother did it, and so do I. -But I have known several of our cinnamon cousins -in my life, and have been friendly enough with -them—with the she-bears especially. Apart from -these, there lives nothing in the forest that a full-grown -black bear has any cause to fear. He goes -where he pleases and does what he likes, and -nobody ventures to dispute his rights. With a -cub, however, it is different.</p> - -<p>I had heard my father and mother speak of -pumas, or mountain lions, and I knew their smell -well enough—and did not like it. But I shall -never forget the first one that I saw.</p> - -<p>We were out together—father, mother, Kahwa, -and I—and it was getting well on in the morning. -The sun was up, and the day growing warm, and -I, wandering drowsily along with my nose to the -ground, had somehow strayed away from the rest, -when suddenly I smelled puma very strong. As I -threw myself up on my haunches, he came out from -behind a tree, and stood facing me only a few yards -away. I was simply paralyzed with fear—one of -the two or three times in my life when I have been -honestly and thoroughly frightened. As I looked -at him, wondering what would happen next, he -crouched down till he was almost flat along the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> -ground, and I can see him now, his whole yellow -body almost hidden behind his head, his eyes -blazing, and his tail going slap, slap! from side to -side. How I wished that I had a tail!</p> - -<p>Then inch by inch he crept towards me, very -slowly, putting one foot forward and then the other. -I did not know what to do, and so did what proved -to be the best thing possible: I sat quite still, and -screamed for mother as loud as I could. She must -have known from my voice that something serious -was the matter, because in a second, just as the -puma’s muscles were growing tense for the final -spring, there was a sudden crash of broken boughs -behind me, a feeling as if a whirlwind was going -by, and my mother shot past me straight at the -puma. I had no idea that she could go so fast. -The puma was up on his hind-legs to meet her, but -her impetus was so terrific that it bore him backwards, -without seeming to check her speed in the -least, and away they went rolling over and over -down the hill.</p> - -<p>But it was not much of a fight. The puma, -willing enough to attack a little cub like me, knew -that he was no match for my mother, and while -they were still rolling he wrenched himself loose, -and was off among the trees like a shadow.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span></p> - -<p>When mother came back to me blood was running -over her face, where, at the moment of meeting, -the puma had managed to give her one wicked, -tearing claw down the side of her nose. So, as -soon as my father and Kahwa joined us, we all -went down to the stream, where mother bathed -her face, and kept it in the cold water for nearly -the whole day.</p> - -<p>It was probably in some measure to pay me out -for this scrape, and to give me another lesson in -the unwisdom of too much independence and -inquisitiveness in a youngster, that my parents, -soon after this, allowed me to get into trouble with -that porcupine.</p> - -<p>One evening my father had taken us to a place -where the ground was full of mountain lilies. It -was early in the year, when the green shoots were -just beginning to appear above the earth; and -wherever there was a shoot there was a bulb down -below. And a mountain lily bulb is one of the very -nicest things to eat that there is—so sweet, and -juicy, and crisp! The place was some distance -from our home, and after that first visit Kahwa and -I kept begging to be taken there again. At last -my father yielded, and we set out early one morning -just before day was breaking.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span></p> - -<p>We were not loitering on the way, but trotting -steadily along all together, and Kahwa and I, at -least, were full of expectation of the lily bulbs in -store, when, in a little open space among the trees, -we came upon an object unlike anything I had ever -seen before. As we came upon it, I could have -declared that it was moving—that it was an animal -which, at sight of us, had stopped stock still, and -tucked its head and toes in underneath it. But it -certainly was not moving now, and did not look as -if it ever could move again, so finally I concluded -that it must be a large fungus or a strange new -kind of hillock, with black and white grass growing -all over it. My father and mother had stopped -short when they saw it, and just sat up on their -haunches and looked at it; and Kahwa did the -same, snuggling up close to my mother’s side. -Was it an animal, or a fungus, or only a mound of -earth? The way to find out was to smell it. So, -without any idea of hurting it, I trotted up and -reached out my nose. As I did so it shrank a little -more into itself, and became rounder and more like -a fungus than ever; but the act of shrinking also -made the black and white grass stick out a little -further, so that my nose met it sooner than I -expected, and I found that, if it was grass, it was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> -very sharp grass, and pricked horribly. I tried -again, and again it shrank up and pricked me worse -than ever. Then I heard my father chuckling to -himself.</p> - -<p>That made me angry, for I always have detested -being laughed at, and, without stopping to think, -I smacked the thing just as hard as I could. A -moment later I was hopping round on three legs -howling with pain, for a bunch of the quills had -gone right into my paw, where they were still -sticking, one coming out on the other side.</p> - -<p>My father laughed, but my mother drew out the -quills with her teeth, and that hurt worse than -anything; and all day, whenever she found a particularly -fat lily bulb, she gave it to me. For my -part, I could only dig for the bulbs with my left -paw, and it was ever so many days before I could -run on all four feet again.</p> - -<p>All these things must have happened when I -was very young—less than three months old—because -we were still living in the same place, -whereas when summer came we moved away, as -bears always do, and had no fixed home during the -hot months.</p> - -<p>Bear-cubs are born when the mother is still in -her winter den, and they are usually five or six<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> -weeks old before they come out into the world at -all. Even then at first, when the cubs are very -young, the family stays close at home, and for -some time I imagine that the longest journey I -made was when I tumbled those fifty feet downhill. -Father or mother might wander away alone -in the early morning or evening for a while, but -for the most part we were all four at home by the -rock and the cedar-trees, with the bare brown tree-trunks -growing up all round out of the bare brown -mountain-sides, and Kahwa and I spending our -time lying sleepily cuddled up to mother, or -romping together and wishing we could catch -squirrels.</p> - -<p>There were a great many squirrels about—large -gray ones mostly; but living in a fir-tree close by -us was a black one with a deplorable temper.</p> - -<p>Every day he used to come and quarrel with us. -Whenever he had nothing particular to do, he -would say to himself, ‘I’ll go and tease those old -bears.’ And he did. His plan was to get on our -trees from behind, where we could not see him, -then to come round on our side about five or six -feet from the ground, just safely out of reach, and -there, hanging head downwards, call us every -name he could think of. Squirrels have an awful<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> -vocabulary, but I never knew one that could talk -like Blacky. And every time he thought of something -new to say he waved his tail at us in a way -that was particularly aggravating. You have no -idea how other animals poke fun at us because we -have no tails, and how sensitive we really are on -the subject. They say that it was to hide our lack -of tail that we originally got into the habit of -sitting up on our haunches whenever we meet a -stranger.</p> - -<p>Kahwa and I used to make all sorts of plans to -catch Blacky, but we might as well have tried to -catch a moonbeam. He knew exactly how far we -could reach from the ground, and if we made a -rush for him he was always three inches too high. -Then we would run round on opposite sides of the -tree in the hope of cutting him off when he came -down. But when we did that he never did come -down, but just went up instead, till he reached -a place where the branches of our trees nearly -touched those of his own fir, and then jumped -across. We always hoped he would miss that -jump, and Kahwa and I waited down below with -our mouths open for him to drop in, but he -never did.</p> - -<p>We used to try and persuade mother to go up<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> -his tree after him, but she knew very well that she -could neither catch him nor get out on the thin -branches where his nest was. There is only one -way in which a bear can catch squirrels, and that -is by pretending to be dead or asleep; for squirrels -are so idiotically inquisitive that sooner or later -they are certain to come right up to you if you do -this, and sit on your nose. Some bears, I believe, -are fond of squirrels, but I confess I never cared -for them. There is so much fluff and stringy stuff -in them, and so little to eat.</p> - -<p>Chipmunks<a name="Anchor-2" id="Anchor-2"></a><a href="#Footnote-2" class="fnanchor" title="Go to footnote 2.">[2]</a> are different. Though smaller -than squirrels, they are much less fluffy in proportion, -and taste almost as nice as mice.</p> - -<p>Next to Blacky, our most frequent visitor was -Rat-tat, the woodpecker. The air in the mountains -is very still, so that you can hear sounds a long -way, and all day long from every direction the -‘rat-tat-tat-tat!’ of the woodpeckers was ringing -through the woods. In the evening when the sun -was going down, they used to sit on the very tops -of the trees, and call to each other from hill to hill—just -two long whistles, ‘whee-whoo, whee-whoo.’ -It was a sad noise, but I liked Rat-tat. He was so -jauntily gay in his suit of black and white, with his -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span>bright red crest, and always so immensely busy. -Starting near the bottom of a tree, he worked -steadily up it—rat-tat-tat-tat! and up—rat-tat-tat-tat! -till he got to the top; then down like a flash to -another, to begin all over again. Grubs he was -after, and nothing else mattered. Grubs—rat-tat-tat-tat! -rat-tat-tat-tat! grubs! and up and up he -went.</p> - -<p>One of our cedars was dead at the top, and Rat-tat -used to come there nearly every day. Little -chips and splinters of wood would come floating -down to us, and once a lovely fat beetle grub that -he had somehow overlooked came plump down -under my very nose. If that was the kind of thing -that he found up there, I was not surprised that he -was fond of our tree. I would have gone up too, -if I could; but the dead part would never have -been safe for me.</p> - -<p>Very soon we began to be taken out on long -excursions, going all four together, as I have said, -and then we began to learn how much that is nice -to eat there is in the world.</p> - -<p>You have probably no idea, for instance, how -many good things there may be under one rotting -log. Even if you do not get a mouse or a chipmunk, -you are sure of a fringe of greenstuff which,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> -from lack of sunlight, has grown white and juicy, -and almost as sure of some mushrooms or other -fungi, most of which are delicious. But before you -can touch them you have to look after the insects. -Mushrooms will wait, but the sooner you catch -beetles, and earwigs, and ants, and grubs, the -better. It is always worth while to roll a log -over, if you can, no matter how much trouble -it costs; and a big stone is sometimes nearly as -good.</p> - -<p>Insects, of course, are small, and it would take a -lot of ants, or even beetles, to make a meal for a -bear; but they are good, and they help out. Some -wild animals, especially those which prey upon -others, eat a lot at one time, and then starve till -they can kill again. A bear, on the other hand, is -wandering about for more than half of the twenty-four -hours, except in the very heat of summer, and -he is eating most of the while that he wanders. The -greater part of his food, of course, is greenstuff—lily -bulbs, white camas roots, wild-onions, and -young shoots and leaves. As he walks he browses -a mouthful of young leaves here, scratches up a -root there, tears the bark off a decaying tree and -eats the insects underneath, lifts a stone and finds -a mouse or a lizard beneath, or loiters for twenty<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> -minutes over an ant-hill. With plenty of time, he -is never in a hurry, and every little counts.</p> - -<p>But most of all in summer I used to love to go -down to the stream. In warm weather, during the -heat of the day, bears stay in the shelter of thickets, -among the brush by the water or under the shade of a -fallen tree. As the sun sank we would move down -to the stream, and lie all through the long evening -in the shallows, where the cold water rippled -against one’s sides. And along the water there -was always something good to eat—not merely the -herbage and the roots of the water-plants, but frogs -and insects of all sorts among the grass. Our -favourite bathing-place was just above a wide pool -made by a beaver-dam. The pool itself was -deep in places, but before the river came to it, it -flowed for a hundred yards and more over a level -gravel bottom, so shallow that even as a cub I -could walk from shore to shore without the water -being above my shoulders. At the edge of the -pool the same black and white kingfisher was -always sitting on the same branch when we came -down, and he disliked our coming, and <em>chirred</em> at us -to go away. I used to love to pretend not to -understand him, and to walk solemnly through the -water underneath and all round his branch. It<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> -made him furious, and sent him <em>chirring</em> upstream -to find another place to fish, where there were no -idiotic bear-cubs who did not know any better than -to walk about among his fish.</p> - -<p>Here, too, my father and mother taught us to -fish; but it was a long time before I managed to -catch a trout for myself. It takes such a dreadful -lot of sitting still. Having found where a fish is -lying, probably under an overhanging branch or -beneath the grass jutting out from the bank, you -lie down silently as close to the edge of the water -as you can get, and slip one paw in, ever so -gradually, behind the fish, and move it towards -him gently—gently. If he takes fright and darts -away, you leave your paw where it is, or move it -as close to the spot where he was lying as you -can reach, and wait. Sooner or later he will come -back, swimming downstream and then swinging -round to take his station almost exactly in the -same spot as before. If you leave your paw -absolutely still, he does not mind it, and may -even, on his return, come and lie right up against -it. If so, you strike at once. More probably he -will stop a few inches or a foot away. If you -have already reached as far as you can towards -him, then is the time that you need all your<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> -patience. Again and again he darts out to take -a fly from the surface of the water or swallow -something that is floated down to him by the -current, and each time that he comes back he -may shift his position an inch or two. At last -he comes to where you can actually crook your -claws under his tail. Ever so cautiously you -move your paw gently halfway up towards his -head, and then, when your claws are almost -touching him, you strike—strike, once and hard, -with a hooking blow that sends him whirling like -a bar of silver far out on the bank behind you. -And trout is good—the plump, dark, pink-banded -trout of the mountain streams. But you must -not strike one fraction of a second too soon, for -if your paw has more than an inch to travel before -the claws touch him he is gone, and all you feel -is the flip of a tail upon the inner side of the paw, -and all your time is wasted.</p> - -<p>It is hard to learn to wait long enough, and I -know that at first I used to strike at fish that were -a foot away, with no more chance of catching them -than of making supper off a waterfall. But father -and mother used to catch a fish apiece for us almost -every evening, and gradually Kahwa and I began -to take them for ourselves.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span></p> - -<p>Then, as the daylight faded, the beavers came -out upon their dam and played about in the pool, -swimming and diving and slapping the surface -with their tails with a noise like that of an osprey -when he strikes the water in diving for a fish. -But though they had time for play, they were busy -folk, the beavers. Some of them were constantly -patching and tinkering at the dam, and some -always at work, except when the sun was up, -one relieving another, gnawing their way with -little tiny bites steadily through one of the great -trees that stood by the water’s edge, and always -gnawing it so that when, after weeks of labour, -it fell, it never failed to fall across the stream -precisely where they wanted it. If an enemy -appeared—at the least sign or smell of wolf or -puma—there would be a loud ringing slap from -one of the tails upon the water, and in an instant -every beaver had vanished under water and was -safe inside the house among the logs of the dam, -the door of which was down below the surface.</p> - -<p>Us bears they were used to and did not mind; -but they never let us come too near. Sitting -safely on the top of their piled logs, or twenty -feet away in the water, they would talk to us -pleasantly enough; but—well, my father told me<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> -that young, very young, beaver was good eating, -and I imagine that the beavers knew that we -thought so, and were afraid, perhaps, that we might -not be too particular about the age.</p> - -<p>As the dusk changed to darkness we would -leave the water and roam over the hillsides, -sometimes sleeping through the middle hours of -the night, but in summer more often roaming -on, to come back to the stream for a while just -before the sun was up, and then turning in to sleep -till he went down again.</p> - -<p>Those long rambles in the summer moonlight, -or in the early dawn when everything reeked -with dew, how good they were! And when the -afternoon of a broiling day brought a thunderstorm, -the delight of the smell of the moist earth -and the almost overpowering scent of the pines! -And when the berries were ripe—blueberries, -cranberries, wild-raspberries, and, later in the -year, elderberries—no fruit, nor anything else to -eat, has ever tasted as they did then in that first -summer when I was a cub.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span></p> - -</div> - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2> -<a name="chap_3" id="chap_3"></a> -<a href="#contents" class="chapref" title="Return to Table of Contents.">CHAPTER <abbr title="3">III</abbr></a> -<br /> - -<span class="stitle">THE COMING OF MAN</span></h2> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Summer</span> was far advanced. We had had a week -or two of hot, dry weather, during which we had -wandered abroad, spending the heat of the days -asleep in the shadow of cool brushwood down by -the streams, and in the nights and early mornings -roaming where we would. Ultimately we worked -round to the neighbourhood of our home, and -went to see if all was right there, and to spend one -day in the familiar place.</p> - -<p>It was in the very middle of the day—a sultry -day, when the sun was blazing hot—that we were -awakened by the sound of somebody coming -through the bushes. The wind was blowing towards -us, so that long before he came in sight -we knew that it was a bear like ourselves. But -what was a bear doing abroad at high noon of -such a day, and crashing through the bushes in -that headlong fashion? Something extraordinary<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> -must have happened to him, and we soon learned -that indeed something had.</p> - -<p>Coming plunging downhill with the wind behind -him, he was right on us before he knew we were -there. He was one of our brown cousins—a -cinnamon—and we saw at once that he was hurt, -for he was going on three legs, holding his left -fore-paw off the ground. It was covered with -blood and hung limply, showing that the bone -was broken. He was so nervous that at sight of -us he threw himself up on his haunches and prepared -to fight; but we all felt sorry for him, and -he soon quieted down.</p> - -<p>‘Whatever has happened to you?’ asked my -father, while we others sat and listened.</p> - -<p>‘Man!’ replied Cinnamon, with a growl that -made my blood run cold.</p> - -<p>Man! Father had told us of man, but he had -never seen him; nor had his father or his grandfather -before him. Man had never visited our -part of the mountains, as far as we knew, but -stories of him we had heard in plenty. They had -been handed down in our family from generation -to generation, from the days when our ancestors -lived far away from our present abiding-place; and -every year, too, the animals that left the mountains<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> -when the snow came brought us back stories of -man in the spring. The coyotes knew him and -feared him; the deer knew him and trembled at -his very name; the pumas knew him and both -feared and hated him. Everyone who knew him -seemed to fear him, and we had caught the fear -from them, and feared him, too, and had blessed -ourselves that he did not come near us.</p> - -<p>And now he was here! And poor Cinnamon’s -shattered leg was evidence that his evil reputation -was not unjustified.</p> - -<p>Then Cinnamon told us his story.</p> - -<p>He had lived, like his father and grandfather -before him, some miles away on the other side of -the high range of mountains behind us; and there -he had considered himself as safe from man as we -on our side had supposed ourselves to be. But -that spring when he awoke he found that during -the winter the men had come. They were few in -the beginning, he said, and he had first heard of -them as being some miles away. But more came, -and ever more; and as they came they pushed -further and further into the mountains. What -they were doing he did not know, but they kept -for the most part along by the streams, where they -dug holes everywhere. No, they did not live in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> -the holes. They built themselves places to live in -out of trees which they cut down and chopped into -lengths and piled together. Why they did that, -when it was so much easier to dig comfortable -holes in the hillside, he did not know; but they -did. And they did not cut down the trees with -their teeth like beavers, but took sticks in their -hands and beat them till they fell!</p> - -<p>Yes, it was true about the fires they made. -They made them every day and all the time, usually -just outside the houses that they built of the -chopped trees. The fires were terrible to look at, -but the men did not seem to be afraid of them. -They stood quite close to them, especially in the -evenings, and burned their food in them before -they ate it.</p> - -<p>We had heard this before, but had not believed -it. And it was true, after all! What was still -more wonderful, Cinnamon said that he had gone -down at night, when the men were all asleep in -their chopped-tree houses, and, sniffing round, had -found pieces of this burnt food lying about, and eaten -them, and—they were very good! So good were -they that, incredible as it might seem, Cinnamon -had gone again and again, night after night, to -look for scraps that had been left lying about.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span></p> - -<p>On the previous night he had gone down as -usual after the men, as he supposed, were all -asleep, but he was arrested before he got to the -houses themselves by a strong smell of the burnt -food somewhere close by him. The men, he explained, -had cut down the trees nearest to the -stream to build their houses with, so that between -the edge of the forest and the water there was an -open space dotted with the stumps of the trees -that had been felled, which stuck up as high as -a bear’s shoulder from the ground. It was just -at the edge of this open space that he smelled the -burnt food, and, sure enough, on one of the nearest -stumps there was a bigger lump of it than any he -had ever seen. Naturally, he went straight up -to it.</p> - -<p>Just as he got to it he heard a movement between -him and the houses, and, looking round, -he saw a man lying flat on the ground in such -a way that he had hitherto been hidden by another -stump. As Cinnamon looked he saw the man point -something at him (yes, unquestionably, the dreadful -thing we had heard of—the thunder-stick—with -which man kills at long distances), and in -a moment there was a flash of flame and a noise -like a big tree breaking in the wind, and something<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> -hit his leg and smashed it, as we could see. It -hurt horribly, and Cinnamon turned at once and -plunged into the wood. As he did so there was a -second flash and roar, and something hit a tree-trunk -within a foot of his head, and sent splinters -flying in every direction.</p> - -<p>Since then Cinnamon had been trying only to -get away. His foot hurt him so that he had been -obliged to be down for a few hours in the bushes -during the morning; but now he was pushing on -again, only anxious to go somewhere as far away -from man as possible.</p> - -<p>While he was talking, my mother had been licking -his wounded foot, while father sat up on his -haunches, with his nose buried in the fur of his -chest, grumbling and growling to himself, as his -way was when he was very much annoyed. I -have the same trick, which I suppose I inherited -from him. We cubs sat shivering and whimpering, -and listening terror-stricken to the awful -story.</p> - -<p>What was to be done now? That was the -question. How far away, we asked, were the -men? Well, it was about midnight when Cinnamon -was wounded, and now it was noon. -Except the three or four hours that he had lain<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> -in the bushes, he had been travelling in a straight -line all the time, as fast as he could with his broken -leg. And did men travel fast? No; they moved -very slowly, and always on their hind-legs. Cinnamon -had never seen one go on all fours, though -that seemed to him as ridiculous as their building -houses of chopped trees instead of making holes in -the ground. They very rarely went about at night, -and Cinnamon did not believe any of them had -followed him, so there was probably no immediate -danger. Moreover, Cinnamon explained, they -seldom moved far away from the streams, and -they made a great deal of noise wherever they -went, so that it was easy to hear them. Besides -which, you could smell them a long way off. It -did not matter if you had never smelled it before: -any bear would know the man-smell by the first -whiff he got of it.</p> - -<p>All this was somewhat consoling. It made the -danger a little more remote, and, especially, it -reduced the chance of our being taken by surprise. -Still, the situation was bad enough as it stood, for -the news changed the whole colour and current -of our lives. Hitherto we had gone without fear -where we would, careless of anything but our own -inclinations. Now a sudden terror had arisen, that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> -threw a shadow over every minute of the day and -night. Man was near—man, who seemed to love -to kill, and who <em>could</em> kill; not by his strength, but -by virtue of some cunning which we could neither -combat nor understand. Thereafter, though perhaps -man’s name might not be mentioned between -us from one day to another, I do not think there -was a minute when we were not all more or less on -the alert, with ears and nostrils open for an indication -of his dreaded presence.</p> - -<p>Though Cinnamon thought we could safely stay -where we were, he proposed himself to push on, -further away from the neighbourhood of the hated -human beings. In any emergency he would be -sadly crippled by his broken leg, and—at least till -that was healed—he preferred to be as remote from -danger as possible.</p> - -<p>After he was gone my father and mother held -council. There was no more sleep for us that day, -and in the evening, when we started out on our -regular search for food, it was very cautiously, and -with nerves all on the jump. It was a trying -night. We went warily, with our heads ever -turned up-wind, hardly daring to dig for a root -lest the sound of our digging should fill our ears -so that we would not hear man’s approach; and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> -when I stripped a bit of bark from a fallen log -to look for beetles underneath, and it crackled -noisily as it came away, my father growled angrily -at me and mother cuffed me from behind.</p> - -<p>I remember, though, that they shared the beetles -between them.</p> - -<p>I need not dwell on the days of anxiety that -followed. I do not remember them much myself, -except that they were very long and nerve-racking. -I will tell you at once how it was that we first -actually came in contact with man himself.</p> - -<p>In the course of my life I have reached the conclusion -that nearly all the troubles that come to -animals are the result of one of two things—either -of their greediness or their curiosity. It -was curiosity which led me into the difficulty with -Porcupine. It was Cinnamon’s greediness that -got his leg broken for him. Our first coming in -contact with man was the result, I am afraid, of -both—but chiefly of our curiosity.</p> - -<p>During the days that followed our meeting -with Cinnamon, while we were moving about so -cautiously, we were also all the time (and, though -we never mentioned the fact, we all knew that we -were) gradually working nearer to the place where -Cinnamon had told us that man was. I knew what<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> -was happening, but would not have mentioned it -for worlds, lest if we talked about it we should -change our direction. And I wanted—yes, in -spite of his terrors—I <em>wanted</em> to see man just -once. Also—I may as well confess it—there were -memories of what Cinnamon had said of that -wonderful burnt food.