Chapter 11 - The Grand Bear Hunt by Mayne Reid
Hand to Hand
Alexis and Ivan, as they started back, simultaneously screamed out a shout of warning to Pouchskin. Both, almost at the same instant, raised their guns, and fired into the buttocks of the bear.
Pouchskin had heard their cries, but not the preliminary “sniff” which the animal had uttered: he had been too eager in listening inside of the cave, to hear aught that was passing without. He heard their warning cry however, and the reports of their guns; but not in time to get out of the way. Just as the shots were fired, he had half risen from his recumbent attitude; but the bear at that moment dropped down from the tree, and coming “co-thump” on the back of the old guardsman, once more flattened him out upon his face!
Perhaps it would have been as well for Pouchskin, if he had quietly remained in that attitude: for the bear had already turned from him, and showed signs of an intention to retreat; but Pouchskin, deeming that he was in the worst position he could well be in, scrambled suddenly to his feet, and made a “grab” at his gun.
This show of fight on the part of his antagonist—and the belief, perhaps, that it was Pouchskin that had so rudely tickled his posteriors—roused the fury of the bear; and instead of exposing his hind quarters to a second assault, he charged mouth open upon the ex-guardsman. By this time, the latter had recovered his gun, and promptly brought the piece to his shoulder; but, alas! the gun snapped! The lock had been wetted in the snow-trap. It was a flint lock, and the priming had got damped.
The failure only increased the fury of the animal; and a charge of swan-shot, which Ivan at the same instant fired from his second barrel, still further irritated him.
Pouchskin drew his long-bladed knife. It was the only weapon he could lay his hand upon, for the axe, which might have served him better, had been left above on the bank, where he had lopped the sapling.
He drew his knife, therefore, and prepared to defend himself in a hand to paw struggle.
He might still have retreated, though not with a certainty of safety—for in the hurry of the moment the bear had got on the bank above him: and had he turned his back, the fierce quadruped might have overtaken, and knocked him down at his will. Pouchskin thought it better to face the bear, and receive his onslaught at arm’s length.
There was but one way in which he could have retreated, and that was backward down the slope. He might make ground in that direction; and it occurred to him to do so, in order to get footing on a more level surface.
The bear having paused a moment to bite the place where the rifle bullet had stung him, gave Pouchskin time to gain some ground backwards; but only a few paces—since the whole affair did not occupy a tenth of the time taken in describing it.
Just as Pouchskin had reached the bottom of the slope, his angry assailant, with a terrific growl, rushed forth from the smoke, and galloped directly towards him. When about three feet distant from the hunter, Bruin reared upon his hind legs, in the attitude of a prize-fighter!
Pouchskin was seen to lunge forward with his right arm—the one which carried his knife; and, the moment after, both man and beast appeared closed together, “in grips.”
In this fashion they went waltzing over the snow, the spray of which rose in a cloud around them; and for a while they were seen only as one dark upright form, in confused and violent motion!
Ivan was uttering cries of fear—fear for the safety of his dearly-loved Pouchskin; while Alexis, more cool, was rapidly reloading his rifle,—knowing that the surest means of saving the life of their faithful attendant, was to encompass the death of the bear.
It was a moment of real peril for Pouchskin. The bear was one of the largest and fiercest he had ever encountered; and, perhaps, had he examined the brute more minutely before the conflict commenced, he would have thought twice before facing him. But the smoke from the guns was still over and around the spot, hanging upon the damp air. Up to the time when Pouchskin resolved to make stand, he had not yet had a clear view of his shaggy antagonist. When at length he perceived the formidable proportions of the animal, it was too late to retreat; and the struggle began as described.
In brief time Alexis—who at loading was quick as a tirailleur—had recharged his piece, and was now hastening up to the rescue.
Without going quite close he dared not fire: for in the way that man and bear were dancing about, there would be as much danger of killing the one as the other.
All at once, however, they appeared to separate. Pouchskin had torn himself out of the bear’s clutches, and, evidently disinclined to a renewal of the embrace, was retreating backward, over the snow, still hotly pursued by the animal.
At this moment Alexis would have fired; but, unfortunately, the direction in which Pouchskin was going, kept his body nearly in a line with that of the animal; and Alexis could not fire without danger of hitting him.
The chase led across the ravine, and of course over the bed of snow. The pursued was doing his best to escape. But the pursuer had the advantage—for while the man was breaking through at every step, the broad-pawed quadruped glided over the frozen crust without sinking an inch.
Pouchskin had got a little the start, but his pursuer was fast gaining upon him. Once or twice, indeed, the bear was close enough to touch Pouchskin’s skirts with his extended snout; but the necessity of rearing up, before making a stroke with his paw, required him to get still nearer, and Bruin knew that.
He had, however, got near enough even for this; and had risen on his hind feet, with the intention of clawing down his victim. Ivan and Alexis simultaneously uttered a cry of dismay; but before the dangerous stroke could descend, he for whom it was intended had sunk out of sight!
At first, the young hunters believed the blow had been struck, and that Pouchskin had fallen prostrate under it. They saw the bear spring forward as if to cover the fallen man; but the next moment their terror was mingled with astonishment on seeing, or rather not seeing, either man or bear: both had suddenly disappeared!