Chapter 22 - The Hunt of the Wild Horse by Mayne Reid
Chased by a “Grizzly”
The object that inspired me with such alarm was an animal—the most dreaded of all that inhabit the prairies—the grizzly bear.
This bear was one of the largest; but it was not his size that impressed me with fear, so much as the knowledge of his fierce nature. It was not the first time I had encountered the grizzly bear; and I knew his habits well.
I was familiar with the form and aspect, and could not be mistaken as to the species; the long shaggy pelage, the straight front, and broad facial disk—which distinguishes this species from the Ursus Americanus—the yellowish eyes, the large teeth, but half concealed by the lips, and, above all, the long curving claws—the most prominent marks of the grizzly bear, as they are his most formidable means of attack—were all easily identified.
When my eyes first rested upon the brute, he was just emerging out of the barranca at the very spot where I had climbed up myself. It was his tracks, then, I had observed while scaling the cliff!
On reaching the level of the prairie, he advanced a pace or two, and then halting, reared himself erect, and stood upon his hind-legs; at the same time he uttered a snorting sound, which resembled the “blowing” of hogs when suddenly startled in the forest. For some moments he remained in this upright attitude, rubbing his head with his fore-paws, and playing his huge arms about after the manner of monkeys. In fact, as he stood fronting me, he looked not unlike a gigantic ape; and his yellowish-red colour favoured a resemblance to the great ourang.
When I say that I was terrified by the presence of this unwelcome intruder, I speak no more than truth. Had I been on horseback, I should have regarded the creature no more than the snail that crawled upon the grass. The grizzly bear is too slow to overtake a horse; but I was afoot, and knew that the animal could outrun me, however swift I might deem myself.
To suppose that he would not attack me would have been to suppose an improbability. I did not reckon upon such a chance; I knew too well the disposition of the enemy that was approaching. I knew that in nine cases out of ten the grizzly bear is the assailant—that no animal in America will willingly risk a contest with him; and I am not certain that the lion of Africa would wear his laurels after an encounter with this fierce quadruped.
Man himself shuns such an encounter, unless mounted upon the friendly horse; and even then, where the ground is not clear and open, the prudent trapper always gives “old Ephraim”—the prairie sobriquet of the grizzly—a wide berth, and rides on without molesting him. The white hunter reckons a grizzly bear equal in prowess to two Indians; while the Indian himself accounts the destruction of one of these animals a great feat in his life’s history. Among Indian braves, a necklace of bear’s claws is a badge of honour—since these adornments can be worn only by the man who has himself killed the animals from which they have been taken.
On the other hand, the grizzly bear fears no adversary; he assails the largest animals on sight. The elk, the moose, the bison, or wild-horse, if caught, is instantly killed. With a blow of his paw, he can lay open the flesh, as if it had been gashed with an axe; and he can drag the body of a full-grown buffalo to any distance. He rushes upon man, whether mounted or on foot; and a dozen hunters have retreated before his furious assault. A dozen bullets—ay, nearly twice that number—have been fired into the body of a grizzly bear without killing him; and only a shot through the brain or the heart will prove instantaneously mortal.
Gifted with such tenacity of life and sanguinary fierceness of disposition, no wonder the grizzly bear is a dreaded creature. Were he possessed of the fleetness of the lion or tiger, he would be a more terrible assailant than either; and it is not too much to say that his haunts would be unapproachable by man. Compared with the horse, however, he is slow of foot; and there is another circumstance scarcely less favourable to those who pass through his district—he is not a tree-climber. Indeed, he does not inhabit the forest; but there is usually some timber in the neighbourhood of his haunts; and many a life has been saved by his intended victim having taken refuge in a tree.
I was well acquainted with these points in the natural history of the grizzly bear; and you may fancy the feelings I experienced at finding myself in the presence of one of the largest and fiercest upon the naked plain, alone, dismounted, almost unarmed!
There was not a bush where I could hide myself, not a tree into which I might climb. There was no means of escape, and almost none of defence; the knife was the only weapon I had with me; my rifle I had left upon the other side of the barranca, and to reach it was out of the question. Even could I have got to the path that led down the cliff, it would have been madness to attempt crossing there; for although not a tree-climber, the grizzly bear, by means of his great claws, could have scaled the cliff more expeditiously than I. Had I made the attempt, I should have been caught before I could have reached the bottom of the ravine.
The bear was directly in the path. It would have been literally flinging myself “into his embrace” to have gone that way.
These reflections occupy minutes of your time to read; I thought them in less than moments. A single glance around showed me the utter helplessness of my situation; I saw there was no alternative but a desperate conflict—a conflict with the knife!
Despair, that for a moment had unnerved, now had the effect of bracing me; and, fronting my fierce foe, I stood ready to receive him.