</p> - -<p>Some ten or twelve days must have passed in -this way, when one morning, after we had been -abroad for three or four hours, and the sun was just -getting up, we heard a noise such as we had never -heard before. Chuck! chuck! chuck! chuck! -It came at regular intervals for a while, then -stopped and began again. What could it be? -It was not the noise of a woodpecker, nor that -which a beaver makes with its tail. Chuck! -chuck! chuck! chuck! It was not the clucking -of a grouse, though perhaps more like that than -anything else, but different, somehow, in quality. -Chuck! chuck! chuck! chuck! I think we all -knew in our hearts that it had something to do -with man.</p> - -<p>The noise came from not far away, but the wind -was blowing across us. So we made a circle till -it blew from the noise to us; and suddenly in -one whiff we all knew that it was man. I felt my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> -skin crawling up my spine, and I saw my father’s -nose go down into his chest, while the hair on his -neck and shoulders stood out as it only could do in -moments of intense excitement.</p> - -<p>Slowly, very slowly, we moved towards the noise, -until at last we were so close that the smell grew -almost overpowering. But still we could not see -him, because of the brushwood. Then we came to -a fallen log and, carefully and silently we stepped -on to it—my father and mother first, then I, then -Kahwa. Now, by standing up on our hind-feet, -our heads—even mine and Kahwa’s—were clear of -the bushes, and there, not fifty yards away from us, -was man. He was chopping down a tree, and that -was the noise that we had heard. He did not see -us, being too intent on his work. Chuck! chuck! -chuck! chuck! He was striking steadily at the -tree with what I now know was an axe, but which -at the time we all supposed to be a thunder-stick, -and at each blow the splinters of wood flew just as -Cinnamon had told us. After a while he stopped, -and stooped to pick something off the ground. -This hid him from my sight, and from Kahwa’s -also, so she strained up on her tiptoes to get another -look at him. In doing so her feet slipped on the -bark of the log, and down she came with a crash<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> -that could have been heard at twice his distance -from us, even if the shock had not knocked a -loud ‘Wooff!’ out of her as she fell. The man -instantly stood up and turned round, and, of -course, found himself staring straight into our -three faces.</p> - -<p>He did not hesitate a moment, but dropped his -axe and ran. I think he ran as fast as he could, -but what Cinnamon said was true: he went, of -course, on his hind-legs, and did <em>not</em> travel fast. It -was downhill, and running on your hind-legs for -any distance downhill is an awkward performance -at best.</p> - -<p>We, of course, followed our impulse, and went -after him. We did not want him in the least. -We would not have known what to do with him if -we had him. But you know how impossible it is -to resist chasing anything that runs away from you. -We could easily have caught him had we wished -to, but why should we? Besides, he might still -have another thunder-stick concealed about him. -So we just ran fast enough to keep him running. -And as we ran, crashing through the bushes, -galloping down the hill, with his head rising and -falling as he leaped along ahead of us, the absurdity -of it got hold of me, and I yelped with excitement<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> -and delight. To be chasing man, of all things -living—man—like this! And I could hear my -father ‘wooffing’ to himself at each gallop with -amusement and satisfaction.</p> - -<p>Very soon, however, we smelled more men. -Then we slowed down, and presently there came -in sight what we knew must be one of the chopped-tree -houses. So we stood and watched, while the -man, still running as if we were at his very heels, -tore up to the house, and out from behind it -came three or four others. We could see them -brandishing their arms and talking very excitedly. -Then two of them plunged into the house, and -came out with—yes, there could be no doubt of -it; these were the real things—the dreaded thunder-sticks -themselves.</p> - -<p>Then we knew that it was our turn to run; -and we ran.</p> - -<p>Back up the hill we went, much faster than we -had come down; for we were running for our own -lives now, and bears like running uphill best. On -and on we went, as fast as we could go. We had -no idea at how long a distance man could hit us -with the thunder-sticks, but we preferred to be on -the safe side, and it must have been at least two -hours before we stopped for a moment to take<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> -breath. And when a bear is in a hurry, two -hours, even for a cub, mean more than twenty -miles.</p> - -<p>So it was that we first met man. And how -absurdly different from what in our terrified -imaginations we had pictured it!</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> -</div> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span></p> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2> -<a name="chap_4" id="chap_4"></a> -<a href="#contents" class="chapref" title="Return to Table of Contents.">CHAPTER <abbr title="4">IV</abbr></a> <br /> - -<span class="stitle">THE FOREST FIRE</span></h2> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Though</span> we had come off so happily from our first -encounter with man, none the less we had no -desire to see him again. On the contrary, we -determined to keep as far away from him as possible. -For my part, I confess that thoughts of him -were always with me, and every thought made the -skin crawl up my back. At nights I dreamed of -him—dreamed that he was chasing me endlessly -over the mountains. I would get away from him, -and, thinking myself safe, crawl into a thicket to -sleep; but before I could shut my eyes he was on -me again, and the dreadful thunder-stick would -speak, and showers of chips flew off the tree-trunks -all round me, and off I would have to go again. -And all the time my fore-leg was broken, like Cinnamon’s, -and I never dared to stop long enough to -wash it in the streams. It seemed to me that the -chase lasted for days and days, over hills and across -valleys, and always, apparently, in a circle, because<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> -I never managed to get any distance away from -home. Then, just as man was going to catch me, -and the thunder-stick was roaring, and the chips -flying off the trees in bewildering showers about -me, my mother would slap me, and wake me up -because she could not sleep for the noise that I was -making. And I was very glad that she did.</p> - -<p>Nor was I the only one of the family who was -nervous. Father and mother had become so -changed that they were gruff and bad-tempered; -and all the pleasure and light-heartedness seemed -to have gone out of our long rambles. There was -no more romping and rolling together down the -hillsides. If Kahwa and I grew noisy in our -play, we were certain to be stopped with a ‘Woof, -children! be quiet.’ The fear of man was always -with us, and his presence seemed to pervade the -whole of the mountains.</p> - -<p>Soon, however, a thing happened which for a -time at least drove man and everything else out of -our minds.</p> - -<p>We still lingered around the neighbourhood of -our home, because, I think, we felt safer there, -where we knew every inch of the hills and every -bush, and tree, and stone. It had been very hot -for weeks, so that the earth was parched dry, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> -the streams had shrunk till, in places where -torrents were pouring but a few weeks ago, there -was now no more than a dribble of water going -over the stones. During the day we hardly went -about at all, but from soon after sunrise to an hour -or so before sunset we kept in the shadow of the -brushwood along the water’s edge.</p> - -<p>One evening the sun did not seem to be able to -finish setting, but after it had gone down the red -glow still stayed in the sky to westward, and -instead of fading it glowed visibly brighter as the -night went on. All night my father was uneasy, -growling and grumbling to himself and continually -sniffing the air to westward; but the atmosphere -was stagnant and hot and dead all night, with not -a breath of wind moving. When daylight came -the glow died out of the western sky, but in place -of it a heavy gray cloud hung over the further -mountains and hid their tops from sight. We went -to bed that morning feeling very uncomfortable and -restless, and by mid-day we were up again. And -now we knew what the matter was.</p> - -<p>A breeze had sprung up from the west, and -when I woke after a few hours’ sleep—sleep which -had been one long nightmare of man and thunder-sticks -and broken leg—the air was full of a new<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> -smell, very sharp and pungent; and not only was -there the smell, but with the breeze the cloud from -the west had been rolling towards us, and the -whole mountain-side was covered with a thin haze, -like a mist, only different from any mist that I had -seen. And it was this haze that smelled so strongly. -Instead of clearing away, as mist ought to do when -the sun grows hot, this one became denser as the -day went on, half veiling the sun itself. And we -soon found that things—unusual things—were -going on in the mountains. The birds were flying -excitedly about, and the squirrels chattering, and -everything was travelling from west to east, and -on all sides we heard the same thing.</p> - -<p>‘The world’s on fire! quick, quick, quick, quick!’ -screamed the squirrels as they raced along the -ground or jumped from tree to tree overhead. -‘Fire! fire!’ called the myrtle-robin as it passed. -‘Firrrrrre!’ shouted the blue jay. A coyote came -limping by, yelping that the end of the world was -at hand. Pumas passed snarling and growling -angrily, first at us, and then over their shoulders at -the smoke that rolled behind. Deer plunged up to -us, stood for a minute quivering with terror, and -plunged on again into the brush. Overhead and -along the ground was an almost constant stream of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> -birds and animals, all hurrying in the same direction.</p> - -<p>Presently there came along another family of -bears, the parents and two cubs just about the size -of Kahwa and myself, the cubs whimpering and -whining as they ran. The father bear asked my -father if we were not going, too; but my father -thought not. He was older and bigger than the -other bear, and had seen a forest fire when he was a -cub, and his father then had saved them by taking -to the water.</p> - -<p>‘If a strong wind gets up,’ he said, ‘you cannot -escape by running away from the fire, because it will -travel faster than you. It may drive you before -it for days, until you are worn out, and there’s no -knowing where it will drive you. It may drive -you unexpectedly straight into man. I shall try -the water.’</p> - -<p>The others listened to what he had to say, but -they were too frightened to pay much attention, -and soon went on again, leaving us to face the fire. -And I confess that I wished that father would let -us go, too.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile the smoke had been growing thicker -and thicker. It made eyes and throat smart, and -poor little Kahwa was crying with discomfort and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> -terror. Before sunset the air was so thick that we -could not see a hundred yards in any direction, and -as the twilight deepened the whole western half of -the sky, from north to south and almost overhead, -seemed to be aflame. Now, too, we could -hear the roaring of the fire in the distance, like the -noise the wind makes in the pine-trees before a -thunderstorm. Then my father began to move, -not away from the fire, however, but down the -stream, and the stream ran almost due west straight -towards it. What a terrible trip that was! The -fire was, of course, much further away than it -looked; the smoke had been carried with the wind -many miles ahead of the fire itself, and we could -not yet see the flames, but only the awful glare in -the sky. But, in my inexperience, I thought it was -close upon us, and, with the dreadful roaring growing -louder and louder in my ears, every minute -was an agony.</p> - -<p>But my father and mother went steadily on, -and there was nothing to do but to follow them. -Sometimes we left the stream for a little to make a -short-cut, but we soon came back to it, and for the -most part we kept in the middle of the water, or -wading along by the bank where it was deep. All -the time the noise of the roaring of the flames grew<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> -louder and the light in the sky brighter, until, as -we went forward, everything in front of us looked -black against it, and if we looked behind us everything -was glowing, even in the haze of smoke, as if -in strong red sunshine. Now, too, at intervals the -gusts of wind came stiflingly hot, laden with the -breath of the fire itself, and we were glad to plunge -our faces down into the cool water until the gusts -went by.</p> - -<p>At last we reached our pool above the beaver-dam, -and here, feeling his way cautiously well out -into the middle, till he found a place where it was -just deep enough for Kahwa and me to be able to -lift our heads above the water, father stopped. By -this time the air was so hot that it was hard to -breathe without dipping one’s mouth constantly in -the water, and for the roaring of the flames I could -not hear Kahwa whimpering at my side, or the -rush of the stream below the dam. And we soon -found that we were not alone in the pool. My -friend the kingfisher was not there, but close -beside us were old Grey Wolf and his wife, and, -as I remembered that Grey Wolf was considered -the wisest animal in the mountains, I began to feel -more comfortable, and was glad that we had not -run away with the others. The beavers—what a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> -lot of them there were!—were in a state of great -excitement, climbing out on to the top of the dam -and slapping the logs and the water with their -tails, then plunging into the water, only to climb -out again and plunge in once more. Once a small -herd of deer, seven or eight of them, came rushing -into the water, evidently intending to stay there, -but their courage failed them. Whether it was -the proximity of Grey Wolf or whether it was -mere nervousness I do not know, but after they -had settled down in the water one of them was -suddenly panic-stricken, and plunged for the bank -and off into the woods, followed by all the rest.</p> - -<p>When we reached the pool there was still one -ridge or spur of the mountains between us and the -fire, making a black wall in front of us, above -which was nothing but a furnace of swirling smoke -and red-hot air. It seemed as if we waited a long -time for the flames to top that wall, because, I -suppose, they travelled slowly down in the valley -beyond, where they did not get the full force of -the wind. Then we saw the sky just above the -top of the wall glowing brighter from red to -yellow; then came a few scattered, tossing bits of -flame against the glow and the swirling smoke; -and then, with one roar, it was upon us. In an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> -instant the whole line of the mountain ridge was a -mass of flame, the noise redoubled till it was -almost deafening, and, as the wind now caught it, -the fire leaped from tree to tree, not pausing at -one before it swallowed the next, but in one steady -rush, without check or interruption, it swept over -the hill-top and down the nearer slope, and instantaneously, -as it seemed, we were in the middle -of it.</p> - -<p>I remember recalling then what my father had -said to the other bears about not being able to -run away from the fire if the wind were blowing -strongly.</p> - -<p>Had we not been out in the middle of the pool, -we must have perished. The fire was on both -sides of the stream—indeed, as we learned later, -it reached for many miles on both sides, and where -there was only the usual width of water the flames -joined hands across it and swept up the stream in -one solid wall. Where we were was the whole -width of the pool, while, besides, the beavers had -cut down the larger trees immediately near the -water, so there was less for the fire to feed upon. -But even so I did not believe that we could come -through alive. It was impossible to open my eyes -above water, and the hot air scorched my throat.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> -There was nothing for it but to keep my head -under water and hold my breath as long as I -could, then put my nose out just enough to -breathe once, and plunge it in again. How long -that went on I do not know, but it seemed to me -ages; though the worst of it can only have lasted -for minutes. But at the end of those minutes all -the water in that huge pool was hot.</p> - -<p>I saw my father raising his head and shoulders -slowly out of the water and beginning to look -about him. That gave me courage, and I did the -same. The first thing that I realized was that the -roaring was less loud, and then, though it was -still almost intolerably hot, I found that it was -possible to keep one’s head in the open air and -one’s eyes open. Looking back, I saw that the -line of flame had already swept far away, and was -even now surmounting the top of the next high -ridge; and it was, I knew, at that moment devouring -the familiar cedars by our home, just as it had -devoured the trees on either side of the beavers’ -pool. On all sides of us the bigger trees were still -in flames, and from everywhere thick white smoke -was rising, and over all the mountain-side, right -down to the water’s edge, there was not one green -leaf or twig. Everything was black. The brushwood -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span>was completely gone. The trees were no -more than bare trunks, some of them still partially -wreathed in flames. The whole earth was black, -and from every side rose columns and jets and -streams of smoke. It seemed incredible that such -a change could have been wrought so instantaneously. -It was awful. Just a few minutes, -and what had been a mountain-side clothed in -splendid trees, making one dense shield of green, -sloping down to the bottom-land by the stream, -with its thickets of undergrowth, and all the long -cool green herbage by the water, had been swept -away, and in its place was only a black and -smoking wilderness. And what we saw before -our eyes was the same for miles and miles to north -and south of us, for a hundred miles to the west -from which the fire had come; and every few -minutes, as long as the wind held, carried desolation -another mile to eastward.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<a name="image_3" id="image_3"></a> -<img src="images/i056.jpg" width="500" height="500" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"> -<p class="caption">THE FATHER BEAR ASKED MY FATHER -IF WE WERE NOT GOING TOO.</p> -</div> -<p class="centerref">[<a href="images/i056-l.jpg">Enlarge</a>]</p> -</div> - - -<p>And what of all the living things that had died? -Had the animals and birds that had passed us -earlier in the day escaped? The deer which had -fled from the pool at the last moment—they, I -knew, must have been overtaken in that first -terrible rush of the flames; and I wondered what -the chances were that the bears who had declined<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> -to stay with us, the squirrels, the coyote, the -pumas, and the hosts of birds that had been -hurrying eastward all day, would be able to keep -moving long enough to save themselves. And what -of all the insects and smaller things that must -be perishing by millions every minute? I do not -know whether I was more frightened at the -thought of what we had escaped or grateful to my -father for the course he had taken.</p> - -<p>It is improbable that I thought of all this at the -time, but I know I was dreadfully frightened; and -it makes me laugh now to think what a long time -it was before we could persuade Kahwa to put her -head above water and look about her. Our eyes -and throats were horribly sore, but otherwise none -of us was hurt. But though we were alive, life -did not look very bright for us. Where should -we go? That was the first question. And what -should we find to eat in all this smoking wilderness? -While we sat in the middle of the pool -wondering what we could do or whether it would -be safe to do anything, we saw Grey Wolf start to -go away. He climbed out on the bank while his -wife sat in the water and watched him. He got -out safely, and then put his nose down to snuff at -the ground. The instant his nose touched the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> -earth he gave a yelp, and plunged back into the -water again. He had burnt the tip of his nose, -for the ground was baking hot, as we soon discovered -for ourselves. When we first stepped out -on shore, our feet were so wet that we did not feel -the heat, but in a few seconds they began to dry, -and then the sooner we scrambled back into the -water again, the better.</p> - -<p>How long it would have taken the earth to cool -again I do not know. It was covered with a layer -of burned stuff, ashes, and charred wood, which -everywhere continued smouldering underneath, and -all through the morning of the next day little -spirals of smoke were rising from the ground in -every direction. Fortunately, at mid-day came a -thunderstorm which lasted well on towards evening, -and when the rain stopped the ground had ceased -smoking. Many of the trees still smouldered and -burned inside. Sometimes the flame would eat -its way out again to the surface, so that the tree -would go on burning in the middle of the wet -forest until it was consumed; and for days afterwards, -on scratching away the stuff on the surface, -we would come to a layer of half-burned sticks that -was still too hot to touch. And nothing more -desolate than the landscape can be imagined.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> -Wherever we looked there was not a speck of -green to be seen—nothing but blackness. The -earth everywhere was black, and out of it in long -rows in every direction stood up the black trees. -In many cases only the branches were burnt, -leaving the whole straight shaft of the trunk going -up like a mast into the sky. In others the trees -were destroyed, trunk and all, to within a foot or -two of the ground, leaving nothing but a ragged -and charred stump standing. Sometimes the fire -had eaten through the tree halfway up, so that -the top had broken off, and what remained was -only a column, ten, twenty, or thirty feet high. -And everything was black, black, black—like -ourselves.</p> - -<p>We of course kept to the stream. There along -the edges we found food, for the rushes and grass -and plants of all kinds had burned to the water-line, -but below that the stems and roots remained -fresh and good. But it was impossible to avoid -getting the black dust into one’s nose and mouth, -and our throats and nostrils were still full of the -smell of the smoke. No amount of water would -wash it out. The effect of the thunderstorm soon -passed off, and by the next day everything was as -dry as ever, and the least puff of wind filled the air<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> -with clouds of black powder which made us sneeze, -and, getting into our eyes, kept them red and sore. -I do not think that in all my life I have spent -such a miserable time as during those days while -we were trying to escape from the region of the -fire.</p> - -<p>Of course, we did not know that there was any -escape. Perhaps the whole world had burned. -But my father was sure that we should get out of -it some time or other if we only kept straight -on. And keep on we did, hardly ever leaving the -water, but travelling on and on up the stream as -it got smaller and smaller, until finally there was -no stream at all, but only a spring bubbling out of -the mountain-side. So we crossed over the burnt -ground until we came to the beginning of another -stream on the other side, and followed that down -just as we had followed the first one up. And -perhaps the most dreadful thing all the time was -the utter silence of the woods. As a rule, both -day and night, they were full of the noises of other -animals and birds, but now there was not a sound -in all the mountains. We seemed to be the only -living things left.</p> - -<p>The stream which we now followed was that -on which the men whom we had seen were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> -camping, and presently we came to the place -where they had been. The chopped-log house -was a pile of ashes and half-burnt wood. About -the ruins we found all sorts of curious things that -were new to us—among them, things which I now -know were kettles and frying-pans; and we came -across lumps of their food, but it was all too much -covered with the black powder to be eatable. -There we stayed for the best part of a day, and -then we went on without having seen a sign of -man himself, and wondering what had become of -him. We had no cause to love him; but I -remember hoping that he had not been burned. -And the thought that even man himself had been -as helpless as we made it all seem more terrible -and hopeless.</p> - -<p>Seven or eight days had passed since the fire, -when, the day after we passed the place where -man had lived, we came to a beaver-dam across -the stream, and the beavers told us that, some -hours before the fire reached there, they had -seen the men hurrying downstream, but they did -not know whether they had succeeded in escaping -or not. And now other life began to reappear. -We met badgers and woodchucks and rats which -had taken refuge in their holes, and had at first<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> -been unable to force their way out again through -the mass of burnt stuff which covered the ground -and choked up their burrows. The air, too, began -to be full of insects, which had been safe underground -or in the hearts of trees, and were now -hatching out. And then we met birds—woodpeckers -first, and afterwards jays, which were -working back into the burnt district, and from -them it was that we first learned for certain that -it was only a burnt district, and that there was -part of the world which had escaped. So we -pushed on, until one morning, when daylight -came, we saw in the distance a hill-top on which -the trees still stood with all their leaves unconsumed. -And how good and cool it looked!</p> - -<p>We did not stop to sleep, but travelled on all -through the day, going as fast as we could along -the rocky edges of the stream, which was now -almost wide enough to be a river, when suddenly -we heard strange noises ahead of us, and we knew -what the noises were, and that they meant man -again. Men were coming towards us along the -bank of the stream, so we had to leave it and -hurry into the woods. There, though there was -no shelter but the burnt tree-stumps, we were -safe; for everything around us was of the same<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> -colour as ourselves, and all we had to do was to -squat perfectly still, and it was impossible even -for us, at a little distance, to distinguish each other -from burnt tree-stumps. So we sat and watched -the men pass. There were five of them, each -carrying a bundle nearly as big as himself on his -back, and they laughed and talked noisily as they -passed, without a suspicion that four bears were -looking at them from less than a hundred yards -away.</p> - -<p>As soon as they had passed, we went on again, -and before evening we came to places where the -trees were only partly burned; here and there -one had escaped altogether. Then, close by the -stream, a patch of willows was as green and fresh -as if there had been no fire; and at last we had -left the burnt country behind us. How good it -was—the smell of the dry pine-needles and the -good, soft brown earth underneath, and the delight -of the taste of food that was once more free from -smoke, and the glory of that first roll in the green -grass among the fresh, juicy undergrowth by the -water!</p> - -<p>That next day we slept—really slept—for the -first time since the night in the beavers’ pool.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> -</div> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span></p> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2> -<a name="chap_5" id="chap_5"></a> -<a href="#contents" class="chapref" title="Return to Table of Contents.">CHAPTER <abbr title="5">V</abbr></a> <br /> - -<span class="stitle">I LOSE A SISTER</span></h2> - - -<p><span class="smcap">We</span> soon found that the country which we were -now in was simply full of animals. Of course it -had had its share of inhabitants before the fire, -and, in addition, all those that fled before the -flames had crowded into it; besides which the -beasts of prey from all directions were drawn -towards the same place by the abundance of food -which was easy to get. We heard terrible stories -of sufferings and narrow escapes, and the poor -deer especially, when they had at last won to a -place of safety from the flames, were generally so -tired and so bewildered that they fell an easy prey -to the pumas and wolves. All night long the -forest was full of the yelping of the coyotes -revelling over the bodies of animals that the -larger beasts had killed and only partly eaten, -and every creature seemed to be quarrelling with -those of its kind, the former inhabitants of the -neighbourhood resenting the intrusion of the newcomers.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> -For ourselves, nobody attacked us. We -found two other families of bears quite close to us, -but though we did not make friends at first, they -did not quarrel with us. We were glad enough to -live in peace, and to be able to devote ourselves to -learning something about the new country.</p> - -<p>In general it was very much like the place that -we had left—the same succession of mountain after -mountain, all densely covered with trees, and with -the streams winding down through gulch and -valley. The stream that we had followed was -now a river, broader all along its course than the -beavers’ pool which had saved our lives, and at -one place, about two miles beyond the end of the -burned region, it passed through a valley, wider than -any that I had seen, with an expanse of level land -on either side. Here it was, on this level bottom-land, -that I first tasted what are, I think, next to -honey, of all wild things the greatest treat that a -bear knows—ripe blueberries. But this ‘berry-patch,’ -as we called it, was to play a very important -part in my life, and I must explain.