Chapter 54 - The Plant Hunters by Mayne Reid

A Demand for Bear’s Grease.

The peril from which he had just escaped, drove all thoughts of fishing out of Ossaroo’s head, for that day at least. Moreover, the net was damaged by the rope having been so rudely taken out, and would require repairs before it could be set again; so, taking up the fish that had been caught and the net also, Caspar and the fisherman walked off toward the hut.

On arriving there, they were surprised to find that Karl had not returned, for it was getting late; and fearing that some accident might have happened to him, they lost no time in setting forth in search of him.

As already known they were guided upon his trail by Fritz, and arrived just in time to save Karl’s life.

“But tell us, brother,” inquired Caspar after a while, “what took you up there anyhow?”

Karl now entered into a detail of his afternoon’s adventures—telling them at the same time of the hope he had conceived of their being able to scale the precipice with ladders.

When he came to the bear, Caspar was all ears.

“What! a bear?” he exclaimed; “a bear, you say, brother?—Which way did it go?”

“Into the cave—it is still there.”

“Still in the cave! Good! we’ll have him out—let us go after him at once.”

“No, brother, it is better not,—it might be dangerous to attack, him in the cave.”

“Not a bit of it,” replied the daring hunter; “Ossaroo says that these bears are great cowards, and that he would not be afraid to attack one single-handed with his spear. You think so, shikarree?”

“Yes, Sahib, he bear—big coward, me no fear him anywhere.”

“You remember, Karl, how the other one ran from us—just like a deer would have done.”

“But this one is a different kind,” suggested Karl; and Karl proceeded to describe the bear which he had encountered.

Ossaroo, however, knew the animal by the description given, and declared that it was quite as timid a creature as the sloth-bear. He had hunted this kind in the Sylhet Hills—where he had been upon an expedition—and where, he asserted, the Tibet bear was to be found in considerable numbers. It would not be dangerous, therefore, to attack it in the cave, or anywhere else. Such was the opinion of the shikarree.

Karl at length ceased to urge his objections. He began to think that the bear had not been in pursuit of him, after all,—else it would have returned out of the cave on not finding him—most likely the cave was its den, and it was to hide itself there that it had rushed so determinedly past him. This appeared probable enough, since they had been waiting a good while, and Bruin had not yet condescended to show himself upon the ledge.

It was resolved, therefore, that they should all enter the cavern, and kill the bear if possible.

This resolve, however, was not made without considerable deliberation; but two reasons were at length brought forward that not only decided the point in favour of killing the bear, but rendered it a matter of some consequence that they should succeed in this design.

The first reason was that they really wanted the animal, and it was of importance to them that it should be killed.

It was not for its fine skin they wanted it—though that might be of use to them in the cold winter, now near at hand—nor did they want to kill the bear merely for the pleasure and excitement of the thing. No. They had a very different object in view. They wanted the carcass, or rather that portion of it that is termed the “fat.” They wanted the “bear’s grease.”

For what purpose? you will ask. To make their hair grow? Nothing of the sort. The hair of all three, from late neglect, was long enough—quite as long as they could have wished it. Caspar’s curls hung over his shoulders, and Ossaroo’s snaky black tresses dangled down his back like the tail of a horse. Even Karl’s silken locks were long enough to have satisfied the most romantic of refugees. No. They wanted the bear’s fat, not for their hair, but for their kitchen. They wanted it to cook with, for one thing, but a still more important use they intended to apply it to,—and that was for making candles! For both of the above purposes they had need of the bear’s fat, since the other animals which they were accustomed to hunt and kill were chiefly ruminant animals, with very little fat upon them, and never enough of it to cook their own flesh.

You who live in a land where there is plenty of lard and butter, can hardly understand what it is to be without these essential articles of the cuisine. In most civilised countries that valuable pachyderm,—the pig,—supplies the desideratum of lard; and you will scarce appreciate the importance of this article until you have travelled in a country where the hog is not found among the domesticated animals. In such places the smallest morsel of fat is highly prized, for without it, good cooking is a dry and difficult business.

Such considerations as these determined the fate of the bear. The hunters well knew that animals of this kind yield large quantities of the very best fat, which they then stood in want of, and would need still more during the long nights of winter. Perhaps there might be more than one bear in the cave; so much the better; one or more, they must be attacked and killed.

But there was another reason why they had determined to enter the cave; one of far greater consideration than the killing of the bear. It was Caspar who had suggested it.

“Why,” asked he, “why might we not get out by this very cave? What if it should prove to run upward, and have an entrance above, or on the other side of the mountain?”

Both Karl and Ossaroo were startled at the suggestion. The idea put all of them into a flurry of excitement.

“I have read of such things,” continued Caspar; “of great caverns that extended from one side of a mountain to the other. There is one in America that has been traced for twelve miles; the Mammoth, I mean! This might be one of the same kind. You say you saw far into it, Karl? Let us explore it then, and see where it leads to.”

It was but a slight hope, still it was a hope; and it could not cost much trouble to give the cave a thorough exploration. It would be but a small matter compared with the construction of ladders to scale the cliff; besides, they were now convinced by a farther examination of the precipice that this was not practicable, and had quite abandoned all thought of it. Should the cavern prove to be of vast extent, and have another opening elsewhere than in the valley, they might escape from their terrible prison, and their troubles would be at an end.

With such hopes,—that were indeed little better than fancies,—they consoled themselves for the moment.

It was resolved, then, that on the morrow the cave was to be entered. For all the assistance they would have from the light of the sun, they might as well have begun their exploration at night. But they were not ready to begin. Torches had to be procured; and a notched tree by which to ascend the cliff; and to obtain these required time. They would have them ready by the morrow.

With this determination, they returned to their hut; and at once set about making the torches, and preparing the notched tree for their ladder. There were other little preparations to be made, but most of them were completed before they thought of retiring to rest.