I had heard of hunters having conquered and killed the grizzly bear with no other weapon than a knife—but; after a terrible and protracted struggle—after many wounds; and sore loss of blood. I had read in the book of a naturalist, that “a man might end a struggle with a bear in a few instants, if one hand be sufficiently at liberty to grasp the throat of the animal with the thumb and fingers externally, just at the root of the tongue, as flight degree of compression there will generally suffice to produce a spasm of the glottis, that will soon suffocate the bear beyond the power of offering resistance or doing injury.”
Beautiful theory! Sagacious naturalist! How wouldst thou like to make the experiment? Hast thou ever heard of birds being caught by the application of “salt to the tail!” The theory is as correct as thine, and I am certain the practice of it would not be more difficult!
But I digress among these after-thoughts. I had no time to reflect upon “compressions of the tongue” or “spasms of the glottis.” My antagonist soon finished his reconnaissance of me, and, dropping upon all-fours and uttering a loud scream, rushed towards me with open mouth.
I had resolved to await his onset; but as he came nearer, and I beheld his great gaunt form, his gleaming teeth, and his senna-coloured eyes flashing like fire, changed my design; a new thought came suddenly into my mind; I turned and fled.
The thought that prompted me to adopt this course was, that just then I remembered the antelope I had shot; the bear might be attracted by the carcass, and pause over it—maybe long enough to give me a start, or enable me to escape altogether. If not, my situation could be no worse than it then was.
Alas! my hope was short-lived. On reaching the antelope, the fierce monster made no halt. I glanced back to see; he was already past it, and following rapidly upon my heels.
I am a swift runner—one of the swiftest. Many a school-day triumph can I remember; but what was my speed against such a competitor! I was only running myself out of breath. I should be less prepared for the desperate conflict that must, after all, take place; better for me to turn, and at once face the foe!
I had half resolved—was about to turn, in fact—when an object flashed before my eyes that dazzled them. Inadvertently I had run in the direction of the pond; I was now upon its edge. It was the sun gleaming from the water that had dazzled me—for the surface was calm as a mirror.
A new idea—a sort of half-hope—rushed into my mind. It was the straw to the drowning man. The fierce brute was close behind me; another instant, and we must have grappled.
“Not yet, not yet,” thought I. “I shall fight him in the water—in the deep water: that may give me an advantage. Perhaps, then, the contest will be more equal; perhaps I may escape by diving.”
I sprang into the pond without a moment of hesitation.
The water was knee-deep. I plunged onward, making for the centre; the spray rose round me; the pond deepened as I advanced; I was soon up to the waist.
I glanced around with anxious heart; the bear was standing upon the shore. To my surprise and joy, I saw that he had halted, and seemed disinclined to follow me.
I say, to my surprise I saw this, for I knew that water has no terrors for the grizzly bear; I knew that he could swim; I had seen many of his kind crossing deep lakes and rapid rivers. What, then, hindered him from following me?
I could not guess, nor, indeed, did I try to guess, at the moment; I thought of nothing but getting farther from the shore, and waded on till I had arrived near the centre of the lake and stood neck-deep in the water. I could go no farther without swimming, and therefore came to a stand, with my face turned towards my pursuer.
I watched his every movement. He had risen once more upon his hind-quarters, and in this attitude stood looking after me, but still apparently without any intention of taking to the water.
After regarding me for some moments, he fell back upon all-fours, and commenced running round the border of the pond, as if searching for a place to enter.
There were still not over two hundred paces between us, for the pond was only twice that in diameter. He could easily have reached me, had he felt so disposed; but for some reason or other, he seemed disinclined to a “swim,” though for nearly half-an-hour he kept running backwards and forwards along the shore.
Now and then he made short excursions out into the prairie; but always returned again, and regarded me afresh, as though determined not to lose sight of me for any length of time. I was in hopes that he might stray round to the other side of the pond, and give me the chance of making a rush for the ravine; but no; he continued on that side where he had first appeared, as though he suspected my design.
I knew not how long the siege was to last; but as I well understood the implacable disposition of the grizzly bear, I could not hope that the scene would be otherwise than protracted.
It lasted a long while—more than an hour I should think. I began to despair. I shivered. The pond must have been a spring, so chill were its waters. I shivered, but kept my place; I dared not move out of it. I even feared to agitate the water around me, lest by so doing I might excite my fierce enemy, and tempt his onset. I shivered, but stood still.
My patience was at length rewarded. The bear, making one of his short tours into the prairie, espied the carcass of the antelope. I saw that he had halted over something, though I could not tell what, for my eyes were below the level of the plain.
Presently his head was raised again, and in his jaws were the remains of the prong-horn. To my joy I perceived that he was dragging it towards the barranca, and in another minute he had disappeared with it behind the cliff.