</p> - -<p>We had soon learned that we were now almost -in the middle of men. There was the party which -had passed us going up the stream into the burned -country. There were two more log-houses about<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> -a mile from the edge of the burned country, and -therefore also behind us. There were others -further down the stream, and almost every day -men passed either up or down the river, going from -one set of houses to another. Finally we heard, -and, before we had been there a week, saw with our -own eyes, that only some ten miles further on, -where our stream joined another and made a -mighty river, there was a town, which had all -sprung up since last winter, in which hundreds of -men lived together. This was the great drawback -of our new home. But if we went further on, -the chances were that we should only come to more -and more men; and for the present, by lying up -most of the day, and only going out at night in the -direction of their houses, there was no difficulty in -keeping away from them.</p> - -<p>Familiarity with them indeed had lessened our -terror. We certainly had no desire to hurt them, -and they, as they passed up and down or went -about their work digging in the ground along the -side of the river or chopping down trees, appeared -to give no thought to us; and with that fear -removed, even though we kept constantly on the -alert, lest they should unexpectedly come too near -us, our life was happy and free from care. Father<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> -and mother grew to be like their old selves again, -less gruff and nervous than they had been since the -memorable day when we saw Cinnamon with his -broken leg; and as for Kahwa and me, though we -romped less than we used to do—for we were -seven months old now, and at seven months a -bear is getting to be a big and serious animal—we -were as happy as two young bears could be. -After a long hot day, during which we had been -sleeping in the shade, what could be more delightful -than to go and lie in the cool stream, where it -flowed only a foot or so deep, and as clear as the air -itself, over a firm sandy bottom? There were frogs, -and snails, and beetles of all sorts, along the water’s -edge, and the juicy stems of the reeds and water-plants. -Then, in the night we wandered abroad -finding lily roots, and the sweet ferns, and camas, -and mushrooms, with another visit to the river in -the early morning, and perhaps a trout to wind up -with before the sun drove us under cover again.</p> - -<p>And above all there was the berry-patch.</p> - -<p>The mere smell of a berry-patch at the end of -summer, when the sun has been beating down all -day, so that the air is heavy with the scent of the -cooking fruit, is delicious enough, but it is nothing -to the sweetness of the berries themselves.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span></p> - -<p>It was in the evening, after our dip in the river, -when twilight was shading into night, that we used -to visit the patch. It was a great open space in -a bend of the river, half a mile long and nearly -as wide, without a tree on it, and nothing but just -the blue-berry bushes growing close together all -over it, reaching about up to one’s chest as one -walked through, and every bush loaded with -berries. Not only we, but every bear in the -neighbourhood, used to go there each evening—the -two other families of whom I have spoken, and also -two other single he-bears who had no families. -One of these was the only animal in the neighbourhood—except -the porcupines, which every bear -hates—whom I disliked and feared. He was -a bad-tempered beast, bigger than father, with -whom at our first meeting he wanted to pick a -quarrel, while making friends with mother. She, -however, would not have anything to say to him. -When he was getting ready to fight my father—walking -sideways at him and snarling, while my -father, I am bound to confess, backed away—mother -did not say a word, but went straight at -him as she had rushed at the puma that day -when she saved my life. Then father jumped at -him also, and between them they bundled him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> -along till he fairly took to his heels and ran. But -whenever we met him after that—and we saw him -every evening at the patch—he snarled viciously -at us, and I, at least, was careful to keep father -and mother between him and me. If he had -caught any one of us alone, I believe he would -have killed us; so we took care that he never -should.</p> - -<p>I can see the berry-patch now, lying white and -shining in the moonlight, with here and there -round the edges, and even sometimes pretty well -out into the middle, if the night was not too light, -the black spots showing where the bears were -feeding. We enjoyed our feasts in silence, and -beyond an occasional snapping of a twig, or the cry -of some animal from the forest, or the screech of a -passing owl, there was not a sound but that of our -own eating. One night, however, there came an -interruption.</p> - -<p>It was bright moonlight, and we were revelling -in our enjoyment of the fruit, but father was -curiously restless. The air was very still, but in a -little gust of wind early in the evening father -declared that he had smelled man. As an hour -passed and there was no further sign of him, however, -we forgot him in the delight of the ripe<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> -berries. Suddenly from the other side of the patch, -nearly half a mile away from us, rang out the awful -voice of the thunder-stick. We did not wait to see -what was happening, but made at all speed for the -shelter of the trees, and tore on up the mountain -slope. There was no further sound, but we did -not dare to go back to the patch that night, nor -did we see any of the other bears; so that it was -not until some days afterwards that we heard that -the thunder-stick had very nearly killed the mother -of one of the other families. It had cut a deep -wound in her neck, and she had saved herself only -by plunging into the woods. If we had known all -this at the time, I doubt if we should have gone -back to the berry-patch as we did on the very -next night.</p> - -<p>On our way to the patch we met the bad-tempered -bear coming away from it. That was -curious, and if it had been anybody else we should -undoubtedly have asked him why he was leaving -the feast at that time in the evening. Had we -done so, it might have saved a lot of trouble. As -it was, we only snarled back at him as he passed -snarling by us, and went on our way. We were -very careful, however, and took a long time to -make our way out of the trees down to the edge<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> -of the bushes; but there was no sound to make us -uneasy, nor any smell of man in such wind as blew. -Of course we took care to approach the patch at -the furthest point from where we had heard the -thunder-stick on the night before. It was a cloudy -night, and the moon shone only at intervals. -Taking advantage of a passing cloud, we slipped -out from the cover of the trees into the berry-bushes. -We could see no other bears, but they -might be hidden by the clouds. In a minute, -however, the moon shone out, and had there been -any others there—at least, as far out from the edge -as ourselves—we must have been able to see them. -Certainly, alas! we were seen, for even as I was -looking round the patch in the first ray of the -moonlight to see if any of our friends were there, -the thunder-stick rang out again, and once more we -plunged for the trees. But this time the sound -was much nearer, and there was a second report -before we were well into the shadow, and then a -third. So terrified were we that there was no -thought of stopping, but after we got into the -woods we kept straight on as fast as we could go, -father and mother in front, I next, and Kahwa -behind; and none of us looked back, for we heard -the shouts of men and the crashing of branches as -they ran, and again and again the thunder-stick -spoke.</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span></p> -<p>Suddenly I became aware that Kahwa was not -behind me. I stopped and looked round, but she -was nowhere to be seen. I remembered having -heard her give a sudden squeal, as if she had -trodden on something sharp, but I had paid no -attention to it at the time. Now I became -frightened, and called to father and mother to -stop. They were a long way ahead, and it was -some time before I could get near enough to -attract their attention and tell them that Kahwa -was missing.</p> - -<p>Mother wished to charge straight down the hill -again at the men, thunder-sticks or no thunder-sticks; -but father dissuaded her, and at last we -began to retrace our steps cautiously, keeping our -ears and noses open for any sign either of Kahwa -or of man. As we came near the edge of the -wood, noises reached us—shouts and stamping; -and then, mixed with the other sounds, I clearly -heard Kahwa’s voice. She was crying in anger -and pain, as if she was fighting, and fighting -desperately. A minute later we were near enough -to see, and a miserable sight it was that we saw.</p> - -<p>Out in the middle of the berry-patch, in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> -brilliant moonlight, was poor Kahwa with four -men. They had fastened ropes around her, and -two of them at the end of one rope on one side, -and two at the end of one on the other, were -dragging her across the middle of the patch. She -was fighting every inch of the way, but her -struggles against four men were useless, and -slowly, yard by yard, she was being dragged away -from us.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<a name="image_4" id="image_4"></a> -<img src="images/i073.jpg" width="500" height="500" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"> -<p class="caption">SLOWLY, YARD BY YARD, SHE WAS -BEING DRAGGED AWAY FROM US.</p> -</div> -<p class="centerref">[<a href="images/i073-l.jpg">Enlarge</a>]</p> -</div> - -<p>But if she could not fight four men, could not -we? There were four of us, and I said so to my -father. But he only grunted, and reminded me of -the thunder-sticks. It was only too true. Without -the thunder-sticks we should have had no difficulty -in meeting them, but with those weapons in their -hands it would only be sacrificing our lives in vain -to attempt a rescue. So there we had to stand -and watch, my mother all the time whimpering, -and my father growling, and sitting up on his -haunches and rubbing his nose in his chest. We -dared not show ourselves in the open, so we -followed the edge of the patch, keeping alongside -of the men, but in the shadow of the trees. They -pulled Kahwa across the middle of the patch into -the woods on the other side, and down to the river-bank, -where, we knew, there began an open path<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> -which the men had beaten in going to and from -their houses half a mile further on. Here there -were several houses in a bunch together. Inside -one of these they shut her, and then all went in -to another house themselves. We stayed around, -and two or three times later on we saw one or -more of the men come out and stand for awhile at -Kahwa’s door listening; but at last they came out -no more, and we saw the lights go out in their -house, and we knew that the men had gone to -sleep.</p> - -<p>Then we crept down cautiously till we could -hear Kahwa whimpering and growling through the -walls. My mother spoke to her, and there was -silence for a moment, and then, when mother -spoke again, the poor little thing recognised her -voice and squealed with delight. But what could -we do? We talked to her for awhile, and tried to -scratch away the earth from round the wall, in the -hope of getting at her; but it was all useless, and -as the day began to dawn nothing remained but to -make off before the men arose, and to crawl away -to hide ourselves in the woods again.</p> - -<p>What a wretched night that was! Hitherto I -do not think that I had thought much of Kahwa. -I had taken her as a matter of course, played<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> -with her and quarrelled with her by turns, without -stopping to think what life might be without her. -But now I thought of it, and as I lay awake -through the morning I realized how much she had -been to me, and wondered what the men would do -with her. Most of all I wondered why they should -have wanted to catch her at all. We had no wish -to do them any harm. We were nobody’s enemy; -least of all was little Kahwa. Why could not men -live in peace with us as we were willing to live in -peace with them?</p> - -<p>Long before it was dusk next evening we were -in the woods as near to the men’s houses as we -dared to go, but we could hear no sound of my -sister’s voice. There appeared to be only one -man about the place, and he was at work chopping -wood, until just at sunset, when the other three -men came back from down the stream, and we -noticed that they carried long ropes slung over -their arms. Were those the ropes with which they -had dragged Kahwa the night before? If so, had -they again, while we slept, dragged her off somewhere -else? We feared it must be so.</p> - -<p>Impatiently we waited until it was dark enough -to trust ourselves in the open near the houses, and -then we soon knew that our fears were justified.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> -The door of the house in which Kahwa had been -shut was open; the men went in and out of it, and -evidently Kahwa was not there. Nor was there -any trace of her about the buildings. So under -my father’s guidance we started on the path down -the stream by which the three men had returned, -and it was not long before we found the marks of -where she had struggled against her captors, and in -places the scent of her trail was still perceptible, in -spite of the strong man-smell which pervaded the -beaten path.</p> - -<p>So we followed the trail down until we came to -more houses; then made a circuit and followed on -again, still finding evidence that she had passed. -Soon we came to more houses, at ever shortening -intervals, until the bank of the stream on both -sides was either continuously occupied by houses -or showed traces of men being constantly at work -there. And beyond was the town itself. It was of -no use for us to go further. In the town we could -see lights streaming from many of the buildings, -and the shouting of men’s voices came to our ears. -We wandered round the outskirts of the town till -it was daylight, and then drew back into the hills -and lay down again, very sad and hungry—for -we had hardly thought of food—and very lonesome.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span></p> - -<p>Kahwa, we felt sure, was somewhere among -those houses in the town. But that was little -comfort to us. And all the time we wondered -what man wanted with her, and why he could -not have left us to be happy, as we had been -before he came.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> -</div> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span></p> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2> -<a name="chap_6" id="chap_6"></a> -<a href="#contents" class="chapref" title="Return to Table of Contents.">CHAPTER <abbr title="6">VI</abbr></a><br /> - -<span class="stitle">LIFE IN CAMP</span></h2> - - -<p><span class="smcap">One</span> of the results of Kahwa’s disappearance was -to make me much more solitary than I had ever -been before, not merely because I did not have her -to play with, but now, for the first time, I took to -wandering on excursions by myself. And these -excursions all had one object:—to find Kahwa.</p> - -<p>For some days after her capture we waited about -the outskirts of the town nearly all night long; but -on the third or fourth morning father made up his -mind that it was useless, and, though mother persuaded -him not to abandon the search for another -night or two, he insisted after that on giving up -and returning to the neighbourhood where we had -been living since the fire. So we turned our backs -upon the town, and, for my part very reluctantly, -went home.</p> - -<p>The moon was not yet much past the full, and -I can remember now how the berry-patch looked -that night as we passed it, lying white and shining<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> -in the moonlight. We saw no other bears at it, -and did not stop, but kept under the trees round -the edges, and went on to our favourite resting-place, -where, a few hundred yards from the river, -a couple of huge trees had at some time been -blown down. Round their great trunks as they -lay on the ground, young trees and a mass of elder-bushes -and other brushwood had sprung up, making -a dense thicket. The two logs lay side by side, and -in between them, with the tangle of bushes all -round and the branches of the other trees overhead, -there was a complete and impenetrable -shelter.</p> - -<p>We had used this place so much that a regular -path was worn to it through the bushes. This -night as we came near we saw recent prints of a -bear’s feet on the path, and the bear that made -them was evidently a big one. From the way father -growled when he saw them, I think he guessed at -once whose feet they were. I know that I had -my suspicions—suspicions which soon proved to -be correct.</p> - -<p>During our absence our enemy, the surly bear -that I have spoken of, had taken it into his head -that he would occupy our home. Of course he -had lived in this district much longer than we,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> -and, had this been his home when we first came, -we should never have thought of disputing -possession with him. But it had been our home -now, so far as we had any regular home at this -time of year, ever since our arrival after the fire, -while he had lived half a mile away. Now, however, -there he was, standing obstinately in the -pathway, swinging his head from side to side, and -evidently intending to fight rather than go away. -We all stopped, my father in front, my mother -next, and I behind. I have said that the stranger -was bigger than my father, and in an ordinary -meeting in the forest I do not think my father -would have attempted to stand up to him; but -this was different. It was our home, and we all -felt that he had no right there, but that, on the -contrary, he was behaving as he was out of pure -bad temper and a desire to bully us and make -himself unpleasant. Moreover, the events of the -last few days had rendered my father and mother -irritable, and they were in no mood to be polite to -anybody.</p> - -<p>Usually it takes a long time to make two bears -fight. We begin slowly, growling and walking sideways -towards each other, and only getting nearer -inch by inch. But on this occasion there was not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span> -much room in the path, and father was thoroughly -exasperated. He hardly waited at all, but just -stood sniffling with his nose up for a minute to -see if the other showed any sign of going away, -and then, without further warning, threw himself -at him. I had never seen my father in a real -fight, and now he was simply splendid. Before -the stranger had time to realize what was happening, -he was flung back on his haunches, and in a -moment they were rolling over and over in one -mass in the bushes. At first it was impossible to -see what was going on, but, in spite of the ferocity -of my father’s rush, it soon became evident that -in the end the bigger bear must win. My father’s -face was buried in the other’s left shoulder, and he -had evidently got a good grip there; but he was -almost on his back, for the stranger had worked -himself uppermost, and we could see that he was -trying to get his teeth round my father’s fore leg. -Had he once got hold, nothing could have saved -the leg, bone and all, from being crushed to pieces, -and father, if not killed, would certainly have been -beaten, and probably crippled for life. And sooner -or later it seemed certain that the stranger would -get his hold.</p> - -<p>Then it was that my mother interfered. Hurling<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> -herself at him, she threw her whole weight into one -swinging blow on the side of the big bear’s head, and -in another second had plunged her teeth into the -back of his neck. My father’s grip in the fleshy part -of the shoulder, however painful it might be, had -little real effect; but where my mother had attacked, -behind the right ear, was a different matter. The -stranger was obliged to leave my father’s leg alone -and to turn and defend himself against this new -onslaught; but, big as he was, he now had more -on his hands than he could manage. As soon as he -turned his attention to my mother, my father let -go of his shoulder, and in his turn tried to grip -the other’s fore-leg. There was nothing for the -stranger to do now but to get out of it as fast as -he could; and even I could not help admiring -his strength as he lifted himself up and shook -mother off as lightly as she would have shaken me. -She escaped the wicked blow that he aimed at her, -and dodged out of his reach, and my father, letting -go his hold of the fore-leg, did the same. The -stranger, with one on either side of him, backed -himself against one of the fallen logs and waited -for them to attack him. But that they had no wish -to do. All that they wanted was that he should -go away, and they told him so. They moved aside<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> -from the path on either hand to give him space to -go, and slowly and surlily he began to move.</p> - -<p>I was still standing in the pathway. Suddenly -he made a movement as if to rush at me, but my -father and mother jumped towards him simultaneously, -while I plunged into the bushes, and he -was compelled to turn and defend himself against -my parents again. But they did not attack him, -though they followed him slowly along the path. -Every step or two he stopped to make an ugly -start back at one or the other, but he knew that -he was overmatched, and yard by yard he made off, -my father and mother following him as far as the -edge of the thicket, and standing to watch him out -of sight. And I was glad when he was safely gone -and they came back to me.</p> - -<p>It was not a pleasant home-coming, and we were -all restless and nervous for days afterwards; and -then it was that I vowed to myself that, if I ever -grew up and the opportunity came, I would wreak -vengeance on that bear.</p> - -<p>If we were all nervous, I was the worst, and in -my restlessness took to going off by myself. Up -to this time I do not think I had ever been a -hundred yards away from one or other of my -parents, and now, when I started out alone, it was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> -always in horrible fear of meeting the big bear -when there was no one to stand by me. Gradually, -however, I acquired confidence in myself, making -each night a longer trip alone, and each night -going in the direction of the town. At last, one -night, I found myself at the edge of the town -itself, and now when I was alone I did not stop -at the first building that I came to, but very -cautiously—for the man-smell was thick around -me, and terrified me in spite of myself—very -cautiously I began to thread my way in between the -buildings.<a name="Anchor-3" id="Anchor-3"></a><a href="#Footnote-3" class="fnanchor" title="Go to footnote 3.">[3]</a> As I snuffed round each building, I -found all sorts of new things to eat, with strange -tastes, but most of them were good. That the men -were not all asleep was plain from the shouts and -noises which reached me at times from the centre -of the big town, where, as I could see by occasional -glimpses which I caught through the nearer buildings, -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span>many of the houses had bright lights streaming -from them all night. Avoiding these, I -wandered on, picking up things to eat, and all the -while keeping ears and nose open for a sign of -Kahwa.</p> - -<p>I stayed thus, moving in and out among the -buildings, till dawn. Once a dog inside a house -barked furiously as I came near, and I heard a -man’s voice speaking to it, and I hurried on. As -the sky began to lighten, I made my way out into -the woods again, and rejoined my father and mother -before the sun was up. When I joined them, -my father growled at me because I smelled of -man.</p> - -<p>The next night found me down in the town -again. I began to know my way about. I -learned which houses contained dogs, and avoided -them. Other animals besides myself, I discovered, -came into the town at night for the sake of the -food which they found lying about—coyotes and -wood-rats, and polecats; but though bears would -occasionally visit the buildings nearest to the woods, -no other penetrated into the heart of the town as -I did. It had a curious fascination for me, and -gradually I grew so much at home, that even when -a man came through the buildings towards me, I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> -only slipped out of his way round a corner, and—for -man’s sight and smell are both miserably bad -compared with ours—he never had a suspicion that -I was near.</p> - -<p>On the third or fourth night I had gone nearer -to the lighted buildings than I had ever been -before, when I heard a sound that made me stop -dead and throw myself up on my haunches to -listen. Yes, there could be no doubt of it! It was -Kahwa’s voice. Anyone who did not know her -might have thought that she was angry, but I -knew better. She was making exactly the noise -that she used to make when romping with me, and -I knew that she was not angry, but only pretending, -and that she must be playing with someone. I -suppose I ought to have been glad that she was -alive and happy enough to be able to play, but -it only enraged me and made me wonder who her -playmates might be. Then gradually the truth, -the incredible truth, dawned upon me. Truly -incredible it seemed at first, but there could be -no doubt of it. <em>She was playing with man.</em></p> - -<p>I could hear men’s voices speaking to her as if -in anger, and then I heard her voice and theirs in -turn again, and at last I recognised that their anger -was no more real than hers. The sounds came<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> -from where the lights were brightest, and it was -long before I could make up my mind to go near -enough to be able to see. At last, however, I -crept to a place from which I could look out -between two buildings, keeping in the deep shade -myself, and I can see now every detail of what -met my eyes as plainly as if it was all before me -at this minute.</p> - -<p>There was a building larger than those around -it, with a big door wide open, and from the door and -from the windows on either side poured streams -of light out into the night. In the middle of the -light, and almost in front of the door, was a group -of five or six men, and in the centre of the group -was Kahwa, tied to a post by a chain which was -fastened to a collar round her neck. I saw a man -stoop down and hold something out to her—presumably -something to eat—and then, as she -came to take it from the hand which he held -out, he suddenly drew it away and hit her on the -side of the head with his other hand. He did not -hit hard enough to hurt her, and it was evidently -done in play, because as he did it she got up on -her hind-legs and slapped at him, first with one -hand and then with the other, growling all the -time in angry make-believe. Sometimes the man<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> -came too near, and Kahwa would hit him, and -the other men all burst out laughing. Then I saw -him walk deliberately right up to her, and they took -hold of each other and wrestled, just as Kahwa -and I used to do by the old place under the cedar-trees -when we were little cubs. I could see, too, -that now and then she was not doing her best, -and did not want to hurt him, and he certainly -did not hurt her.</p> - -<p>At last the men went into the building, leaving -Kahwa alone outside; but other men were continually -coming out of, or going into, the open -door, and I was afraid to approach her, or even to -make any noise to tell her of my presence. So I -sat in the shade of the buildings and watched. -Nearly every man who passed stopped for a -minute and spoke to her, but none except the -man whom I had first seen tried to play with her -or went within her reach. The whole thing -seemed to me incredible, but there it was under -my eyes, and, somehow, it made me feel terribly -lonely—all the lonelier, I think, because she had -these new friends; for as friends she undoubtedly -regarded them, while I could not even go near -enough to speak to her.</p> - -<p>At last so many men came out of the building<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> -that I was afraid to stay. Some of them went one -way, and some another, and I had to keep constantly -moving my position to avoid being seen. -In doing so I found myself further and further -away from the centre of the town, and nearer to -the outskirts. The men shouted and laughed, and -made so much noise that I did not dare to go back, -but made my way out into the woods. And for -the first time I did not go home to my father and -mother, but stayed by myself in the brush.</p> - -<p>The next evening I again made my way into -the town, and once more saw the same sights as on -the preceding night. This evening, however, there -was a wind blowing, and it blew directly from me, -as I stood in the same place, to Kahwa in front of -the lighted door. Suddenly, while she was in the -middle of her play, I saw her stop and begin to -snuff up the wind with every sign of excitement. -Then she called to me. Answer I dared not, but -I knew that she had recognised me and would -understand why I did not speak. While she was -still calling to me, the man with whom she had -been playing—the same man as on the night before—came -up and gave her a cuff on the head, and -she lost her temper in earnest. She hit at him -angrily, but he jumped out of her way (how I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> -wished she had caught him!), and, after trying for -awhile to tempt her to play again, he and the -other men left her and went into the building. -Then she gave all her time to me, and at last, -when nobody was near, I spoke just loud enough -for her to hear. She simply danced with excitement, -running to the end of her chain toward me -until it threw her back on to her hind-legs, circling -round and round the stump to which she was -fastened, and then charging out to the end of her -chain again, all the time whimpering and calling -to me in a way which made me long to go to her.