Chapter 57 - The Grand Bear Hunt by Mayne Reid
The Bruang
As the party proceeded onward, they observed several other tapang-trees, with ladders attached to them; and at the bottom of one of these—which was the tallest they had yet seen—the guide made a halt.
Taking off his kris, and throwing to the ground an axe, which he had brought along, he commenced ascending the tree.
Our hunters inquired his object. They knew it could not be either honey or wax. There had been a bees’ nest upon this tree—as the ladder told—but that had been removed long ago; and there now appeared nothing among the branches that should make it worth while to climb up to them. The answer of the bee-hunter explained his purpose. He was merely ascending to have a lookout over the forest—which in that neighbourhood could not be obtained by any other means than by the climbing of a tapang.
It was fearful to watch the man ascending to such a dizzy height, and with such a flimsy, uncertain support beneath his feet. It reminded them of what they had seen at the Palombière of the Pyrenees.
The Dyak soon reached the top of the ladder; and for some ten minutes or more clung there—screwing his head around, and appearing to examine the forest on all sides. At length his head rested steadily upon his shoulders; and his gaze appeared to be fixed in one particular direction. He was too distant for the party at the bottom of the tree to note the expression upon his countenance; but his attitude told them that he had made some discovery.
Shortly after he came down; and reported this discovery in laconic phrase, simply saying:—
“Bruang—see him!”
The hunters knew that “bruang” was the Malayan name for bear; and the coincidence of this word with the sobriquet “Bruin” had already led them to indulge in the speculation, as to whether the latter might not have originally come from the East?
They did not stay to think of it then: for the guide, on regaining terra firma, at once started off—telling them to follow him.
After going rapidly about a quarter of a mile through the woods, the Dyak began to advance more cautiously—carefully examining each of the trunks of the tapangs that stood thinly scattered among the other trees.
At one of these he was seen to make an abrupt halt, at the same instant turning his face upward. The young hunters, who were close behind him, could see that there were scratches upon the soft succulent bark, as if caused by the claws of some animal; but, almost as soon as they had made the observation, their eyes were directed to the animal itself.
Away up on the tall tapang—just where its lowest limbs parted from the main stem—a black body could be distinguished. At such a distance it appeared not bigger than a squirrel; but, for all that, it was a Bornean bear; and the spot of vivid orange upon its breast could be seen shining like a coal of fire. Close by its snout a whitish mass appeared attached under the branches. This was the waxen domicile of the lanyeh bees; and a slight mist-like cloud, which hung over the place, was the swarm itself—no doubt engaged in angry conflict with the plunderer of their hive.
The little bear was too busy in the enjoyment of his luscious meal—that is, if the stings of the lanyehs allowed him to enjoy it—to look below; and for some minutes the hunters stood regarding him, without making a movement.
Satisfied with their inspection, they were at length preparing to fire at him; when they were hindered by the Dyak—who, making signs to them to be silent, drew them all back from the tree.
When out of sight of the bear, he counselled them to adopt a different plan. He said—what was true enough—that at such a height they might miss the bear; or, even if they should hit him, a bullet would scarce bring him down—unless it should strike him in a vital part. In the contingency of their missing, or only slightly wounding him, the animal would at once ascend further up into the tapang; and, hidden behind the leaves and branches, might defy them. He would there remain till hunger should force him down; and, since he was just in the act of having his meal, and had, no doubt, been eating from the time he was first espied—or longer, perhaps—he would be in a condition to stay in the tree, until their patience should be more than exhausted.
True, they might fell the tree: they had an axe, and could soon cut the tree down—as the wood was soft; but the Dyak alleged that the bruang in such cases usually contrives to escape. The tapang rarely falls all the way, but only upon the tops of the trees that stand thickly round; and as the Bornean bear can climb and cling like a monkey, he is never shaken out of the branches, but springs from them into some other tree—among the thick leaves of which he may conceal himself; or, by getting to the ground, manage to steal off.
His advice, therefore, was, that the hunters should conceal themselves behind the trunks of the surrounding trees; and, observing silence, wait till the bruang had finished his mellifluous repast, and feel inclined to come down. The Dyak said he would make his descent stern foremost; and, if they acted cautiously, they might have him at their mercy, and almost at the muzzles of their guns.
There was only one of the three who was not agreeable to this plan; and that was the impatient Ivan; but, overruled by the advice of his brother, he also gave his consent to it.
The three now took their respective stands behind three trees—that formed a sort of triangle around the tapang; and the guide, who had no gun, placed himself apart—holding his kris in readiness to finish off the bear, should the animal be only wounded.
There was no danger to be dreaded from the encounter. The little bear of Borneo is only dangerous to the bees and white ants—or other insects—which he is accustomed to lick up with his long tongue. The human hunter has nothing to fear from him, any more than from a timid deer—though he will scratch, and growl, and bite, if too closely approached.
It was just as the Dyak had predicted. The bruang, having finished his meal, was seen coming down the tree tail foremost; and in this way would no doubt have continued on to the ground; but, before he had got halfway down the trunk, Ivan’s impatience got the better of him; and the loud bang of his fowling-piece filled the forest with its echoes. Of course it was a bullet that Ivan had fired; and it appeared that he had missed. It was of little use firing also his shot barrel, though he did so immediately after.
The effect of his shots was to frighten the bruang back up the tree; and at the first report he commenced ascending. Almost as rapidly as a cat he swarmed upward; and for a moment the chances of losing him appeared as two to one. But Alexis, who had been watching the restless movements of his brother, had prepared himself for such an issue; and, waiting till the bruang made a pause just under the branches, he fired his rifle with deadlier aim. The bear, in clutching to one of the limbs, had extended his body outward, and this gave the rifleman the chance of aiming at his head. The bullet must have told: for the bear, instead of ascending higher, was seen hanging down from the limb, as if he was clinging to it with enfeebled strength.
At this moment the cannon-like report of Pouchskin’s fusil filled the woods with its booming echoes; and Bruin, suddenly relaxing his grasp, came bump down among the hunters—missing Pouchskin by about the eighth part of an inch! Lucky for the old grenadier there was even this much of a miss. It was as good as a mile to him. Had the bear’s body descended upon his shoulders, falling from such a height, it would have flattened him out as dead as the bear was himself; and Pouchskin, perceiving the danger from which he had so narrowly escaped, looked as perplexed and miserable as if some great misfortune had actually befallen him!