</p> - -<p>I did not dare to show myself, however, but -waited until, as on the night before, just as it was -beginning to get light, the men all came out of the -building and scattered in different directions. This -time, however, I did not go back to the woods, -but merely shifted out of the men’s way behind -the dark corners of the buildings, hoping that -somehow I would find an opportunity of getting -to speak to Kahwa. At last the building was -quiet, and only the man who had played with -Kahwa seemed to be left, and I saw the lights -inside begin to grow less. I hoped that then the -door would be shut, and the man inside would go -to sleep, as I knew that men did in other houses<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> -when the lights disappeared at night; but while -there was still some light issuing from door and -windows the man came out and went up to -Kahwa, and, unfastening the chain from the stump, -proceeded to lead her away somewhere to the rear -of the building. She struggled and tried to pull -away from him, but he jerked her along with the -chain, and I could see that she was afraid of him, -and did not dare to fight him in earnest, and bit -by bit he dragged her along. I followed and saw -him go to a sort of pen, or a small enclosure -of high walls without any roof, in which he left -her, and then went in to his own building. And -soon I saw the last lights go out inside and everything -was quiet.</p> - -<p>I stole round to the pen and spoke to Kahwa -through the walls. She was crazy at the sound -of my voice, and I could hear her running round -and round inside, dragging the chain after her. -Could she not climb out? I asked her. No; the -walls were made of straight, smooth boards with -nothing that she could get her claws into, and -much too high to jump. But we found a crack -close to the ground through which our noses -would almost touch, and that was some consolation.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span></p> - -<p>I stayed there as long as I dared, and told her -all that had happened since she was taken away—of -the fight with the strange bear, and how I had -been in the town alone looking for her night after -night; and she told me her story, parts of which I -could not believe at the time, though now I can -understand them better.</p> - -<p>What puzzled me, and at the time made me -thoroughly angry, was the way in which she -spoke of the man whom I had seen playing with -her, and who had dragged her into the pen. She -was afraid of him in a curious way—in much the -same way as she was afraid of father or mother. -The idea that she could feel any affection for him I -would have scouted as preposterous; but after the -experiences of the last few nights nothing seemed -too wonderful to be true, and it was plain that all -her thoughts centred in him and he represented -everything in life to her. Without him she would -have no food, but as it was she had plenty. He -never came to her without bringing things to eat, -delightful things sometimes; and in particular she -told me of pieces of white stuff, square and rough -like small stones, but sweeter and more delicious -than honey. Of course, I know now that it was -sugar; but as she told me about it then, and how<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> -good it was, and how the man always had pieces of -it in his pockets, which he gave her while they were -playing together, I found myself envying her, and -even wishing that the man would take me to play -with, too.</p> - -<p>But as we talked the day was getting lighter, -and, promising to come again next night, I slipped -away in the dawn into the woods.</p> - -<p>Night after night I used to go and speak to -Kahwa. Sometimes I did not go until it was -nearly daylight, and she was already in her pen. -Sometimes I went earlier, and watched her with -the men before the door of the building, and often -I saw the man who was her master playing with -her and giving her lumps of sugar, and I could tell -from the way in which she ate it how good it was. -Many times I had narrow escapes of being seen, -for I grew careless, and trotted among the houses -as if I were in the middle of the forest. More -than once I came close to a man unexpectedly, for -the man-smell was so strong everywhere that a -single man more or less in my neighbourhood -made no difference, and I had to trust to my eyes -and ears entirely. Somehow, however, I managed -always to keep out of their way, and during this -time I used to eat very little wild food, living<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> -almost altogether on the things that I picked up in -the town. And during all these days and nights -I never saw my father or my mother.</p> - -<p>Then one evening an eventful thing happened.</p> - -<p>The door of Kahwa’s pen closed with a latch -from the outside—a large piece of iron which -lifted and fell, and was then kept in place by a -block of wood. I had spent a great deal of time -at that latch, lifting it with my nose, and biting -and worrying it, in the hopes of breaking it off -or opening the door; but when I did that I was -always standing on my hind-legs, so as to reach up -to it, with my fore-feet on the door, and, of course, -my weight kept the door shut. But that never -occurred to me. One evening, however, I happened -to be standing up and sniffing at the latch, -with my fore-feet not on the door itself, but on the -wall beside the door. It happened that, just as I -lifted the latch with my nose, Kahwa put her -fore-feet against the door on the inside. To my -astonishment, the door swung open into my face, -and Kahwa came rolling out. If we had only -thought it out, we could just as well have done that -on the first night, instead of trying to reach each -other for nearly two weeks through a narrow crack<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> -in the wall until nearly all the skin was rubbed off -our noses.</p> - -<p>However, it was done at last, and we were so -glad that we thought of nothing else. Now we -were free to go back into the woods and take up -our old life again with father and mother. Would -it not be glorious, I asked? Yes, she said, it would -be glorious. To go off into the woods, and never, -never, never, I said, see or think of man again.</p> - -<p>Yes—yes, she said, but——Of course it would -be very glorious, but——Well, there was the -white stuff—the sugar—she could come back once -in a while—just once in a while—couldn’t she, to -see the man and get a lump or two?</p> - -<p>I am afraid I lost my temper. Here was what -ought to have been a moment of complete happiness -spoiled by her greediness. Of course she -could not come back, I told her. If she did she -would never get away a second time. We would -go to father and mother and persuade them to -move just as far away from man as they could. -Instead of being delighted, the prospect only made -her gloomy and thoughtful. Of course she wanted -to see father and mother, but—but—but——There -was always that ‘but’—and the thought of -the man and the sugar.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span></p> - -<p>While we were arguing, the time came when -I usually left the town for the day, and the immediate -thing to be done was to get her away from -that place and out into the woods. Then, I -thought, I could prevent her going back into the -town; so by pointing out to her that, if she wanted -to, she could come back at any time, I persuaded -her to move, and we started off through the buildings -on the road that I usually took back to the -forest. But at the first step we were reminded of -her chain, which was still attached to her collar, -and dragged along the ground as she walked. It -was a nuisance, but there was no way to get it off -at the moment. Perhaps, when we were safe away -and had plenty of time, we could find some way -of loosening it, but at present the first thing was to -get clear of the town.</p> - -<p>So we started, but the path was new to Kahwa, -who, of course, had never been away from the -pen and the door of the building where her -master lived, and had seen nothing of the town -except as she was being dragged in by the men -who had caught her, and then she had been too -busy fighting to pay any attention to her surroundings. -So at almost every step she must needs stop -to smell something. Meanwhile it was getting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> -lighter, and we began to hear noises of men moving -about inside the buildings. Once a door opened, -and I only just had time to dodge back and keep -Kahwa behind as a man stepped out into the air. -But we succeeded in reaching the very edge of the -town before anything serious happened.</p> - -<p>The houses were all made of wood, those in the -middle, like that where Kahwa had lived, being of -boards nailed together, and those on the outskirts -of logs laid upon each other whole, with the bark -still on, like the first houses that we had seen up -the river. There was one of this last kind in -particular, which stood away from all the others -almost inside the forest. It was the first house -that I came to each evening on approaching the -town, and the last one that I passed on leaving it; -but I always gave it a wide berth, because there -was a dog there—a small dog, it is true, but a -noisy one—and the first time that I came that way -he had seen me, and made such a fuss that I had to -bolt back into the forest and wait a long time before -I dared to go on again.</p> - -<p>Now, however, Kahwa insisted on going up to -snuff around this house. I warned her of the dog, -but the truth was that she had grown accustomed -to dogs, and I think had really lost her fear of men.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span> -So she went close up to the house, and began -smelling round the walls to see if there was anything -good to eat, while I stood back under the -trees fretting and impatient of her delay.</p> - -<p>Having sniffed all along one side of the house, -she passed round the corner to the back. In turning -the corner she came right upon the dog, who -flew at her at once, though he was not much bigger -than her head. Whether she was accustomed to -dogs or not, the sudden attack startled her, and -she turned round to run back to me. In doing so -she just grazed the corner of the house, and the -next instant she was rolling head over heels on the -ground. The end of her chain had caught in the -crack between the ends of two of the logs at the -corner, and she was held as firmly as if she had -been tied to her stump in front of the door. As -she rolled over, the dog jumped upon her, small as -he was, yelping all the time, and barking furiously. -I thought it would only be a momentary delay, -but the chain held fast, and all the while the dog’s -attacks made it impossible for her to give her attention -to trying to tear it free.</p> - -<p>A minute later, and the door of the house burst -open, and a man came running out, carrying, to -my horror, a thunder-stick in his hand. Kahwa<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> -and the dog were all mixed up together on the -ground, and I saw the man stop and stand still -a moment and point the thunder-stick at her. And -then came that terrible noise of the thunder-stick -speaking.</p> - -<p>Too frightened to see what happened, I took to -my heels, and plunged into the wood as fast as -I could, without the man or the dog having seen -me. I ran on for some distance till I felt safe -enough to stop and listen, but there was not a -sound, and no sign of Kahwa coming after me. I -waited and waited until the sun came up, and still -there was no sign of Kahwa, until at last I summoned -up courage to steal slowly back again. As -I came near I heard the dog barking at intervals, -and then the voices of men. Very cautiously I -crept near enough to get a view of the house from -behind, and as I came in sight of the corner where -Kahwa had fallen I saw her for the second time—just -as on that wretched evening at the berry-patch—surrounded -by a group of three or four -men. But this time they had no ropes round her, -and were not trying to drag her away; only they -stood talking and looking down at her, while she -lay dead on the ground before them.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span></p> -</div> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2> -<a name="chap_7" id="chap_7"></a> -<a href="#contents" class="chapref" title="Return to Table of Contents.">CHAPTER <abbr title="7">VII</abbr></a> <br /> - -<span class="stitle">THE PARTING OF THE WAYS</span></h2> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Now</span> indeed I was truly lonely. During the -three or four weeks that had passed since I had -seen my father or mother, I had in a measure -learned to rely upon myself; nor had I so far felt -the separation keenly, because I knew that every -evening I should see Kahwa. Now she was gone -for ever. There was no longer any object in going -into the town, and the terror of that last scene was -still so vivid in my mind that I wished never to -see man again.</p> - -<p>It was true that I had feared man instinctively -from the first, but familiarity with him had for a -while overcome that fear. Now it returned, and -with the fear was mingled another feeling—a feeling -of definite hatred. Originally, though afraid of -him, I had borne man no ill-will whatever, and -would have been entirely content to go on living -beside him in peace and friendliness, just as we -lived with the deer and the beaver. Man himself<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span> -made that impossible, and now I no longer wished -it. I hated him—hated him thoroughly. Had it -not been for dread of the thunder-sticks, I should -have gone down into the town and attacked the -first man that I met. I would have persuaded -other bears to go with me to rage through the -buildings, destroying every man that we could find; -and though this was impossible, I made up my -mind that it would be a bad day for any man -whom I might meet alone, when unprotected by -the weapon that gave him so great an advantage.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile my present business was, somehow -and somewhere, to go on living. On that first -evening, amid my conflict of emotions, it was some -time before I could bring myself to turn my back -definitely upon the town; for it was difficult to -realize at once that there was in truth no longer -any Kahwa there, nor any reason for my going -again among the buildings, and it was late in the -night before I finally started to look for my father -and mother. I went, of course, to the place where -I had left them, and where the fight with the -stranger had taken place.</p> - -<p>They were not there when I arrived, but I saw -that they had spent the preceding day at home, -and would, in all probability, be back soon after it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> -was light. So I stayed in the immediate neighbourhood, -and before sunrise they returned. My mother -was glad to see me, but I do not think I can say -as much for my father. I told them where I had -been, and of my visits to the town, and of poor -Kahwa’s death; and though at the time father did -not seem to pay much attention to what I said, -next day he suggested that we should move further -away from the neighbourhood of men.</p> - -<p>The following afternoon we started, making our -way back along the stream by which we had descended, -and soon finding ourselves once more in -the region that had been swept by the fire. It was -still desolate, but the two months that had passed -had made a wonderful difference. It was covered -by the bright red flowers of a tall plant, standing -nearly as high as a bear’s head, which shoots up all -over the charred soil whenever a tract of forest is -burned. Other undergrowth may come up in the -following spring, but for the first year nothing -appears except the red ‘fireweed,’ and that grows -so thickly that the burnt wood is a blaze of colour, -out of which the blackened trunks of the old trees -stand up naked and gaunt.</p> - -<p>We passed several houses of men by the waterside, -and gave them a wide berth. We learned<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> -from the beavers and the ospreys that a number -of men had gone up the stream during the summer, -and few had come back, so that now there must -be many more of them in the district swept by -the fire than there had been before. We did not -wish to live in the burnt country, however, because -there was little food to be found there, and under -the fireweed the ground was still covered with a -layer of the bitter black stuff, which, on being disturbed, -got into one’s throat and eyes and nostrils. -So we turned southwards along the edge of the -track of the fire, and soon found ourselves in a -country that was entirely new to us, though differing -little in general appearance from the other -places with which we were familiar—the same -unbroken succession of hills and gulches covered -with the dense growth of good forest trees. It -was, in fact, bears’ country; and in it we felt at -home.</p> - -<p>For the most part we travelled in the morning -and evening; but the summer was gone now, and -on the higher mountains it was sometimes bitterly -cold, so we often kept on moving all day. We -were not going anywhere in particular: only endeavouring -to get away from man, and, if possible, -to find a region where he had never been. But it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> -seemed as if man now was pushing in everywhere. -We did not see him, but continually we came across -the traces of him along the banks of the streams. -The beavers, and the kingfishers, and the ospreys, -of course, know everything that goes on along the -rivers. Nothing can pass upstream or down without -going by the beaver-dams, and the beavers are -always on the watch. You might linger about a -beaver-dam all day, and except for the smell, which -a man would not notice, you would not believe -there was a beaver near. But they are watching -you from the cracks and holes in their homes, and -in the evening, if they are not afraid of you, you -will be astonished to see twenty or thirty beavers -come out to play about what you thought was -an empty house. We never passed a dam without -asking about man, and always it was the same tale. -Men had been there a week ago, or the day before, -or when the moon last was full. And the kingfishers -and the ospreys told us the same things. -So we kept on our way southward.</p> - -<p>As the days went on I grew to think less of -Kahwa; the memory of those nights spent in the -town, with the lights, and the strange noises, and -the warm man-smell all about me, began to fade -until they all seemed more like incidents of a dream<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span> -than scenes which I had actually lived through only -a few weeks before. I began to feel more as I used -to feel in the good old days before the fire, and -came again to be a part of the wild, wholesome -life of the woods. Moreover, I was growing; my -mother said that I was growing fast. No puma -would have dared to touch me now, and my unusual -experiences about the town had bred in me -a spirit of independence and self-reliance, so that -other cubs of my own age whom we met, and who, -of course, had lived always with their parents, always -seemed to me younger than I; and certainly I was -bigger and stronger than any first-year bear that I -saw. On the whole, I would have been fairly contented -with life had it not been for the estrangement -which was somehow growing up between my -father and myself. I could not help feeling that, -though I knew not why, he would have been glad -to have me go away again. So I kept out of his -way as much as possible, seldom speaking to him, -and, of course, not venturing to share any food that -he found. On the first evening after my return he -had rolled over an old log, and mother and I went -up as a matter of course to see what was there; -but he growled at me in a way that made me -stand off while he and mother finished the fungi<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span> -and the beetles. After that I kept my distance. -It did not matter much, for I was well able to -forage for myself. But I would have preferred to -have him kinder. His unkindness, however, did -not prevent him from taking for himself anything -which he wanted that I had found. One day I -came across some honey, from which he promptly -drove me away, and I had to look on while he and -mother shared the feast between them.</p> - -<p>At last we came to a stream where the beavers -told us that no man had been seen in the time of -any member of their colony then living. The -stream, which was here wide enough to be a river, -came from the west, and for two or three days -we followed it down eastwards, and found no trace -or news of man; so we turned back up it again—back -past the place where we had first struck it—and -on along its course for another day’s journey -into the mountains. It was, perhaps, too much -to hope that we had lighted on a place where man -would never come; but at least we knew that for -a distance of a week’s travelling in all directions -he never yet had been, and it might be many years -before he came. Meanwhile we should have a -chance to live our lives in peace.</p> - -<p>Here we stayed, moving about very little, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> -feeding as much as we could; for winter was -coming on, and a bear likes to be fat and well fed -before his long sleep. It rained a good deal now, -as it always does in the mountains in the late -autumn, and as a general rule the woods were -full of mist all day, in which we went about -tearing the roots out of the soft earth, eating -the late blueberries where we could find them, -and the cranberries and the elderberries, which -were ripe on the bushes, now and then coming -across a clump of nut-trees, and once in a while, -the greatest of all treats, revelling in a feast of -honey.</p> - -<p>One morning, after a cold and stormy night, we -saw that the tops of the highest mountains were -covered with snow. It might be a week or two -yet before the snow fell over the country as a -whole, or it might be only a day or two; for the -wind was blowing from the north, biting cold, and -making us feel numb and drowsy. So my father -decided that it was time to make our homes for -the winter. He had already fixed upon a spot -where a tree had fallen and torn out its roots, -making a cave well shut in on two sides, and -blocked on a third by another fallen log; and here, -without thinking, I had taken it as a matter of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> -course that we should somehow all make our -winter homes together. But when that morning -he started out, with mother after him, and I -attempted to follow, he drove me away. I -followed yet for a while, but he kept turning -back and growling at me, and at last told me -bluntly that I must go and shift for myself. I -took it philosophically, I think, but it was with -a heavy heart that I turned away to seek a winter -home for myself.</p> - -<p>It did not take me long to decide on the spot. -At the head of a narrow gully, where at some -time or other a stream must have run, there was -a tree half fallen, and leaning against the hillside. -A little digging behind the tree would make as -snug and sheltered a den as I could want. So I -set to work, and in the course of a few hours I -had made a sufficiently large hollow, and into it -I scraped all the leaves and pine-needles in the -neighbourhood, and, by working about inside and -turning round and round, I piled them up on all -sides until I had a nest where I was perfectly -sheltered, with only an opening in front large -enough to go in and out of. This opening I -would almost close when the time came, but for -the present I left it open and lived inside, sleeping<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> -much of the time, but still continuing for a week -or ten days to go out in the mornings and evenings -for food. But it was getting colder and colder, -and the woods had become strangely silent. The -deer had gone down to the lower ground at the -first sign of coming winter, and the coyotes and the -wolves had followed to spend the cold months in -the foot-hills and on the plains about the haunts -of man. The woodchucks were already asleep -below-ground, and of the birds only the woodpeckers -and the crossbills, and some smaller birds -fluttering among the pine-branches, remained. -There was a fringe of ice along the edges of the -streams, and the kingfishers and the ospreys had -both flown to where the waters would remain open -throughout the year. The beavers had been very -busy for some time, but now, if one went to the -nearest dam in the evening, there was not a sign -of life.</p> - -<p>At last the winter came. It had been very cold -and gray for a day or two, and I felt dull and -torpid. And then, one morning towards mid-day, -the white flakes began to fall. There had been a -few little flurries of snow before, lasting only for -a minute or two; but this was different. The -great flakes fell slowly and softly, and soon the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> -whole landscape began to grow white. Through -the opening in my den I watched the snow falling -for some time, but did not venture out; and as -the afternoon wore on, and it only fell faster and -faster, I saw that it would soon pile up and close -the door upon me.</p> - -<p>There was no danger of its coming in, for I had -taken care that the roof overhung far enough to -prevent anything falling in from above, and the den -was too well sheltered for the wind to drift the -snow inside. So I burrowed down into my leaves -and pine-needles, and worked them up on both -sides till only a narrow slit of an opening remained, -and through this slit, sitting back on my haunches -against the rear of the little cave, I watched the -white wall rising outside. All that night and all -next day it snowed, and by the second evening -there was hardly a ray of light coming in. I -remember feeling a certain pride in being all alone, -in the warm nest made by myself, for the first time -in my life; and I sat back and mumbled at my -paw, and grew gradually drowsier and drowsier, -till I hardly knew when the morning came, for -I was very sleepy and the daylight scarcely pierced -the wall of snow outside. And before another -night fell I was asleep, while outside the white<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> -covering which was to shut me in for the next -four months at least, was growing thicker until it -was many feet deep all around, and under it I was -as safe and snug up there in the heart of the -mountains as ever a man could be in any house -that he might build.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> -</div> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span></p> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2> -<a name="chap_8" id="chap_8"></a> -<a href="#contents" class="chapref" title="Return to Table of Contents.">CHAPTER <abbr title="8">VIII</abbr></a> <br /> - -<span class="stitle">ALONE IN THE WORLD</span></h2> - - - -<p><span class="smcap">Have</span> you any idea how frightfully stiff one is -after nearly five months’ consecutive sleep? Of -course, a bear is not actually asleep for the greater -part of the time, but in a deliciously drowsy condition -that is halfway between sleeping and waking. -It is very good. Of course, you lose all count and -thought of time; days and weeks and months are -all the same. You only know that, having been -asleep, you are partly awake again. There is no -light, but you can see the wall of your den in front -of you, and dimly you know that, while all the -world outside is snow-covered and swept with -bitter winds, and the earth is gripped solid in the -frost, you are very warm and comfortable. Changes -of temperature do not reach you, and you sit and -croon to yourself and mumble your paws, and all -sorts of thoughts and tangled scraps of dreams go -swimming through your head until, before you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> -know it, you have forgotten everything and are -asleep again.</p> - -<p>Then again you find yourself awake. Is it hours -or days or weeks since you were last awake? You -do not know, and it does not matter. So you croon, -and mumble, and dream, and sleep again; and -wake, and croon, and mumble, and dream. Sometimes -you are conscious of feeling stiff, and think -you will change your position; but, after all, it -does not matter. Nothing matters; for you are -already floating off again, the wall of your den -grows indistinct, and you are away in dreams once -more for an hour, or a day, or a week.</p> - -<p>At last a day comes when you wake into something -more like complete consciousness than you -have known since you shut yourself up. There is -a new feeling in the air; a sense of moisture and -fresh smells are mingling with the warm dry scent -of your den. And you are aware that you have -not changed your position for more than a quarter -of a year, but have been squatting on your heels, -with your back against the wall and your nose -folded into your paws across your breast; and you -want to stretch your hind-legs dreadfully. But -you do not do it. It is still too comfortable where -you are. You may move a little, and have a vague<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> -idea that it might be rather nice outside. But you -do not go to see; you only take the other paw into -your mouth, and, still crooning to yourself, you are -asleep again.</p> - -<p>This happens again and again, and each time the -change in the feeling of the air is more marked, and -the scents of the new year outside grow stronger -and more pungent. At last one day comes daylight, -where the snow has melted from the opening -in front of you, and with the daylight come the -notes of birds and the ringing of the woodpecker—rat-tat-tat-tat! -rat-tat-tat-tat!—from a tree near -by. But even these signs that the spring is at hand -again would not tempt you out if it were not for -another feeling that begins to assert itself, and -will not let you rest. You find you are hungry, -horribly hungry. It is of no use to say to yourself -that you are perfectly snug and contented -where you are, and that there is all the spring -and summer to get up in. You are no longer -contented. It is nearly five months since you -had your last meal, and you will not have another -till you go out for yourself and get it. Mumbling -your paws will not satisfy you. There is really -nothing for it but to get up.</p> - -<p>But, oh, what a business it is, that getting up!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> -Your shoulders are cramped and your back is stiff; -and as for your legs underneath you, you wonder -if they will really ever get supple and strong again. -First you lift your head from your breast and try -moving your neck about, and sniff at the walls of -your den. Then you unfold your arms, and—ooch!—how -they crack, first one and then the -other! At last you begin to roll from one side -to the other, and try to stretch each hind-leg in -turn; then, cautiously letting yourself drop on all -fours, you give a step, and before you know it you -have staggered out into the open air.</p> - -<p>It is very early in the morning, and the day is -just breaking, and all the mountain-side is covered -with a clinging pearly mist; but to your eyes the -light seems very strong, and the smell of the new -moist earth and the resinous scent of the pines -almost hurt your nostrils. One side of the gully -in front of you is brown and bare, but in the -bottom, and clinging to the other side, are patches -of moist and half-melted snow, and on all sides -you hear the drip of falling moisture and the -ripple of little streams of water which are running -away to swell the creeks and rivers in every valley -bottom.</p> - -<p>You are shockingly unsteady on your feet, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> -feel very dazed and feeble; but you are also -hungrier than ever now, with the keen morning -air whetting your appetite, and the immediate -business ahead of you is to find food. So you -turn to the bank at your side and begin to -grub; and as you grub you wander on, eating -the roots that you scratch up and the young -shoots of plants that are appearing here and there. -And all the time the day is growing, and the sensation -is coming back to your limbs, and your hunger -is getting satisfied, and you are wider and wider -awake. And, thoroughly interested in what you -are about, before you are aware of it, you are -fairly started on another year of life.</p> - -<p>That is how a bear begins each spring. It may -be a few days later or a few days earlier when -one comes out; but the sensations are the same. -You are always just as stiff, and the smells are as -pungent, and the light is as strong, and the hunger -as great. For the first few days you really think -of nothing but of finding enough to eat. As soon -as you have eaten, and eaten until you think you -are satisfied, you are hungry again; and so you -wander round looking for food, and going back to -your den to sleep.</p> - -<p>That spring when I came out it was very much<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> -as it had been the spring before, when I was a little -cub. The squirrels were chattering in the trees (I -wondered whether old Blacky had been burned in -the fire), and the woodpecker was as busy as ever—rat-tat-tat-tat! -rat-tat-tat-tat!—overhead. There -were several woodchucks—fat, waddling things—living -in the same gully with me, and they had -been abroad for some days when I woke up. On -my way down to the stream on that first morning, -I found a porcupine in my path, but did not stop -to slap it. By the river’s bank the little brown-coated -minks were hunting among the grass, and -by the dam the beavers were hard at work protecting -and strengthening their house against the spring -floods, which were already rising.</p> - -<p>It was only a couple of hundred yards or so -from my den to the stream, and for the first few -days I hardly went further than that. But it was -impossible that I should not all the time—that is, -as soon as I could think of anything except my -hunger—be contrasting this spring with the spring -before, when Kahwa and I had played about the -rock and the cedar-trees, and I had tumbled down -the hill. And the more I thought of it, the less -I liked being alone. And my father and mother, -I knew, must be somewhere close by me—for I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> -presumed they had spent the winter in the spot -that they had chosen—so I made up my mind to go -and join them again.</p> - -<p>It was in the early evening that I went, about a -week after I had come out of my winter-quarters, -and I had no trouble in finding the place; but when -I did find it I also found things that I did not -expect.</p> - -<p>‘Surely,’ I said to myself as I came near, ‘that is -little Kahwa’s voice!’ There could be no doubt of -it. She was squealing just as she used to do when -she tried to pull me away from the rock by my -hind-foot. So I hurried on to see what it could -mean, and suddenly the truth dawned upon me.</p> - -<p>My parents had two new children. I had never -thought of that possibility. I heard my mother’s -voice warning the cubs that someone was coming, -and as I appeared the young ones ran and snuggled -up to her, and stared at me as if I was a stranger -and they were afraid of me, as I suppose they were. -It made me feel awkward, and almost as if my -mother was a stranger, too; but after standing still -a little time and watching them I walked up. -Mother met me kindly, but, somehow, not like a -mother meeting her own cub, but like a she-bear -meeting any he-bear in the forest. The cubs kept<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span> -behind her and out of the way. I spoke to mother -and rubbed noses with her, and told her that I was -glad to see her. She evidently thought well of me, -and I was rather surprised, when standing beside -her, to find that she was not nearly so much bigger -than I as I had supposed.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<a name="image_5" id="image_5"></a> -<img src="images/i124.jpg" width="500" height="500" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"> -<p class="caption">AS I APPEARED THE YOUNG ONES RAN AND SNUGGLED UP TO HER.</p> -</div> -<p class="centerref">[<a href="images/i124-l.jpg">Enlarge</a>]</p> -</div> - -<p>But before I had been there more than a minute -mother gave me warning that father was coming, -and, turning, I saw him walking down the hillside -towards us. He saw me at the same time, and -stopped and growled. At first, I think, not knowing -who I was, he was astonished to see my mother -talking to a strange bear. When he did recognise -me, however, I might still have been a stranger, for -any friendliness that he showed. He sat up on his -haunches and growled, and then came on slowly, -swinging his head, and obviously not at all disposed -to welcome me. Again I was surprised, to -see that he was not as big as I had thought, and -for a moment wild ideas of fighting him, if that -was what he wanted, came into my head. I -wished to stay with mother, and even though he was -my father, I did not see why I should go away alone -and leave her. But, tall though I was getting, I -had not anything like my father’s weight, and, -however bitterly I might wish to rebel, rebellion -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span>was useless. Besides, my mother, though she was -kind to me, would undoubtedly have taken my -father’s part, as it was right that she should do.</p> - -<p>So I moved slowly away as my father came up, -and as I did so even the little cubs growled at -me, siding, of course, with their father against the -stranger whom they had never seen. Father did -not try to attack me, but walked up to mother and -began licking her, to show that she belonged to -him. I disliked going away, and thought that -perhaps he would relent; but when I sat down, as -if I was intending to stay, he growled and told me -that I was not wanted.</p> - -<p>I ought by this time to have grown accustomed -to being alone, and to have been incapable of -letting myself be made miserable by a snub, even -from my father. But I was not; I was wretched. -I do not think that even on the first night after -Kahwa was caught, or on that morning when I -saw her dead, that I felt as completely forlorn as -I did that day when I turned away from my -mother, and went down the mountain-side back -to my own place alone. The squirrels chattered -at me, and the woodpecker rat-tat-tat-ed, and -the woodchucks scurried away, and I hated -them all. What company were they to me? I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> -was lonely, and I craved the companionship of my -own kind.</p> - -<p>But it was to be a long time before I found it. -I was now a solitary bear, with my own life to live -and my own way to make in the world, with no -one to look to for guidance and no one to help me -if I needed help; but many regarded me as an -enemy, and would have rejoiced if I were killed.</p> - -<p>In those first days I thought of the surly solitary -bear who had taken our home while we were away, -and whom I had vowed some day to punish; and I -began to understand in some measure why he was -so bad-tempered. If we had met then, I almost -believe I would have tried to make friends -with him.</p> - -<p>I have said that many animals would have rejoiced -had I been killed. This is not because bears -are the enemies of other wild things, for we really -kill very little except beetles and other insects, -frogs and lizards, and little things like mice and -chipmunks. We are not as the wolves, the -coyotes, the pumas, or the weasels, which live on -the lives of other animals, and which every other -thing in the woods regards as its sworn foe. Still, -smaller animals are mostly afraid of us, and the -carcase of a dead bear means a feast for a number<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> -of hungry things. If a bear cannot defend his -own life, he will have no friends to do it for him; -and while, as I have said before, a full-grown bear -in the mountains has no need to fear any living -thing, man always excepted, in stand-up fight, it -is none the less necessary to be always on one’s -guard.</p> - -<p>In my case fear had nothing to do with my -hatred of loneliness. Even the thought of man -himself gave me no uneasiness. I was sure that -no human beings were as yet within many miles -of my home, and I knew that I should always -have abundant warning of their coming. Moreover, -I already knew man. He was not to me the thing -of terror and mystery that he had been a year -ago, or that he still was to most of the forest folk. -I had cause enough, it is true, to know how -dangerous and how savagely cruel he was, and for -that I hated him. But I had also seen enough of -him to have a contempt for his blindness and his -lack of the sense of scent. Had I not again and -again, when in the town, dodged round the corner -of a building, and waited while he passed a few -yards away, or stood immovable in the dark shadow -of a building, and looked straight at him while -he went by utterly unconscious that I was near?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> -Nothing could live in the forest for a week with no -more eyesight, scent, or hearing than a man -possesses, and without his thunder-stick he would -be as helpless as a lame deer. All this I understood, -and was not afraid that, if our paths should -cross again, I should not be well able to take care -of myself.</p> - -<p>But while there was no fear added to my loneliness, -the loneliness itself was bad enough. Having none -to provide for except myself, I had no difficulty in -finding food. For the first few weeks, I think, I did -nothing but wander aimlessly about and sleep, still -using my winter den for that purpose. As the summer -came on, however, I began to rove, roaming usually -along the streams, and sleeping there in the cool -herbage by the water’s edge during the heat of the -day. My chief pleasure, I think, was in fishing, -and I was glad my mother had shown me how to -do it. No bear, when hungry, could afford to fish -for his food, for it takes too long; but I had all -my time to myself, and nearly every morning and -evening I used to get my trout for breakfast or for -supper. At the end of a long hot day, I know -nothing pleasanter than, after lying a while in the -cold running water, to stretch one’s self out along -the river’s edge, under the shadow of a bush, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> -wait, paw in water, till the trout comes gliding -within striking distance; and then the sudden -stroke, and afterwards the comfortable meal off -the cool juicy fish in the soft night air. I became -very skilful at fishing, and, from days and days of -practice, it was seldom indeed that I lost my fish if -once I struck.</p> - -<p>Time, too, I had for honey-hunting, but I was -never sure that it was worth the trouble and pain. -In nine cases out of ten the honey was too deeply -buried in a tree for me to be able to reach it, and -in trying I was certain to get well stung for my -pains. Once in a while, however, I came across a -comb that was easy to reach, and the chance of -one of those occasional finds made me spend, not -hours only, but whole days at a time, looking for -the bees’ nests.</p> - -<p>Along by the streams were many blueberry-patches, -though none so large as that which had -cost Kahwa her life; but during the season I could -always find berries enough. And so, fishing and -bee-hunting, eating berries and digging for roots, I -wandered on all through the summer. I had no -one place that I could think of as a home more -than any other. I preferred not to stay near -my father and mother, and so let myself wander,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> -heading for the most part westward, and further -into the mountains as the summer grew, and then -in the autumn turning south again. I must have -wandered over many hundred miles of mountain, -but when the returning chill in the air told me that -winter was not very far away, I worked round so -as to get back into somewhat the same neighbourhood -as I had been in last winter, not more, perhaps, -than ten miles away.</p> - -<p>On the whole, it was an uneventful year. Two -or three times I met a grizzly, and always got -out of the way as fast as I could. Once only I -found myself in the neighbourhood of man, and I -gave him a wide berth. Many times, of course—in -fact, nearly every day—I met other bears like -myself, and sometimes I made friends with them, -and stayed in their company for the better part of -a day, perhaps at a berry-patch or in the wide -shallows of a stream. But there was no place for -me—a strong, growing he-bear, getting on for two -years old—in any of the families that I came -across. Parents with young cubs did not want -me. Young bears in their second year were usually -in couples. The solitary bears that I met were -generally he-bears older than I, and, though we -were friendly on meeting, neither cared for the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> -other’s companionship. Again and again in these -meetings I was struck by the fact that I was unusually -big and strong for my age, the result, I -suppose, as I have already said, of the accident that -threw me on my own resources so young. I never -met young bears of my own age that did not seem -like cubs to me. Many times I came across bears -who were one and even two years older than -myself, but who had certainly no advantage of me -in height, and, I think, none in weight. But I had -no occasion to test my strength in earnest that -summer, and when winter came, and the mountain-peaks -in the neighbourhood showed white again -against the dull gray sky, I was still a solitary -animal, and acutely conscious of my loneliness.</p> - -<p>That year I made my den in a cave which I -found high up on a mountain-side, and which had -evidently been used by bears at some time or other, -though not for the last year or two. There I made -my nest with less trouble than the year before, -and at the first serious snowfall I shut myself up -for another long sleep.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> -</div> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span></p> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2> -<a name="chap_9" id="chap_9"></a> -<a href="#contents" class="chapref" title="Return to Table of Contents.">CHAPTER <abbr title="9">IX</abbr></a> <br /> - -<span class="stitle">I FIND A COMPANION</span></h2> - - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> next spring was late. We had a return of -cold weather long after winter ought to have been -over, and for a month or more after I moved out -it was no easy matter to find food enough. The -snow had been unusually deep, and had only half -melted when the cold returned, so that the remaining -half stayed on the ground a long while, and -sometimes it took me all my time, grubbing up -camas roots, turning over stones and logs, and -ripping the bark off fallen trees, to find enough to -eat to keep me even moderately satisfied. Besides -the mice and chipmunks which I caught, I was -forced by hunger to dig woodchucks out of their -holes, and eat the young ones, though hitherto I -had never eaten any animal so large.</p> - -<p>Somehow, in one way and another, I got along, -and when spring really came I felt that I was a -full-grown bear, and no longer a youngster who -had to make way for his elders when he met them<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span> -in the path. Nor was it long before I had an -opportunity of seeing that other bears also regarded -me no longer as a cub.</p> - -<p>I had found a bees’ nest about ten feet up in a -big tree, and of course climbed up to it; but it -was one of those cases of which I have spoken, -when the game was not worth the trouble. The -nest was in a cleft in the tree too narrow for me -to get my arm into, and I could smell the honey -a foot or so away from my nose without being -able to reach it—than which I know nothing more -aggravating. And while you are hanging on to -a tree with three paws, and trying to squeeze the -fourth into a hole, the bees have you most unpleasantly -at their mercy. I was horribly stung -about my face, both my eyes and my nose were -smarting abominably, and at last I could stand it -no longer, but slid down to the ground again.</p> - -<p>When I reached the ground, there was another -bear standing a few yards away looking at me. -He had a perfect right to look at me, and he was -doing me no sort of harm; but the stings of the -bees made me furious, and I think I was glad to -have anybody or anything to vent my wrath upon. -So as soon as I saw the other bear I charged him. -He was an older bear than I, and about my size;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> -and, as it was the first real fight that I had ever -had, he probably had more experience. But I -had the advantage of being thoroughly angry and -wanting to hurt someone, without caring whether -I was hurt myself or not, while he was feeling -entirely peaceable, and not in the least anxious to -hurt me or anybody else. The consequence was -that the impetuosity of my first rush was more -than he could stand. Of course he was up to -meet me, and I expect that under my coat my skin -on the left shoulder still carries the marks of his -claws where he caught me as we came together.</p> - -<p>But I was simply not to be denied, and, while -my first blow must have almost broken his -neck, in less than a minute I had him rolling over -and over and yelling for mercy. I really believe -that, if he had not managed to get to his feet, and -then taken to his heels as fast as he could, I would -have killed him. Meanwhile the bees were having -fun with us both.</p> - -<p>It was of no use, however angry I might be, to -stop to try and fight them; so as soon as the other -bear had escaped I made my own way as fast as I -could out of the reach of their stings, and down to -the stream to cool my smarting face. As I lay in the -water, I remember looking back with astonishment<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> -to the whole proceeding. Five minutes before I -had had no intention of fighting anybody, and had -had no reason whatever for fighting that particular -bear. Had I met him in the ordinary way, we -should have been friendly, and I am not at all sure -that, if I had had to make up my mind to it in cold -blood, I should have dared to stand up to him, -unless something very important depended on it. -Yet all of a sudden the thing had happened. I -had had my first serious fight with a bear older -than myself, and had beaten him. Moreover, I -had learned the enormous advantage of being the -aggressor in a fight, and of throwing yourself into -it with your whole soul. As it was, though I -was astonished at the entire affair and surprised -at myself, and although the bee-stings still hurt -horribly, I was pretty well satisfied and rather -proud.</p> - -<p>Perhaps it was as well that I had that fight -then, for the time was not far distant when I was -to go through the fight of my life. A bear may -have much fighting in the course of his existence, -or he may have comparatively little, depending -chiefly on his own disposition; but at least once -he is sure to have one fight on which almost the -whole course of his life depends. And that is when<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> -he fights for his wife. Of course he may be beaten, -and then he has to try again. Some bears never -succeed in winning a wife at all. Some may win -one and then have her taken from them, and have -to seek another; but I do not believe that any -bear chooses to live alone. Every one will once at -least make an effort to win a companion who will -be the mother of his children. The crisis came -with me that summer, though many bears, I -believe, prefer to run alone until a year, or even -two years, later.</p> - -<p>The summer had passed like the former one, -rather uneventfully after the episode of the bees. -I wandered abroad, roaming over a wide tract of -country, fishing, honey-hunting, and finding my -share of roots and beetles and berries, sheltering -during the heat of the day, and going wherever I -felt inclined in the cool of the night and morning. -I think I was disposed to be rather surly and -quarrelsome, and more than once took upon -myself to dispute the path with other bears; but -they always gave way to me, and I felt that I -pretty well had the mountains and the forests for -my own. But I was still lonely, and that summer -I felt it more than ever.</p> - -<p>The late spring had ruined a large part of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> -berry crop, and the consequence was that, wherever -there was a patch with any fruit on it, bears -were sure to find it out. There was one small -sheltered patch which I knew, where the fruit -had nearly all survived the frosts. I was there -one evening, when, not far from me, out of the -woods came another bear of about my size. I -was inclined to resent it at first, but then I saw -that it was a she-bear, and I liked her the moment -I obtained a good view of her. She saw me, and -sat up and looked at me amicably.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<a name="image_6" id="image_6"></a> -<img src="images/i141.jpg" width="500" height="500" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"> -<p class="caption">SHE SAW ME, AND SAT UP -AND LOOKED AT ME AMICABLY.</p> -</div> -<p class="centerref">[<a href="images/i141-l.jpg">Enlarge</a>]</p> -</div> - -<p>I had never tried to make love before, but -I knew what was the right thing to do; -so I approached her slowly, walking sideways, -rubbing my nose on the ground, and mumbling -into the grass to tell her how much I admired -her. She responded in the correct way, by rolling -on the ground. So I continued to approach her, -and I cannot have been more than five or six yards -away, when out of the bushes behind her, to my -astonishment, came another he-bear. He growled -at me, and began to sniff around at the bushes, to -show that he was entirely ready to fight if I wanted -to. And of course I wanted to. I probably -should have wanted to in any circumstances, -but when the she-bear showed that she liked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span> -me better than him, by growling at him, I would -not have gone away, without fighting for her, for -all the berries and honey in the world. One of -the most momentous crises in my life had come, -and, as all such things do, had come quite unexpectedly.</p> - -<p>He was as much in earnest as I, and for a -minute we sidled round growling over our shoulders, -and each measuring the other. There was little -to choose between us, for, if I was a shade the -taller, he was a year older than I, and undoubtedly -the heavier and thicker. In fighting all other -animals except those of his kind, a bear’s natural -weapons are his paws, with one blow of which he -can crush a small animal, and either stun or break -the neck of a larger one. But he cannot do -any one of these three things to another bear as -big as himself, and only if one bear is markedly -bigger than the other can he hope to reach his -head, so as either to tear his face or give him -such a blow as will daze him and render him -incapable of going on fighting. A very much -larger bear can beat down the smaller one’s arms, -and rain such a shower of blows upon him as will -convince him at once that he is overmatched, and -make him turn tail and run. When two are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> -evenly matched, however, the first interchange -of blows with the paws is not likely to have much -effect either way, and the fight will have to be -settled by closing, by the use of teeth and main -strength. But, as I had learned in my fight that day -when I had been stung by the bees, the moral effect -of the first rush may be great, and it was in that -that my slight advantage in height and reach was -likely to be useful, whereas if we came to close -quarters slowly the thicker and stockier animal -would have the advantage. So I determined to -force the fighting with all the fury that I could; -and I did.</p> - -<p>It was he who gave the first blow. As we -sidled up close to one another, he let out at me -wickedly with his left paw, a blow which, if it -had caught me, would undoubtedly have torn off -one of my ears. Most bears would have replied -to that with a similar swinging blow when they -got an opening, and the interchange of single -blows at arms’ length would have gone on indefinitely -until one or the other lost his temper -and closed. I did not wait for that. The instant -the first blow whistled past my head I threw -myself on my hind-quarters and launched myself -bodily at him, hitting as hard as I could and as fast,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span> -first with one paw and then with the other, without -giving him time to recover his wits or get in -a blow himself. I felt him giving way as the -other bear had done, and when we closed he was -on his back on the ground, and I was on the top -of him.</p> - -<p>The fight, however, had only begun. I had -gained a certain moral effect by the ferocity of -my attack, but a bear, when he is fighting in -earnest, is not beaten by a single rush, nor, indeed, -until he is absolutely unable to fight longer. -Altogether we must have fought for over an hour. -Two or three times we were compelled to stop and -draw apart, because neither of us had strength left -to use either claws or jaw. And each time when -we closed again I followed the same tactics, rushing -in and beating him down and doing my best to -cow him before we gripped; and each time, I think, -it had some effect—at least to the extent that it -gave me a feeling of confidence, as if I was fighting -a winning fight.</p> - -<p>The deadliest grip that one bear can get on -another is with his jaws across the other’s muzzle, -when he can crush the whole face in. Once he -very nearly got me so, and this scar on the side of -my nose is the mark of his tooth; but he just -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span>failed to close his jaws in time. And, as it proved -then, it is a dangerous game to play, for it leaves -you exposed if you miss your grip, and in this case -it gave me the opportunity that I wanted, to get -my teeth into his right paw just above the wrist. -My teeth sank through the flesh and tendons -and closed upon the bone. In time, if I could hold -my grip, I would crush it. His only hope lay in -being able to compel me to let go, by getting his -teeth in behind my ear; and this we both knew, -and it was my business with my right paw to keep -his muzzle away.</p> - -<p>A moment like that is terrible—and splendid. -I have never found myself in his position, but I -can imagine what it must be. We swayed and -fell together, and rolled over and over—now he -uppermost, and now I; but never for a second -did I relax my hold. Whatever position we were -in, my teeth were slowly grinding into the bone -of his arm, and again and again I felt his teeth -grating and slipping on my skull as I clawed and -pushed blindly at his face to keep him away. -More and more desperate he grew, and still I hung -on; and while I clung to him in dead silence he -was growling and snarling frantically, and I could -hear his tone getting higher and higher till, just<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> -as I felt the bone giving between my teeth, the -growling broke and changed to a whine, and I -knew that I had won.</p> - -<p>One more wrench with my teeth, and I felt his -arm limp and useless in my mouth. Then I let -go, and as he cowered back on three legs I reared -up and fell upon him again, hitting blow after -blow with my paws, buffeting, biting, beating, -driving him before me. Even now he had fight -left in him; but with all his pluck he was helpless -with his crippled limb, and slowly I bore him back -out of the open patch where we had been fighting -into the woods, and yard by yard up the hill, until -at last it was useless for him to pretend to fight -any longer, and he turned and, as best he could, -limping on three legs, ran.</p> - -<p>During the whole of the fight the she-bear had -not said a word, but sat on the ground watching -and awaiting the result. While the battle was -going on I had no time to look at her; but in the -intervals when we were taking breath, whenever -I turned in her direction, she avoided my eye and -pretended not to know that I was there or that -anything that interested her was passing. She -looked at the sky and the trees, and washed herself, -or did whatever would best show her indifference.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span> -All of which only told me that she was -not indifferent at all.</p> - -<p>Now, when I came back to her, she still pretended -not to see me until I was close up to her, -and when I held out my nose to hers she growled -as if a stranger had no right to behave in that -way. But I knew she did not mean it; and I was -very tired and sore, with blood running from me -in a dozen places. So I walked a few yards away -from her and lay down. In a minute she came -over to me and rubbed her nose against mine, and -told me how sorry she was for having snubbed me, -and then began to lick my wounds.</p> - -<p>She told me how splendidly I had fought; and, -mauled though I was, I was very proud and happy. -She in turn told me all about herself. She was -older than I by two years, and the bear that I had -beaten was a year older than myself. She had -known him for some three weeks only, having -met him a few days after her husband and her -two children, the first she had ever had, had been -killed by a thunder-stick. That was a long way off -over there—pointing eastward—and she had been -moving away from the neighbourhood of man ever -since.</p> - -<p>That gave us a new bond of sympathy; and I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> -told her about Kahwa and myself, and how lonely -I had been for the last two summers. Now, with -her help, I proposed not to be lonely any more. -She saw that I was well able to take care of myself -and of her, even though I was only three years old. -If I filled out in proportion to my height and the -size of my bones, there would not be a bear in the -forest that would be able to stand up to me by -the end of next summer. She told me that she -had liked me the moment we met, and had hoped -every minute of the fight that I would win, -though, of course, it would not have been proper -for her to show it. Altogether I was happier than -I had been since the old days before Kahwa was -caught.</p> - -<p>As soon as I was fairly rested, we got up and -made our way in the bright moonlight down to -the river, so that I could wash the blood off myself -and get the water into my wounds. We stayed -there for a while, and then returned to the patch -and made a supper off the berries, and later -wandered into the woods side by side. She was -very kind to me, and every caress and every loving -thing she did or said was a delight. It was all so -wonderfully new. And when at last we lay down -under the stars, so that I could sleep after the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> -strain that I had been through, and I knew that -she was by me, and that when I woke up I -should not be lonely any more, it all seemed -almost too good to be true. It was as if I had -suddenly come into a new world and I was a new -bear.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> -</div> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span></p> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2> -<a name="chap_10" id="chap_10"></a> -<a href="#contents" class="chapref" title="Return to Table of Contents.">CHAPTER <abbr title="10">X</abbr></a> <br /> - -<span class="stitle">A VISIT TO THE OLD HOME</span></h2> - - -<p><span class="smcap">When</span> I awoke I found that it was indeed all true, -but I was so frightfully stiff that it was not easy to -be very happy all at once. I slept straight on all -through the morning until late in the afternoon. -My new companion had been awake, and had -wandered round a little in the early morning, but -without awaking me. When I awoke in the -afternoon she was asleep by my side. I tried to -stand up, but every bone in my body hurt, every -muscle ached, and every joint was so stiff that -I could almost hear it creak. The fuss that I made -in trying to get on to my feet disturbed her, and -she helped me up. Somehow I managed to stagger -along, and we went off for a short ramble in search -of food. I could hardly dig at all, but she shared -with me the roots she found, and with a few -berries we made a sort of a meal; and then I was -so tired that we lay down again, and I slept right -on till daybreak the following morning.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span></p> - -<p>After that I felt myself again. It was days -before all the stiffness wore off, and weeks before -my wounds were entirely healed; while, as you -can see, I carry some of the scars to this day.</p> - -<p>For some days the bear that I had beaten hung -about, in the hope of tempting Wooffa (that was -what I called my wife, it being my mother’s name) -to go back to him. But he was a pitiable object, -limping about with his broken leg, and I never -even offered to fight him again. There was no -need for it. Wooffa did not wish to have anything -to say to him, and she ignored him for the most -part unless he came too near, when she growled at -him in a way that was not to be misunderstood. -I really felt sorry for him, remembering my own -loneliness, and realizing that it was probably worse -to lose her and have to go off alone, while she -belonged to somebody else, than never to have -known her at all. After a while he recognised -that it was hopeless, and we saw him no more. -We ourselves, indeed, did not stay in the same -place, but as long as the summer lasted we wandered -where we pleased.</p> - -<p>We suited each other admirably, Wooffa and I. -We had much the same tastes, with equal cause to -hate man and to wish to keep away from his neighbourhood,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> -and we were very nearly of the same size -and strength. I never knew a bear that had a -keener scent, and she was a marvel at finding -honey. In many ways it is a great advantage for -two bears to be together, for they have two noses -and two sets of eyes and ears, and two can turn -over a log or a stone that is too heavy for one. -Altogether, I now lived better and was much -more free from care than I had been; while above -all was the great fact of companionship—the mere -not being alone. In small ways she used to tyrannize -over me, just as mother did over father; but I -liked it, and neither of us ever found any tit-bit -which was large enough to share without being -willing to go halves with the other.</p> - -<p>The rest of that summer we spent together, and -all the next, and I think she was as contented as I. -What I had hoped came true, for I increased in -weight so much that I do not think there was -a bear that we saw that could have held his own -against me in fair fight. Certainly there was no -pair that could have stood up against Wooffa and -me together; for though not quite so high at the -shoulder as I, she was splendidly built and magnificently -strong. On her chest she had a white -spot or streak, of which she was very proud, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span> -which she kept always beautifully white and well -combed.</p> - -<p>Early in the summer of the year after I had met -her, I took her to visit my childhood home. It -needed a week’s steady travelling to get there, and -when we arrived in the neighbourhood we found -the whole place so changed that I could hardly find -my way. It was more than three years since I -had seen it, and man had now taken possession -of the whole country. For the last day or two -of our journey we had to go very carefully, for -men’s houses were scattered along the banks of -every stream, and wherever two streams of any -size came together there had grown up a small -town. In the burnt district many of the blackened -trees were still standing, but the ground was -carpeted with brush again, and young trees were -shooting up in every direction. The beaver-dams -were most of them broken, and those which -remained were deserted. On all sides were the -marks of man’s handiwork.</p> - -<p>At last we came to the beaver-dam, the pool -of which had saved my life in the fire. There -were houses close beside the pool, and a large -clearing which had been made in the forest was -now a grass-field, and in that field for the first time<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span> -I saw cows. We had already passed several strings -of mules and ponies on the mountain-paths which -the men had made, each animal carrying a huge -bundle lashed on its back; and now we met horses -dragging carts along the wide road which had been -made along the border of the stream. Of course, -we did not venture near the road during the day, -but stayed hidden well up on the mountain-side, -where we could hear the noise of people passing, -and in the evening we made our way down.</p> - -<p>Just as we arrived at the road, going very -cautiously, a pair of horses dragging a waggon -came along. Curious to see it, we stayed close by, -and peered out from behind the trees; but as they -came abreast of us a gust of wind blew the scent -of us to the horses, and they took fright and -seemed to go mad in one instant. Plunging and -rearing, they tried to turn round, backing the -waggon off the road into a tree. Then, putting -their heads down, they started blindly thundering -up the road, with the waggon swaying and rocking -behind them. The man shouted and pulled and -thrashed them with his whip, but the horses were -too mad with terror to listen to him. On they -dashed until there came a turn in the road, when -with a crash the waggon collided with a tree.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span> -Precisely what happened we could not see. Bits -of the waggon were strewn about the road, while -the horses plunged on with what was left of it -dangling behind them. But in what was left there -was no man.</p> - -<p>We made our way along the edge of the road to -where the crash had taken place, and there among -the broken wheels and splinters of the waggon we -found the man lying, half on the road and half -in the forest, dead. It was some time before we -could make up our minds to approach him, but -at last I touched him with my nose, and then we -turned him over with our paws. We were still -inspecting him, when we heard the sound of other -men and horses approaching, and before they came -in sight we slipped off into the wood. We saw the -new horses shy just as the former ones had done, -but whether at the smell of ourselves or of the -dead man in the road we did not know. The men -managed to quiet them, however, and got out of the -waggon, and after standing over the dead man for a -while they lifted him and took him away with them.</p> - -<p>We loitered about until it was dark, and then -tried to make our way on to where my old -home had been. It could not be half a mile -away, but that half-mile was beset with houses,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> -and as we drew nearer the houses became thicker, -until I saw that it would be useless to go on, for -where the cedar-trees used to grow, where the hill-slope -was that I had tumbled down, where Blacky -the squirrel and Rat-tat used to live, was now the -middle of a town. At the first sign of dawn we -made our way back to the beaver-pool, and, crossing -the dam again, turned our backs for ever on the -neighbourhood where I had spent my childhood. -It was no longer bears’ country.</p> - -<p>Now for the first time I understood what the -coming of man meant to the people of the forest -and the mountains. I had, indeed, seen a man-town -before, and the men coming and going up -and down the streams, but, somehow, it had not -occurred to me that where they came they never -went away again. These men here, however, with -their houses, their roads and cows and horses—they -would never go away. They were wiping -out the forest: the animals that lived in it had -vanished: the very face of the mountains was -changed, so that I could not tell the spots that -I knew best; and I was sure that we could never -drive them out again. I was sorry that I had come -to see the old home, and we were a gloomy couple -as we started on our return journey southwards.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span></p> - -<p>For a long time yet we would have to go -cautiously, for man was all around us. Along -the streams he had been digging, digging, digging, -endlessly digging, but what he gained by it we -could not comprehend; for we often watched him -at work, and he seemed to take nothing out of the -ground, nor to eat anything as he dug. When he -was not digging, he was chopping trees, either to -build more houses, to make dams across the streams, -or to break the wood up into pieces to burn. So -wherever he came the forest disappeared, and the -rivers were disfigured with holes and ditches and -piles of gravel on which no green thing grew, and -nothing lived that was good to eat.</p> - -<p>In travelling we kept away from the streams as -much as possible, moving along the hillsides, and -only coming down to the water when we wished -to cross. We had been travelling in this way for -some two or three nights, when one morning very -early we came down to a stream at a point close by -a clump of buildings. The wind was blowing from -them to us, and suddenly Wooffa threw herself up -on her haunches and gasped one word—‘Pig!’</p> - -<p>I had heard of pig before, and Wooffa had eaten -it to her cost; and in spite of the cost she agreed -with everyone in saying that young pig is the very<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> -best thing there is to eat in all the world. I had -often wondered whether some of the best scraps -that I had picked up about the houses in the town -in the old days might not be pig, and now I know -that they were. But they were cooked and salted -pig, and not the fresh young pig newly killed, -which is the joy of joys to a bear. This it was that -Wooffa now smelled, and as the scent came to my -nostrils I knew that it was something new to me -and something very good.</p> - -<p>The smell came from a sort of pen at one side -of the biggest building, not unlike that in which -Kahwa had been shut up, only the walls were not -so high. They were too high to look over, however, -and there was no way of climbing up until -Wooffa helped me, and by standing on her back I -was able to see over. It was a small square pen, -the floor deep in mud, and at one end was a covered -place something like the boxes that men keep dogs -in; and in the door of this covered place I could see, -asleep, a large black-and-white sow and five little -pigs.</p> - -<p>If I got inside, I saw that I could climb on the -roof of the covered part and get out again; so I -did not hesitate, but with one scramble I was over -and down in the middle of the family. Wouff!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span> -what a noise they made! But with one smack -of my paw I had killed the nearest little one, and -grabbed it in my mouth, and in a minute I was up -on the covered roof and out with Wooffa on the -grass outside.</p> - -<p>We did not stop to eat the pig there, for the -others were still squealing as if they were all being -killed, and we were afraid that they would wake -the men; so we made off as fast as we could into -the wood, taking the pig with us. It was as well -that we did, for we had not gone far before we -heard a door bang and a dog barking, and then -the voices of men shouting to each other. We -kept on for a mile or so before we stopped, down -by the side of a little stream. Then we divided -the pig fairly, and nothing that I had heard about -his goodness had been exaggerated. No; there -are many good things in the world—honey and -berries and sugar and cooked things; but pig is -above all others.</p> - -<p>So good was he that, if I had been by myself, I -think I should have stayed there, and gone down -again next night for another, and probably been -shot for my pains. But, as Wooffa had told me -long ago, it was in doing just that very thing that -her husband and two children had lost their lives.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span> -They had found some pigs kept by men just as we -had, and had taken three the first night. The next -night they went and got two more; the third -night the men were waiting for them, and only -Wooffa escaped. The smell of the pig when it came -to her again after two years had for the moment -overcome all her fears; but she told me that she -had been terrified all the time that I was in the -sty, and nothing on earth would tempt her to risk -a second visit.</p> - -<p>I have said before that greediness is the undoing -of nearly all wild animals, and, however much I -longed for another taste of pig, I knew that she -was right. It was better to go without pig and -keep alive. So we set our faces resolutely in the -other direction, and kept on our course, vowing -that nothing should tempt us to linger in the -proximity of man. And very glad we both were -when we found ourselves at last once more in a -region where as yet man had not been seen, where -we could wander abroad as we pleased by night -or day, where the good forest smells were still -untainted, and where we could lie in the water of -the streams at sunset or fish as long as we pleased -without thought of an enemy.</p> - -<p>It was a beautiful autumn that year, and I think,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span> -as I look back to it, I was as happy then as ever -in my life. There had been a splendid crop of -berries, in contrast to the year before, and now, -with the long clear autumn, all signs pointed to a -hard winter. So we made our preparations for the -cold season early, hollowing out our dens carefully -side by side under the roots of two huge trees, -where they were well sheltered from the wind, and -lining them with sticks and leaves. Wooffa in -particular spent a long time over hers; and afterwards -I understood why.</p> - -<p>It was still bright autumn weather, when the -birds flying southwards told us that already snow -had fallen to the north, and it was bitterly cold. -Everyone was talking of the severe winter that -was ahead of us, and the wolves and the coyotes -had gone to the plains. We were glad we had -made our preparations in good time, for, when the -winter came, it came, in spite of all that had been -said about it, unexpectedly. There was no warning -of snow upon the higher peaks, but one night the -north wind blew steadily the long night through, -and in the morning the winter was on us, settling -down on all the country, peak and valley, together.</p> - -<p>That day we retired into our dens for good. -When I came out in the spring, Wooffa had not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> -appeared, so I began to scratch away the stuff -from the opening of her den, and as I did so I -heard new noises inside; and all at once it dawned -upon me that I was a father. Wooffa had brought -me a little Kahwa and a little Wahka for my -own.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> -</div> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span></p> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2> -<a name="chap_11" id="chap_11"></a> -<a href="#contents" class="chapref" title="Return to Table of Contents.">CHAPTER <abbr title="11">XI</abbr></a> <br /> - -<span class="stitle">THE TROUBLES OF A FATHER</span></h2> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Every</span> young cub, I imagine, gets into about the -same amount of trouble and causes about the -same worry and anxiety to his parents. I know -that little Wahka took the earliest possible -opportunity of getting himself stuck full of -porcupine quills, and I do not suppose he made -any more fuss when his mother pulled them out -than I had done under similar circumstances five -summers before. He nearly drowned himself by -tumbling into the swiftest part of the stream that -he could find, and when I laughed at him, shivering -and whining, while his mother alternately -licked and cuffed him on the head, I could not -help thinking of my own misery when I went -downhill into the snow.</p> - -<p>As I looked at him, so preposterously small, -and fluffy, and brown, it was, as I said at the -beginning, hard to believe that I was ever quite<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> -like that. But I recognised myself in things that -he did fifty times a day.</p> - -<p>Kahwa, too, was exactly like the other little -Kahwa, her aunt who was dead. Wahka would -be sitting looking into the air at nothing, as cubs -do, when she would steal up behind him and -make a sudden grab at his hind-foot. I could -remember just how it felt when her teeth caught -hold. And he would roll over on his side, squealing, -and smack her head until she let go. In a -few minutes they were perfectly good friends again -hunting squirrels up the trees, and standing down -below with open mouths, waiting for them to drop -in. I showed them how to play at pulling each -other down the hill, and often of an afternoon -I would sit with my own back against the tree, -and invite them to pull me down. Then it was -just as it used to be. Wahka came at me on -one side, slowly and doggedly, almost in silence, -but intensely in earnest, while on the other side -Kahwa rushed on me like a little whirlwind, -yapping and snarling, and scuffling all over me -with her mouth wide open to grab anything that -was within reach—the same ferocious, reckless -little spitfire as I had known years ago. They -were good children, I think. At all events,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span> -Wooffa and I were very proud of them, and she -used to spend an astonishing amount of time licking -them, and combing them, and smacking their little -woolly heads.</p> - -<p>Then we began to take them out and teach them -how to find food, and what food to eat; that the -easiest way to get at a lily bulb is not to scrabble -at it with both paws straight down, but to scoop -it out with one good scrape from the side; how -to wipe off the top of an ant-hill at one smooth -stroke; how to distinguish the wild-onion by its -smell; and what the young shoots of the white -camas look like. They soon learned not to pass -any fair-sized stone without turning it over to -look for the insects beneath, and also that it is -useless to go on turning the same stone over and -over again to keep looking at the ‘other side.’ -Every fallen log had to be carefully inspected, -the bark ripped off where it was rotten to get at -the beetles and grubs and wood-lice underneath, -and, if it were not too heavy, the log itself should -be rolled over. We taught them that, in approaching -a log or large stone, one should always sniff well -first to see if there is a mouse or chipmunk underneath, -and, if there be fresh scent, turn it over -with one paw while holding the other ready to strike.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span></p> - -<p>Mice bothered them dreadfully at first, dodging -and zigzagging round their hind-legs, and keeping -them hopping in the air, while they grabbed wildly -at the little thing that was never where it ought -to be when the paw came down to squash it. I -shall never forget the first time that Wahka found -a chipmunk by himself. He lifted a stone very -cautiously, with his nose much too close to it, -apparently expecting the chipmunk to run into -his mouth, which it did not do; but as soon as -the stone was lifted an inch it was out and on to -Wahka’s nose, and over his head, down the middle -of his back, and off into the wood. Wahka really -never saw it at all, and was spinning round and -round trying to get at the middle of his own back -after the chipmunk was a hundred yards away.</p> - -<p>We took the cubs down to the stream and showed -them how to root along the edges among the grass -and weeds for frogs and snails, and water-beetles -and things, and when the trout came upstream -we caught some for them, and showed them how -to do it; but fishing is a thing that needs too -much patience to commend itself to cubs.</p> - -<p>Wahka did not have any adventure with a -puma, but he had one experience which might -have been even more serious. He had wandered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span> -away from his mother and myself, just as he had -been told hundreds of times not to do, when -suddenly there was the noise of a scuffle from -his direction, and he was screaming with all his -might. I was there in a moment, with his mother -close behind me, and saw two huge gray wolves -which had already rolled him over, and in another -instant would have done for him. We charged -them, but they were gone before we reached the -spot; and beyond a bad shaking and one scar on -his shoulder Wahka was none the worse. He -was a thoroughly frightened cub, however, and -it would have taken a great deal of persuasion to -make him leave his mother’s side for the rest of -that day. Indeed, it was necessary to be careful -for more than that day, because the wolves hung -around us, hoping still to catch either him or -Kahwa alone where they could make away with -them.</p> - -<p>I dislike wolves immensely. In spite of their -size and the strength of their jaws, they are -cowardly animals, and one wolf will never attack -even a much smaller beast than himself alone, if -he can get another to help him. Bears are not -like that. We want to have our fighting to ourselves. -We would much rather have any other<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span> -bear that is near stand and look on instead of -coming to help us—unless, of course, it is a case of -husband and wife, and one or other is overmatched. -What we do, we do in the open, and -prefer that people should understand our intentions -clearly, and take us just as we are. A wolf -is exactly the opposite. He never does anything -openly that he can do in secret. He likes to keep -out of sight, and hunt by stealth, owing what he -gets to his cunning and to superior numbers, -rather than to his own individual fighting spirit.</p> - -<p>We recognise that wolves know many things -that we do not; though some of them are things -that we would not want to know. And they think -us fools—but they keep out of our way. There -have indeed, I believe, been cases where a number -of wolves together have succeeded in killing a bear—not -in fair fight, but by dogging and following -him for days, preventing his either eating or -sleeping, until from sheer exhaustion he has been -unable to resist them when they have attacked -him in force and pulled him down. This, however, -could not happen in the mountains. The -wolves are only there in the summer, and then -they run in couples, or alone, or at most in families -of two old ones and the cubs together. In the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> -autumn they go down to the foot-hills and the -plains, and then it is only in hard weather that -they collect in packs. At that time the bears are -usually in their winter dens, and all the wolves -that were ever born could never get a bear out -of his den, where they can reach him only in -front.</p> - -<p>In this case, the wolves which had attacked -Wahka seldom showed themselves, but that they -were constantly near us, and watching us, we -knew. With all their cunning, they could not -help getting between us and the wind once in a -while, and sometimes, when they were a little -distance away, we could hear them quarrelling -between themselves over some small animal they -had killed, or some scrap of food that they had -found in the forest. It is not pleasant being -shadowed, whether it is your child or yourself -that is being hunted, and we had to be extremely -cautious not to let either Kahwa or Wahka out of -our sight. Nor was it always easy, in spite of his -recent fright, to keep the latter under restraint, -for he was an independent, self-reliant youngster, -of inexhaustible inquisitiveness.</p> - -<p>One day, when we knew the wolves were following -us, and we were keeping Wahka well in hand,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span> -we met a family of elk,<a name="Anchor-4" id="Anchor-4"></a><a href="#Footnote-4" class="fnanchor" title="Go to footnote 4.">[4]</a> two parents and quite a -young fawn, and Wahka must needs go and try -to find out all about the fawn. He meant no -harm whatever, and had no idea that there was -any danger. He only thought the fawn would -be a nice thing to play with; and before we could -stop him he had trotted straight up to it. Elk -are jealous animals, and, like all deer, in spite of -their timidity, will fight to protect their young; -and with his tremendous antlers and great strength -a big stag is a person to be let alone.</p> - -<p>Wahka knew nothing about all this, and went -straight towards the fawn in the friendliest and -most confiding way. Fortunately, the stag was -some yards away, and we were able to put Wahka -on his guard in time. But it was a narrow escape, -and I do not think the stag’s antler missed his tail -by half an inch. Wooffa jumped in the stag’s way, -and for a minute it looked as if there would be -a fight. Of course it would have ended in our -killing the stag—and probably also his wife and -the fawn as well—but one or the other of us would -have been likely to have had the end of an antler -through the ribs before the fight was over.</p> - -<p>The stag showed not the slightest intention of -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span>running away, though he must have known -perfectly well that the odds were hopelessly -against him; but he stood facing Wooffa, with -his head down, snorting and pawing the ground, -and telling her to come on. She was so angry at -the attack on Wahka that for a moment she was -inclined to do it, but I spoke to her, and she cooled -down, and we moved away, leaving the stag, still -pawing the ground and shaking his head, in possession -of the field.</p> - -<p>I have already said that we had had warning -that the wolves were hanging about us that day, -and we had not gone far after the meeting with -the elk before we heard that some sort of trouble -was in progress behind. It was not difficult to guess -what it was; the snarling and yapping of the -wolves, the breaking of branches, and the clashing -of the elk’s antlers, told the story. The wolves, -following us, had made up their minds that the -fawn would be easier prey and better eating than -a bear-cub; and the stag, we knew, was doing his -best to defend his young. We were very much -inclined to go down and help the stag; but we -stood and listened, and suddenly the noise stopped. -The silence that ensued was too much for our -curiosity, and back we went.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span></p> - -<p>As we came near we knew that the fight -could not be altogether over, for there was still -a sound of snarling and the angry stamping of a -stag, and the sight that at last met our eyes was -one that it did us good to see.</p> - -<p>There was a wide circular open space, in which -every living thing had been trampled down, and the -ground was all scored and furrowed with the mark -of hoof and antler; and in the middle stood the -stag, erect and defiant. Before him on the ground -lay the body of the he-wolf, covered with blood -and stamped almost beyond recognition. There -was blood—his own blood—on the stag’s shoulder, -and blood on his horns, which was not his own. -At the edge of the circle, lying down and panting, -lay the she-wolf, sulky and baffled, and evidently -with no mind to go on with the combat alone, -though the stag challenged her to come on.</p> - -<p>When he saw us, the stag perhaps thought that -we were new enemies come to take up the cause -of the remaining wolf, for he signalled to his wife, -who with the fawn was standing behind him, and -they began to move slowly away, the deer and -fawn going first, and the stag following, moving -backwards, and keeping his antlers always towards -the enemy, till they had passed out of the circle<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> -of cleared space into the trees. The she-wolf lay -there till they had passed, turning sulkily to snarl -at us once in a while, and then, as we stood still -and showed no sign of approaching or attacking -her, she got up and walked over to the dead body -of her husband, and began turning it over with -her nose. Next she commenced to lick him, and -then, taking the throat in her mouth, deliberately -began to bite into it! Growling and snarling, she -crouched over the body, and we left her to her -horrid meal.</p> - -<p>It was a relief to know that we at least would -be no more troubled by her or her husband.</p> - -<p>On the whole, life went very peaceably with -us, as it had done with my parents when Kahwa -and I were cubs in the days before man came, -and before the forest fire drove us into his arms. -This year we saw no sign of man. We had no -wish to do so, and took care not to go in any -direction where we thought we were likely to -meet him. Once in midsummer we saw the sky -to the north of us red for two or three nights with -flames in the distance, and I wondered for a while -whether history was going to repeat itself; but -the wind blew steadily from the south-west, and -the fire did not come within many miles of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span> -us. It must, I guessed, be somewhere in the -neighbourhood of the former fire, and, of course, -it is where man is that forest fires are frequent; -for man is the only animal that makes fires for -himself, and it is from his fires that the flames -spread to the woods. Sometimes, in very dry -seasons, the woods ignite of themselves, but that -is rare.</p> - -<p>Of course, as the summer grew, we moved -about and wandered abroad as in other years, -keeping in the neighbourhood of the streams, -sheltering during the heat of the day, and roaming -over the mountains in the sweet cool air of the -night and morning. We always kept together, -though, of course, the little ones clung to their -mother more than to me. I was a kind father -to them, I think, and I believe they liked and -admired me as much as young cubs ought to -like and admire their father; but, as is always -the case in families like ours, while occasionally -one of them, generally Kahwa, would wander away -from the others with me, usually Wooffa and the -youngsters kept close together while I moved -about alone, though within calling distance, in -case I should be needed. Sometimes the father -bear leaves the family altogether during the early<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span> -summer months, and either goes alone or joins -other he-bears that are solitary like himself; but -it is better for the family to stay together. -Besides, Wooffa and I suited each other admirably -as hunting companions, and I am not ashamed -to confess that I was fond of my children.</p> - -<p>I began to realize what an anxiety I must have -been to my own parents, for one or the other of the -cubs was always getting into trouble. They were -sitting one day watching Wooffa and myself -trying to turn over a big log. We had warned -them again and again not to stand below a log -downhill when we were moving it, but, of course, -Kahwa had paid no attention, and, as that was -the best place from which to watch the operation, -down she sat and contentedly awaited results. -After two or three efforts we felt the log begin -to move, and then, with one heave together, we -got it started, and it rolled straight down on -Kahwa. We had been too busy to notice where -she was till we heard her squeal. It might very -easily have killed her, and as it was her hind-leg -was firmly caught, with the whole weight of the -great log resting on it. Her mother boxed her -ears, while I managed to move the log enough -to set her free; but her foot was badly crushed,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span> -and she limped more or less for the rest of the -summer.</p> - -<p>On another occasion Wahka put his head into -a slit in a hollow tree to look for honey, and -could not get it out again. I have heard of bears -being killed in that way, when the hole is some -distance from the ground. The opening will -probably be narrower towards the bottom than -it is in the middle, and when a bear climbs up -to the hole, of course he puts his head in at the -widest part. Perhaps he slips, and his neck slides -down to where the slit is narrower. If he loses -his hold altogether, his whole weight comes on -his neck, and he breaks it; and even if that does -not happen, he may not be able to raise himself -and force his neck up to the wider opening again, -but has to hang there caught in a trap until he -dies.</p> - -<p>In this case Wahka’s feet were on the ground, -as the hole was quite low down, so there was -no danger of his being hanged; but he was so -frightened when he found that he could not pull -his head out again that it is quite possible that if -he had been alone he never would have succeeded -in getting loose. But his mother smacked him -until he lifted his head a little to where the hole<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span> -was an inch or so wider, and he was able to pull -out. But there was not much hair left on the -back of his ears by the time he was free.</p> - -<p>With all the trouble that they gave us, however, -and though I would not have let them know it for -worlds, and always made a point of noticing their -existence as little as possible, I was proud of my -children. Wahka, especially, gave promise of growing -into a splendid bear, while Kahwa was the very -image of her mother, even down to the little white -streak on her chest, though that did not appear -until she got her second year’s coat.</p> - -<p>They were good, straightforward, rollicking -youngsters who got all the pleasure out of life -that there was to be got, and enjoyed amazingly -everything that was good to eat. I shall never -forget the first time that we introduced them to -a berry-patch; and their first wild-raspberries -drove them nearly crazy. They would not go to -sleep all next day, though it was blazing hot, but -sat up while we slept, and whenever we woke -begged to be taken to look for more raspberries.</p> - -<p>When winter approached, we returned to the -place where we had hibernated the previous year. -Wooffa hollowed out her den to twice its former -size, so as to hold herself and both the cubs, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span> -I took my old quarters close by. Winter came -slowly, and after all our preparations were made -we were able to be about for a long time, during -which we did nothing but eat and sleep, and gather -strength and fatness for the long fast that was -coming.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span></p> -</div> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2> -<a name="chap_12" id="chap_12"></a> -<a href="#contents" class="chapref" title="Return to Table of Contents.">CHAPTER <abbr title="12">XII</abbr></a> <br /> - -<span class="stitle">WIPING OUT OLD SCORES</span></h2> - - -<p><span class="smcap">I have</span> said more than once that both Wooffa and -I had made up our minds that we never wished to -see man again. Looking back now, it is hard to -tell what made us depart from that determination; -indeed, I am not sure that there was any particular -moment at which we did definitely change our -minds and decide to go into his neighbourhood -once more. It was rather, I think, that we drifted -or wandered into it; but we certainly must have -known quite well what we were doing.</p> - -<p>When we started out in the following spring, -with Wahka and Kahwa in their second year, -we were a formidable family, without much cause -to be afraid of anything. We had no intention of -meddling with a grizzly if we happened to meet -one, and so long as we kept out of the way of -thunder-sticks there was nothing to hurt us. At -first we wandered northward with no definite -object, but as we got nearer a great curiosity came<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span> -over me to see the places which I had cause to -remember so well—the berry-patch and the house -where Kahwa had met her death; and also, I -believe, there was a vague hope of somehow meeting -again my old enemy and being able to square -accounts with him. He had threatened me again -and again, and I had always had to run from him. -Moreover, I held him responsible in my mind for -Kahwa’s death. If he had warned us, as decent -bears always do warn one another of any danger, -when we met him that night on our way to the -berry-patch, we should never have gone on, and -Kahwa would not have been captured. He was -coming away from the patch, and he must have -known that the men were there. But for mother’s -help, he would probably have killed father that -time when he tried to turn us out of our home. -Altogether, it was a long list of injuries that I had -against him, and I nursed the memory of them. -Perhaps I should meet him some day, and this time -I should not run away. Whenever I thought of -him, I used to get so angry that I would sit up on -my hind-legs and rub my nose in my chest and -growl; and Wooffa knew what was in my mind, -and growled in sympathy with me.</p> - -<p>So it came about that we travelled steadily<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span> -northward that summer, going back over much of -the same ground as father, mother, and I had -travelled when we came away after Kahwa’s death. -Sometimes we stayed in one locality for a week, -and then perhaps kept moving for a couple of days, -until we came to another place which tempted us -to loiter. Many times we saw man, but he never -saw us; for we were old and experienced, and had -no trouble in keeping out of his way. We found -that he did not always stay wherever he came. -Some houses, which I remembered passing three -years before, we found empty now and in ruins, -with the roofs falling in and bushes growing over -them. On several streams the beavers told us -that they had not seen a man for three years.</p> - -<p>We now learned, too, something of the reason -of man’s coming into the mountains. Sometimes -men’s dogs were lost in the woods, or they made -friends with coyotes and ran wild; and they told -the coyotes all they knew, and from them it -spread to the other animals. We met one of these -coyotes who had been friends with a dog, and -she told us what the dog had told her. It was -gold that the men were looking for, yellow, shining -stuff that was found in the gravel in the river-beds. -What men wanted with it she had no<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> -idea, as the dog himself did not know, and it -was not good to eat; but they set great store -by it, and were always looking for it everywhere, -following up the streams and scratching and -digging in the beds. If they found no gold in -a stream, they left it and went on to another. -Where they did find it they built houses and -stayed, and more men came, and more, until -towns grew up, with roads and horses and cows -as we had seen. In many ways what the coyote -told us agreed with what we had observed for -ourselves, so we presumed it was true; though -a coyote is too much like a wolf to be safe to -trust as a general rule.</p> - -<p>The next time that we came to a place where -the men had been working I thought I would -like to see some of the wonderful yellow stuff. -There were mounds of earth, and a long ditch -running slantwise away from the stream, and -nobody seemed to be about; so I scrambled -down into the ditch to look if any of the yellow -stuff was there. I was walking slowly along, -sniffing at the ground and the sides of the ditch, -when suddenly out of a sort of cave in one side, -and only a few yards from me, came a man! Wooffa -was just behind me, and the cubs behind her, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span> -he was evidently no less astonished than I, and -much more frightened. With one yell, he clambered -up the bank before I could make up my mind what -to do, and rushed to a small tree or sapling near by, -and then for the first time I learned that a man -could climb. He went up fast, too, until he got to -the first branches, when he stopped and looked -down and shouted at us—I suppose with some idea -of frightening us. But he had no thunder-stick, and -we were not in the least afraid; so we followed -him and looked at the tree. It was too thin for -us to climb—for a bear has to have something -solid to take hold of—or I would certainly have -gone up after him. As it was, we sat about for -a while looking at him, and waiting to see if he -would come down again; but he showed no intention -of doing that, and, as we did not know how -soon other men might come, we left him and -went on our way. But I did not go investigating -empty ditches in the daylight any more.</p> - -<p>One thing that completely puzzled us—as -completely as it terrified—was the thunder-stick. -What was it? How came man to be able to -kill at such distances with it? Above all, at what -distance could he kill? These questions puzzled -me many a time.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span></p> - -<p>It was soon after the adventure in the ditch -that for the first time we saw a boat. It was -coming down the stream with three men in it. -At first we thought the boat itself to be some -kind of an animal, and that the long oars waving -on either side were its legs or wings; but as it came -near we saw the men inside, and understood what it -was. So we stood and watched it. Fortunately, -we were out of sight ourselves, or I am afraid to -think what might have happened.</p> - -<p>Just opposite to us, on the very top of a pine-tree -on the other bank, an osprey which had been -fishing was sitting and waiting for the boat to go -by. As the boat came alongside of us, one of the -men, as he sat, raised a thunder-stick and pointed it -at the osprey, and the bird fell dead, even before, -as it seemed to us, the thunder-stick had spoken.</p> - -<p>Until then we had had no idea that the thunder-stick -could kill up in the air just as well as along -the ground; indeed, we had always agreed among -ourselves that, in case we should meet a man with -a thunder-stick and not have time to get away, -we would make for the nearest trees and climb -out of his reach. But what was the use of climbing -a tree, when we had just seen the osprey killed -on the top of one much higher than any that we<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span> -could climb? This incident made man seem more -awful than before.</p> - -<p>We were now within one night’s journey of the -places that I knew so well, and in a country -where men were on all sides. We kept crossing -well-worn trails over the mountains, on which -we sometimes saw men, and often when we were -lying up during the day we heard the noise of -mule-trains passing, the clangle-clangle-clang of -the bell round the neck of the leading mule, and -the hoarse voices of the men as they shouted at -them. Now, also, many of the houses were like -the one we had seen by the pool at the beaver-dam, -with clearings round them in which cows -lived and strange green things were growing.</p> - -<p>On the evening of the day on which the osprey -had been shot we came to one of these. I remembered -the house from three years ago, but -other buildings had been added to it, and round -it was a wide open space full of stuff that looked -like tall waving grass, which I now know was -wheat. There was a fence all round it, made -of posts with barbed wire stretched between, and -it was the first time that we had seen barbed -wire. Wahka, with his inquisitiveness, was the -first to find out what the barbed wire was. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span> -found out with his nose. When he had stopped -grumbling and rubbing his nose on the ground, -and could explain what was the matter, I tried -it, more cautiously than he had done, but still -sufficiently to make my nose bleed. We walked -nearly all round the field, and everywhere was -the horrid wire with its vicious spikes. But we -wanted to get into the field because we were sure -that the long, waving, yellowing wheat would be -good to eat. At last an idea occurred to Wooffa, -who took the top of one of the posts in her two -paws, and throwing, her whole weight back, -wrenched it clean out of the ground. Still the -wire held across, and I had to treat the next post -in the same way, and then the next. Both she -and I left tufts of our hair on the sharp points, -but the wire was now lying on the ground -where we could step over it; so we waded shoulder-high -into the wheat, and before we left the field -it was gray dawn, and we had each of us, I think, -eaten more than we had eaten before in all our -lives.</p> - -<p>We had trampled all over the field munching -and munching and munching at the wheat-ears, -which were full and sweet and just beginning -to ripen. Then we went down to the stream for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span> -a drink, and by the time the sun was up we -were three or four miles away in the mountains. -The children pleaded to be allowed to go there -again next night, but that was a point which we had -settled that evening when we had caught the pig. -Never again would we go back to a place where -we had taken anything of man’s which he could -miss, and where he might be prepared for a second -visit.</p> - -<p>So we went cautiously onward the next evening, -with the signs of man’s presence always around us. -Almost half the trees had been chopped down; -there were trails over the mountains in all directions, -and houses everywhere by the streams, from -which men’s voices came to us until late at night. -Silently, in single file, we threaded our way, I -leading, and Wooffa bringing up the rear. Bears -that had not our experience would certainly have -got into trouble; but I knew man, and was not -terrified at his smell or the sound of his voice, -and knew, too, that all that was needed was to keep -out of his sight and move quietly. Mile by mile -we pushed on without mishap, but there were so -many men, and things had changed so much that, -remembering the visit to my first home, I doubted -whether I should be able to recognise the berry-patch<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span> -when I came to it; when suddenly there it -was in front of me!</p> - -<p>The trees all round it had been cut down, so that -it came into view sooner than I had expected; but -when I looked upon it I saw that it had hardly -changed. The moon was high overhead, and the -patch glistened in the light, as of old. Across the -middle ran a hard brown roadway which was not -there in the old days; but otherwise all was the -same. I was standing almost on the spot from -which we had watched Kahwa being dragged away, -and the scene was nearly as distinct to me as it -had been at that time.</p> - -<p>We did not go down into the patch. The trees -around the edges had been so much thinned out -that it was less easy to approach in safety; so we -contented ourselves with wandering round and -eating such fruit as remained on the scattered -bushes which grew among the trees on the outskirts -of the wood. It was already after midnight, -and we only stayed for an hour or so, and then I -led the way back into the hills, intending to go -and see if our old lair, for which my father and -mother had had to fight in the former days, was -still untouched by man and would afford us safe -shelter for the coming day. As I did so, my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span> -thoughts went back to that morning, and I growled -to myself; for I was thinking of my old enemy, and -wondering whether I should ever have the opportunity -of avenging the old injuries. And, lo! even -as I was wondering the opportunity came.</p> - -<p>Wahka had strayed from the path, and suddenly -I heard him growling; and a moment later he came -running to my side, and out of the brush behind -him loomed the figure of another bear. I knew -him in a moment, and it was characteristic of him -that he should have attacked a cub like Wahka—not, -of course, knowing that it was the grandchild of the -pair whom he had tried to dispossess of their home -so long before. As he saw the rest of us, he -stopped in his pursuit of Wahka, and stood up on -his hind-legs growling angrily; and as I measured -him with my eyes I realized how much bigger -I must be than my father, for this bear, who had -towered over my father, was not an inch taller or -an ounce heavier than I. We were as nearly -matched as two bears could be; but I had no -doubt of my ability to punish him, for I had right -on my side, and had waited a long time for this -moment, and would fight as one fights who is filled -with rage at old wrongs that are left to him to -redress.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span></p> - -<p>And I did not leave him long in any doubt as -to my intentions, but walked straight towards -him, telling him as I did so that I had been looking -for him, and that the time had come for the settling -of old scores. He understood who I was, and was -just as ready to fight as I.</p> - -<p>I am not going to trouble you with an account -of another fight. I pursued my old plan, and he -had been so used to have other bears make way -for him, and fight only under compulsion, that I -think my first rush surprised him so much that it -gave me even more advantage than usual. Big -and strong as he was, the issue was never in doubt -from the start; for I felt within myself that my -fury made me irresistible, and from the moment -that I threw myself on him he never had time to -breathe or to take the initiative. He was beaten -in a few minutes, and he knew it; but he fought -desperately, and with a savageness that told me -that if he had won he would have been satisfied -with nothing less than my life. But he was not -to win; and whimpering, growling, bleeding, and -mad with shame and rage, I drove him back, and -it was only a question of how far I chose to -push my victory.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<a name="image_7" id="image_7"></a> -<img src="images/i192.jpg" width="500" height="500" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"> -<p class="caption">FROM THE MOMENT I THREW MYSELF ON HIM -HE NEVER HAD TIME TO BREATHE.</p> -</div> -<p class="centerref">[<a href="images/i192-l.jpg">Enlarge</a>]</p> -</div> - -<p>I let him live; but he went away torn and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span> -crippled, with his spirit broken and his fighting -days over. Never again would he stand to face a -full-grown bear. For years he had made everything -that he met move aside from his path in the -forest, and he had used his strength always for -evil, to domineer and to crush and to tyrannize. -Thenceforward he would know what it was to be -made to stand aside for others, to yield the right -of way, and to whine and fawn on his fellows; for -a bear once broken in body and spirit, as I broke -him, is broken for good.</p> - -<p>I was not hurt beyond a few flesh wounds, which -Wooffa licked for me before we slept; and it was -with a curious sense of satisfaction and completeness, -as if the chief work of my life were now well -done, that I lay down in the old lair which had so -many associations for me, with my wife and well-grown -children by me, and rested through the heat -of the following day.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> -</div> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span></p> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2> -<a name="chap_13" id="chap_13"></a> -<a href="#contents" class="chapref" title="Return to Table of Contents.">CHAPTER <abbr title="13">XIII</abbr></a> <br /> - -<span class="stitle">THE TRAP</span></h2> - - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> old neighbourhood was no place for us to stay -in, however satisfactory our brief visit to it had -been. It was man’s country now, and there were -no other bears in the vicinity. My enemy of the -night before, being old and cunning and solitary, -had managed to live there unscathed year after year, -after the other bears had all gone away or been -killed; but for us, a family of four, of whom two -were inexperienced youngsters not yet two years -old, it was different. Many times during the day -men passed not far from us, and the distant sounds -of their voices and the chopping of axes was in our -ears all day. So we remained under cover till well -into the night, when man’s eyes are useless, and -then we started out silently, and, as our custom -was when moving through dangerous country, in -single file, with the cubs between Wooffa and -myself.</p> - -<p>The end of that summer was very hot, and -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span>partly for the coolness, and partly, also, to get as far -away from man as possible, we went northward -and up into higher ranges of the mountains than -we usually cared to visit.</p> - -<p>As we climbed upwards, the trees grew smaller -and further apart, until, just below the extreme -top, they ceased altogether. Above the tree-line -rose what looked from below like the ordinary -rounded summit of a mountain with rocky sides, -and even at this time of year small patches of -snow still lingered in the sheltered spots. As we -came out on the top, however, instead of the -rounded summit which we expected, the ground -broke suddenly away before our feet, and below us, -blue and still and circular, lay a lake. The mountain -was no more than a shell or a gigantic cup, filled to -within fifty feet of its rocky brim with the clearest -of water. I had seen a similar lake in the year -when I roamed alone before I met Wooffa, and my -father had told me long ago that there were many -of these mountain lakes round us, though, of course, -we could not see them from below.</p> - -<p>Here on these lonely summits live the mountain-sheep -and mountain-goat. Round the edge of the -water their feet had beaten a regular trail, and in -the rough crevices of the bark of the last of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span> -trees, tufts of white wool were sticking where the -goats had rubbed themselves against the trunks. -As we stood on the edge of the thin lip of rock, -a sheep with its great curved horns that had been -drinking at the lake scrambled in alarm up the -further side, and, standing for a minute against the -skyline opposite, disappeared over the edge; and -though we lived there for nearly two months, and -smelled them often and heard them every night, -we never saw one again except clear across the -whole width of the lake. They were probably -right in keeping away from us, because a young -mountain sheep—well, though I had never tasted -one, it somehow suggested thoughts of pig.</p> - -<p>At one side there was a break in the rocky wall -or rim of the cup, and through this the water -trickled, to swell gradually, as it went on down the -mountain, into a stream, which, joining with other -streams, somewhere became, no doubt, a river. At -the point where the water flowed out of the lake, -the hillside was strewn with huge boulders and -fragments of rock down to below the timber-line, -and here among these rocks, where the brush grew -over them and the stream tumbled by, was an -ideal place to spend the remaining hot weather; -and here we stayed. Man, we were sure, had never<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span> -been here, nor was he likely to come, and we -wandered carelessly and without a shadow of -fear.</p> - -<p>Before the cold weather came our family broke -up. We did not quarrel; but it is in the course of -nature that young bears, when they are able to take -care of themselves, should go out into the world. -Wahka was no longer a cub, and there is not room -in one family for two full-grown he-bears. On the -other hand, Wooffa and Kahwa had not of late -got on well together. My wife, as is the way of -women, was a little jealous of my affection for -Kahwa, and—well, sometimes I am bound to say -that I thought Wooffa spent rather too much time -with Wahka and forgot my existence. So on all -accounts it was better that we should separate. I -had been driven away by my father when I was a -year younger than Wahka was now, but I do not -blame him; for the disappearance of Kahwa—the -first Kahwa—and living away from home and -nightly wanderings in the town, had made a breach -between us. Now, at the separation from my son, -there was no bad feeling, and one day by common -consent he and Kahwa went away not to return. -I had no apprehension that they would not be able -to take care of themselves; and as for me, Wooffa<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span> -was company enough, and we were both glad to -have each other all to ourselves again.</p> - -<p>Soon after the children had gone, the chill in the -wind gave warning that winter was not far away, -and we began to move down towards the lower -levels; for on the mountain-tops it is too exposed -and cold, and the snow stays too long to make -them a good winter home. As we looked up a -few days later to the peak which we had left, we -saw it standing out against the dull sky, not yellow-grey -and rocky as we had left it, but all gleaming -white and snow-covered. For a day or two more -we followed the streams down to the lower country, -and then made our dens beneath the roots of two -upturned trees close together. And again, as two -years before, Wooffa spent much time and great -care over the lining of hers, making it very snug -and soft and warm.</p> - -<p>And next spring there were two more little ones—another -woolly brown Wahka, and another Kahwa, -just as woolly and just as brown—to look after and -teach, and protect from porcupines and pumas and -wolves, and make fit for the struggle of life.</p> - -<p>I am not going to attempt to tell you any stories -of the early days of the new cubs, for the events -of a bear’s babyhood are always much alike, and it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span> -is not easy, looking back, to distinguish one’s later -children from one’s first; and I should probably -only tell over again stories of the Wahka and -Kahwa of two years before. They were healthy, -vigorous cubs, the new little ones, and they -tumbled and played and were smacked, and -blundered their way along somehow.</p> - -<p>But it was a terrible year, with late snows long -after spring ought to have begun; and then it rained -and rained all the summer. There was no berry -crop, insects of all kinds had been killed by the late -cold and were very scarce, every stream stayed in -flood, so that the fish never came up properly, and -there was none of the usual hunting along the -exposed herbage as the streams went down in the -summer heat. It was, as I said, a terrible year, -and food was hard to get for a whole family. We -were driven to all sorts of shifts, and then, to -make matters worse, long before the usual time -for winter came, bitter frosts set in. Driven by -hunger and the necessity of finding food for the -little ones we did what we had thought never to -do again, and once more went down to the neighbourhood -of man.</p> - -<p>We were not the only ones that did so, for the -animals were nearly all driven out of the mountains,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span> -and the bears, especially, congregated about the -settlements of man in search of food. Wherever -we went we found the same thing, the bears -coming out at night to hunt round the houses for -food; and many stories we heard of their being -shot when greedily eating meat that had been -placed out for them, or when sniffing round a house -or trying to take a pig. Now, too, man brought a -new weapon beside his thunder-stick—huge traps -with steel jaws that were baited with meat and -covered with sticks and twigs and earth, so that a -bear could not see them; but when he went to take -the meat the great toothed jaws closed round his -leg, and then he found that the trap was chained -to a neighbouring log which he had to drag round -with him till the men came out and killed him -with their thunder-sticks.</p> - -<p>Having been told all about it, when we came -one day to a large piece of a young pig lying on -the ground, I made the others stand away while -I scratched cautiously round and pushed sticks -against the pig, carefully keeping my own paws -out of the way. Even as it was, when the steel -jaws came together with a snap that made the -whole trap leap into the air as if it was alive, they -passed so near my nose that I shudder now when<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span> -I think of it. But we ate the pig. And that -happened two or three times, until the men took -the trap away from that particular place.</p> - -<p>Another time I had a narrow escape on approaching -a house at night. We had been there several -times, and usually picked up some scraps of stuff -that was good. I always went down first alone -to see if all was safe, leaving the others in the -shelter of the woods, and on this occasion I was -creeping stealthily up to the house, when suddenly, -from behind a pile of chopped wood, a -thunder-stick spoke and I felt a sudden pain in -my shoulder. I was only grazed, however, and -scrambled back to Wooffa and the cubs in safety. -But we did not visit that house any more, and I -heard that a few days after another bear that -went down just as I had gone was killed by a -thunder-stick from behind the same pile of wood.</p> - -<p>In the long-run, however, a bear is no match for -man. It was a dangerous life that we were living, -and we knew it; but both Wooffa and I had had -more than ordinary experience of man, and we -believed we could always escape him. Besides, what -else were we to do? It is doubtful if we could have -lived in the mountains that winter, and we had our -cubs to look after. In the old days before man<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span> -came, when, as once in many years, the weather -drove us from the mountains, we could have gone -down to the foot-hills and the plains, and found food -there; but man now barred our way, and the only -thing that we could do was to go where he was, and -live on such food as we could get. Much of that -food was only what was thrown away, but much of it -also we deliberately stole. More than one cornfield -we visited, and in the fenced enclosures round his -houses we found strange vegetables that were good -to eat; but we had to break down fences to get them. -We stole pigs, too, and twice when dogs attacked -us we had to kill the dogs. Once we found half -a sheep, which had been killed by man, lying on the -ground, as if man had forgotten it. We ate it, and -were all dreadfully ill afterwards. Then we knew -that it had been poisoned and put out for us; but, -fortunately, the poison was not enough to kill four -of us, though, I suppose, if any one of us had eaten -the whole, that one would have died. After that -we never touched large pieces of meat which we -found lying about.</p> - -<p>It was, as I have said, a dangerous life, and we -knew it; but we were driven to it, and we -trusted to our experience, our cunning, and our -strength, to pull us through somehow.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span></p> - -<p>Winter came, and we ought to have gone to -our dens, but we were not fit for it. We were -too poorly fed and thin, and hunger would probably -have driven us out in midwinter. It was better -to stay out now. So we stayed, keeping for the -most part in the immediate neighbourhood of a -number of men’s houses along a certain stream. -It was not a town, though there was one a few -miles further down the stream; but for a distance -of a mile or more on both sides of the water there -were houses every hundred yards or so, and all -day long men were at work digging and working -in the ground along by the water looking for gold. -We had kept all other bears away from the place, -and, living in the mountains during the day, we -used to come down at night, never going near the -same house on two nights in succession, but being -sometimes on one side of the stream, which was -easily crossed, and sometimes on the other, and -paying our visits wherever we thought we were -least likely to be expected. Some nights we -would not go near the houses at all, but would -content ourselves with such food as we could find -in the woods, though now in the bitter cold it -was hard to find anything.</p> - -<p>Early one morning, after one of these nights<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span> -when we had kept away from the houses, we came -across a trap. It evidently was a trap, because -there was the bait put out temptingly in plain -sight, not on the ground this time, but about a -foot from the ground, tied to a stick. The curious -thing about it was, however, that the whole affair -was inside some sort of a house; or, rather, there -were the three walls and roof of a small house, -but there was no front to it—that was all -open; and there, well inside, was the bait. I did -not know why men had been at so much pains -to build the house round the trap, but I had no -doubt that if I approached the bait with proper -caution, and scratched at it, the steel jaws would -spring out as usual from somewhere, and then we -could eat the meat. And we were all four distressingly -hungry.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<a name="image_8" id="image_8"></a> -<img src="images/i209.jpg" width="500" height="500" alt="" /> -<div class="caption"> -<p class="caption">IT WAS EVIDENTLY A TRAP.</p> -</div> -<p class="centerref">[<a href="images/i209-l.jpg">Enlarge</a>]</p> -</div> - -<p>So I told the others to stay behind while I -went into the house and sprung the trap and -brought the meat out to them. I went in, and -began to scratch about on the ground where I -supposed the usual trap to be; but there was -nothing there but the hard, dry earth. This -puzzled me, but the lump of meat tied to the -stake was an obvious fact; and I was hungry. -At last, since, scratch as I would, no steel jaws<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span> -appeared from anywhere, nor was there any place -where they could be concealed, nothing remained -but to take the meat boldly. I reached for it -with my paw, but it was firmly tied; so I took -it in my mouth and pulled. As I did so I heard -a sudden movement behind me. A log had -fallen behind me, almost blocking up the door. -Well, I would move that away when I had the -meat, I thought, and, seizing it firmly in my -mouth, I tore it from its fastenings and turned -to take it to the others waiting outside. But the -log across the door was bigger than I thought; -it completely blocked my passage, and when I -gave it a push it did not yield.</p> - -<p>Still, I had no uneasiness. I pushed harder at -the log, but it did not move. I tried to pull it -inward, but it remained unshaken. I sniffed all -along it and round it, and round the other walls -of the small house, and was puzzled as to what -to do next. So I called to Wooffa, who came -outside and began sniffing round, too. Remembering -how I had released Kahwa from her pen, I -told Wooffa to lift the latch; but there was no -latch, she said. This was growing tiresome, and -then, all of a sudden, it dawned on me.</p> - -<p><em>This</em> was the trap—this room! There was no<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span> -steel thing with jaws; no poisoned meat; nothing -but this house, which itself was the trap, left open -at one side so that I might walk in, and so arranged -that as I pulled at the meat the heavy log dropped, -shutting the open door, and dropped in such a -way that the strength of ten bears would not -move it. This was the trap, and I—I was caught!</p> - -<p>That I was really, hopelessly, and finally caught -I could not, of course, believe at first. There -was some mistake—some way out of it. I had -outwitted man so often that it was not to be -thought of that he had won at last. And round -and round the small space I went again and again, -always coming back to the cracks above the fallen -log to scratch and strain at them without the -smallest result. Outside Wooffa was doing the -same. I was inclined to lose my temper with -her at first, believing that if I was outside in her -place I could surely find some way of making -an opening; but I saw that she was trying as -hard to let me out as I was to get out myself. -And then I heard the cubs beginning to whimper, -as they comprehended vaguely what had happened, -and saw their mother’s fruitless efforts and her -evident distress.</p> - -<p>Then I began to rage. I remember taking the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span> -meat in my mouth and, without eating a morsel, -rending it into small bits. I found the stick to -which it had been tied and broke it with my jaws -into a hundred pieces. I attacked the walls and -the door furiously, beating them with my paws -blow after blow that would have broken a bear’s -neck, and tearing at the logs with my teeth till -my gums were cut so that my mouth ran blood. -And outside, as they heard me raging within, -not the cubs only but Wooffa also whimpered -and tore the ground with teeth and claws.</p> - -<p>We might as well have stormed at the sky or -the mountains. The house stood, none the worse, -and I was as far from freedom as ever. By this -time the night had passed and dawn had come. I -could smell it, and see through the chinks that the -air was lightening outside. And then outside I -heard a new sound, a sound that filled me with -rage and fear—the barking of a dog.</p> - -<p>Nearer it came and nearer, and I heard the voice -of a man calling; but the dog was much nearer -than the man, evidently running ahead of him, and -evidently also coming straight for the trap. In -another minute the dog had caught sight of the -bears outside, for I heard the snarling rush of an -angry dog, and with it Wahka growling as the dog<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> -attacked him. The shouting of the man’s voice -grew nearer, and then, mingled with the noise of -the fight between Wahka and the dog, I heard the -angry ‘wooffing’ of Wooffa’s voice. The dog’s -voice changed as it turned to attack this more -formidable enemy, but suddenly its barking ended -in a yelp, followed by another and another, which -slowly faded away into what I knew were its death-cries. -What could any dog expect who dared to face -such a bear as Wooffa fighting for her children?</p> - -<p>But the last of the dog’s death-cries were -drowned by the most awful of all sounds, the voice -of the thunder-stick; and my heart leaped as I -heard Wahka cry out in what I knew was mortal -agony. Then came Wooffa’s voice again, and in -such tones that I pitied anyone who stood before -her. Again the thunder-stick spoke, and I heard -what I knew was Wooffa charging. I heard her -growling in her throat in what was almost a roar, -and the crashing of bushes and the shouts of the -man’s voice, and more crashing of bushes, which -died away in the distance down the hillside. -Then all was silent except where somewhere in the -rear of the house, little Kahwa whimpered miserably -to herself.</p> - -<p>All this I heard, and most of it I understood,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span> -standing motionless and helpless inside the trap, -powerless to help my wife and children when in -such desperate straits within a few yards of me. -As the silence fell and the tension was relaxed, I -fell to raging again, with a fury tenfold greater -than before, tearing and beating at the walls, -rending great lumps of fur out of myself with -my claws, biting my paws till the blood ran, and -filling the air with my cries of helpless anger. -At last through the noise that I was making I -heard Wooffa’s voice. She had returned, and was -speaking to me from outside. Brokenly—for she -was out of breath, and in pain—she told me the -story.</p> - -<p>Wahka was dead, and the dog. The latter she -had killed with her paw; the former had been slain -by the first stroke of the thunder-stick. Then she -had charged at the man, who, however, was a long -way off. The thunder-stick had spoken again, and -had broken her leg. As she fell, the man had -turned to run; she had followed, but he had a start, -and, with her broken leg, she could not have caught -him without chasing him right up to his house. -But he had thrown the thunder-stick away as he -ran, and that she had found and chewed into small -pieces before returning to me. And now her leg<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span> -was utterly useless, here was Kahwa a helpless cub: -what was she to do?</p> - -<p>There was only one thing for her to do: to make -good her own escape with Kahwa if possible. But -how about me? she asked. I must remain. There -was no alternative, and she could do no good by -staying. With her broken leg, she could not help -me against the men, who would undoubtedly -return in force, and she would only be sacrificing -Kahwa’s life and her own. She must go, and at -once.</p> - -<p>She knew in her heart that it was the only thing, -and very reluctantly, for Kahwa’s sake, she consented. -There was no time for long farewells; and -there was no need of them, for we knew that we -loved each other, and, whatever came, each knew -that the other would carry himself or herself -staunchly as a bear should.</p> - -<p>So she went, and I heard her stumbling along -with her broken leg, and Kahwa whining as she -trotted by her mother’s side. I knew that, even if -they escaped with their lives, I should in all -probability never hear of it. I listened till the last -sound had died away and it was so still outside that -it seemed as if everything in the forest must be -dead. My rage had passed away, and in its place -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span>was an unspeakable loneliness and despair; and I -sat myself up in the furthest corner of the narrow -house, with my back against the wall and my face -to the door, and, with my muzzle buried in my -chest, awaited the return of the enemy.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> -</div> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span></p> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2> -<a name="chap_14" id="chap_14"></a> -<a href="#contents" class="chapref" title="Return to Table of Contents.">CHAPTER <abbr title="14">XIV</abbr></a> <br /> - -<span class="stitle">IN THE HANDS OF MAN</span></h2> - - -<p><span class="smcap">It</span> seemed to me that I waited a long time; but -it cannot have been really long, for it was not yet -noon when I heard again the barking of dogs, and -the voices of men approaching. They walked -round and round the trap, and tried to peer through -the crevices, and they let off their thunder-sticks, -presumably to make me give some sign that I was -inside. But I remained crouching in the corner -silent.</p> - -<p>Then I heard them on the roof. A sudden ray -of light pierced the half-darkness, and in another -moment one of the logs from the roof had been -lifted off, and thrown upon the ground outside, and -the sunlight poured in upon me. I heard a shout -from one of the men, and, looking up out of the -corners of my eyes, I saw their heads appearing -in the opening above, one behind the other. But -I did not move nor give any sign that I was -alive.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span></p> - -<p>The next thing I knew was that a rope dropped -on me from above. It had a loop at the end which -fell across my head; and remembering Kahwa, and -how she had been dragged away with ropes about -her, I raised a paw and pushed the thing aside. -Somehow, as I did so, the loop fell over my paw, -and when I tried to shake it off it slipped, and ran -tight about my wrist, and the men at the other -end jerked it till it cut deep into the flesh. Then -I lost my temper, and when a second rope fell on -me I struck at it angrily with my free paw, but -only with the same result. Both my paws were -now fast, the two ropes passing out through the -roof, one at one side and one at the other; and as -the men pulled and jerked on them inch by inch, in -spite of all my strength, my arms were gradually -stretched out full spread on either side of me, and -I was helpless, held up on my hind-legs, unable to -drop my fore-feet to the floor, and unable to reach -the rope on either side with my teeth.</p> - -<p>Then I lost all control of myself, and I remember -nothing of the struggle that followed, except that -everything swam red around me, and I raged -blindly, furiously, impotently. In the end another -rope was fast to one of my hind-legs, and another -round my neck. Then, I know not how, they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span> -lifted the log, which Wooffa and I had been -unable to budge, away from the door, and, fighting -desperately, I was dragged out into the open, and -so, yard by yard, down, down the mountain towards -their houses.</p> - -<p>I was utterly helpless. Four of the men walked, -two on either side of me, each having hold of the -end of a rope, and all the ropes were kept taut. If -I stopped, the two dogs that they had with them -fell upon my heels and bit, and I could not turn or -use a paw to reach them. If I tried to charge at -the men on either side, my feet were jerked from -under me before I could move a yard. And somewhere -close behind me all the while, I knew, walked -the last man, with a thunder-stick in his hand, which -might speak at any minute.</p> - -<p>It was nearly evening by the time that they had -dragged me the mile or so to where their houses -were. As we came near, other men joined us, until -there must have been thirty or more; but the -original four still held the ropes, and they dragged -me into one of the buildings, several times larger -than the trap, and, making holes in the walls -between the logs, they passed the ends of the ropes -through them and made them fast outside, so that -I was still held in the same position, with my two<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span> -arms stretched out on either side of me and the -ropes cutting into the flesh. So they left me. -They left me for two days and two nights. Often -they came in and looked at me and spoke to me, -and once the ropes were slackened for a minute or -two from the sides, and a large pail of water was -pushed within my reach. I think they saw that I -was going mad from thirst, as certainly I was. I -plunged my face into the water and drank, and as -soon as I ceased the ropes were pulled tight and -the pail was taken away. It was not until the -third day that I had a mouthful to eat, when the -same thing was repeated: the ropes were slackened -for a while, and both food and drink were pushed -up to me. I was allowed a longer time to make -the meal, but, as soon as I had finished, the ropes -were tightened once more. Two days later I was -given another meal; and then two days and another. -But I was never given as much food as I wanted, -but only enough to keep me alive. By this time -I had come to distinguish the men apart, and one -I saw was the master of the others. He it was -who always brought me my food, and—I am -ashamed to confess it—I began to look forward -to his coming.</p> - -<p>Kill him? Yes, gladly would I have killed him,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span> -had he put himself within my reach; but I saw -that he meant me no harm. The tone of his voice -when he spoke to me was not angry. Whenever -he spoke he called me ‘Peter,’ and I came to understand -that this was the name he had given me. -When he came to the door and said ‘Peter,’ I knew -that food was coming. I hated him thoroughly; -but it seemed that he was all that stood between -me and starvation, and, however much he made me -suffer, I understood that he did not intend to kill -me or wish to let me die. Then I remembered -what Kahwa had said about the man who gave her -food and used to play with her, and I began to -comprehend it. No one ever attempted to play -with me, or dared to put themselves within reach -of my paws; but after a while this man, the man -whom I in my turn now thought of as Peter, when -my paws were safely bound and the ropes taut, -would come to me and lay his hand upon my head, -taking care to keep well away out of reach of my -teeth. He rarely came to see me, at any time of -the day or night, without bringing me lumps of -sugar, which he held out to my mouth on the end -of a piece of board so that I could lick them off; -and after a while he gave me meals every day, and -I was less hungry.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span></p> - -<p>Then one day another rope was slipped over -my nose, so that I could not bite, and, while all -the ropes were stretched to their uttermost and -I could not move an inch, Peter put a heavy -collar round my neck, to which was fastened a -chain that I could neither break nor gnaw. And -when that had been firmly fastened round one -of the logs in the wall, the ropes were all taken -off.</p> - -<p>Wow-ugh! The relief of it! Both my wrists -and one of my ankles where the ropes had been -were cut almost to the bone, and horribly painful; -but though it was at first excruciating agony to -rest my weight on my front-feet, the delight -of being able to get on all fours again, and to be -able to move around to the full length of the -chain, was inexpressible. I had not counted the -days, but it must have been over a month since -I was captured, and all that time I had been -bound so that, sleeping or waking, I was always -in the same position, sitting on my haunches, -with the ropes always pulling at my outstretched -arms.</p> - -<p>For another month and more I was kept in -the same building, always chained and with the -collar round my neck, until one day they tried<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span> -to put the ropes on me again; but I was cunning -now, and would not let them do it. I simply -lay down, keeping my nose and paws in the earth, -and, as long as a rope was anywhere near me, -refused to move either for food or drink. But -a bear is no match for men. They appeared to -give up all attempts to put ropes on me, until -a few days later they brought a lump of wool -on the end of a long stick, and pushed it into -my face till I bit at it and worried it. It was -soaked in something the smell of which choked -me and made me dizzy, and when I could hardly -see, somehow they slipped a sack over my head -that reeked with the same smell, and the next thing -I knew was that I must have been asleep for -an hour or more and the ropes were on all my legs -again. When they began to drag me out of the -building, I resisted at first; but I soon knew it was -useless, so I made up my mind to go quietly, and -they took me away, down the stream and over -mountains for several days and nights, until one -evening we came to a town and they dragged -me into a box nearly as big as a house, and bigger -than the trap in which I had been caught. And -soon the box began to move. I know now that -I was on the railway. We travelled for days<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span> -and days, out of the mountains into the plains, -where for three days there were no trees or hills, -but only the great stretch of flat yellow land. -I had no idea that there was so much of the -world.</p> - -<p>From the railway I was put on a boat, and from -the boat back on the railway, and from that back -on a boat again. For nearly a month we were -constantly moving, always as far as I could tell, in -the same direction; and yet we never came to the -end of the world. During this time Peter was -always with me or close at hand. He gave me -all my meals, and when other men took the ropes -to lead me from the railway to the boat or back -again, if I got angry, he spoke to me, and for some -reason, though I hardly know why myself, it -calmed me. It was not until I had been in the -gardens here, in this same cage, for some days -that at last he went away and never came back. -That was two years ago. When he went away, -the new Peter took charge of me, and he has -been here ever since.</p> - -<p>Two years! It is a long time to be shut up -in a cage. But I mind it less than I did at first. -Why does man do it? I do not understand; -nor can I guess what I am wanted for. I stay<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span> -here in the cage all the time, and Peter brings -me meals and cleans the cage, one half at a time, -when I am shut up in the other half; and crowds -of people come and walk past day after day, and -look at me, and give me all sorts of things to eat—some -quite ridiculous things, like paper bags and -walnut-shells and pocket-handkerchiefs. Peter, -I believe, means to be kind to me always, and I -think he is proud of me, from the way he brings -people to look at me. But how could you expect -me to be friendly to man after all that I have -suffered at his hands? Even Peter, as I have -said, never comes into the same half of the cage -with me. I have often wondered what I would -do if he did. Twice only have men come within -my reach when my paws have been free, and -neither of them will ever go too near a bear again. -But I am not sure whether I would hurt Peter or -not. I like him to scratch my head through the -bars.</p> - -<p>Twice since I have been here they have given -me a she-bear as a companion, and she has tried to -make friends with me; but they had to take her -away again. Let them bring me Wooffa if they -think I am lonely.</p> - -<p>And I am lonely at times—in spring and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span> -summer especially, when it is hot and dusty, and -I remember how Wooffa and I used to have the -cool forests to wander in at nights, and the thick, -moist shade of the brush by the water’s edge to -lie in during the day. Then I get sick for the -scent of the pines, and the touch of the wet -bushes, and the feel of the good soft earth under -my claws. And sometimes in the heat of the day -I hear the scream of an eagle from somewhere -round there to the right (it is in a cage, I suppose, -like myself, for it calls always from the same place, -and I never hear a mate answering), and it all -comes back to me—the winding streams and the -beaver-dams, with the kingfishers, black and white, -darting over the water, and the osprey sitting and -screaming from its post on the pine-top. And at -night sometimes, when the wolves howl and the -deer whistle, or the whine of a puma reaches my -ears—all caged, I suppose—the longing for the -old life becomes almost intolerable. I yearn for -the long mountain-slopes, with the cool night-wind -blowing; and the stately rows of trees, black-stemmed -and silver-topped in the moonlight; and -the noise of the tumbling streams in one’s ears, -when all the world was mine to wander in—mine -and Wooffa’s.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span></p> - -<p>Yes, I want freedom; but I want Wooffa most. -And I do not even know, and never shall know -now, whether she and Kahwa escaped with their -lives that day, when I could not get to her even -to lick the blood from her broken leg.</p> - -<p>But, on the other hand, these thoughts only come -when some external sight or sound arouses them in -me, and at ordinary times I am content. I have -enough to eat, which, after all, is the main thing -in life, and am saved the work of finding food for -myself. I never know real hunger now, as sometimes -I knew it in the old days when the frost was on the -ground; and there is no need now to hibernate. -My first winter here I started, as a matter of -habit, and scratched the sawdust and stuff into a -heap in that corner over there. But what was the -use, when it never got cold and my meals came -every day?</p> - -<p>My claws are growing horribly long from lack -of use, because there is nothing here to dig for; -and I know I am getting fat from want of exercise. -But it is pleasant enough lying and dreaming of -the old days; and, after all, perhaps I have lived -my life. There is nothing that I look back upon -with shame. It was not my fault that my sister -Kahwa died; for I did my best to save her.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span> -Even if the later little Kahwa perished, still, I sent -one son and a daughter out into the world, fit I -think, to hold their own. Above all, I avenged the -old insult to my parents. What more could I -have done had I had my freedom longer?</p> - -<p>It is all good to remember, and, except when I -long for Wooffa, I am content.</p> - - -<p class="end">THE END</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> -<p class="crightend">BILLING AND SONS, LTD., PRINTERS, GUILDFORD</p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<div class="footnote"> -<h2>FOOTNOTES</h2> -<p><a name="Footnote-1" id="Footnote-1"></a><span class="label">[<a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor-1">1</a>]</span> It is not possible to give any idea of how a bear says -<em>wow-ugh</em>. The <em>wow</em> begins at the bottom of the octave, runs -halfway up and then down again, and the <em>ugh</em> comes from -the very inside of his insides. It is as if he started on the -ground floor of a house, <em>wowed</em> clear upstairs to the top and -down again, and then went into the cellar to say <em>ugh!</em></p> - -<p><a name="Footnote-2" id="Footnote-2"></a><span class="label">[<a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor-2">2</a>]</span> -The striped ground squirrels of North America.</p> - -<p><a name="Footnote-3" id="Footnote-3"></a><span class="label">[<a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor-3">3</a>]</span>The new mining town or camp of the Far West has no -long rows of houses or paved streets. The houses are built -of logs or of boards, rarely more than one story high, and -are set down irregularly. There may be one more or less -well-defined ‘street’—the main trail running through the -camp—but even along that there will be wide gaps between -the houses; while, for the rest, the buildings are at all sorts -of angles, so that a man or a bear may wander through -them as he pleases, regardless of whether he is following a -‘street’ or not.</p> - -<p><a name="Footnote-4" id="Footnote-4"></a><span class="label">[<a title="Return to text." href="#Anchor-4">4</a>]</span> -The North American elk is the wapiti.</p> -</div> -</div> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Life Story of a Black Bear, by -Harry Perry Robinson - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LIFE STORY OF A BLACK BEAR *** - -***** This file should be named 55583-h.htm or 55583-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/5/5/8/55583/ - -Produced by Mhairi Hindle and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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