The Young Alaskans on the Trail by Emerson Hough (the chimp paradox txt) 📖

The bear itself heard them shouting, and, having located the presence of an enemy, now broke cover with a savage roar, limping as best he could in a vain endeavor to get up the slope and to attack his enemies. But again and again the rifles spoke, and an instant later the great bear dropped down and rolled limp at the bottom of the slope, almost back into the bushes from which he had come.

“He’s dead now, all right!” said Alex, even as he held out his hand to restrain his young companions once more from rushing in on their game. “Some one hit him in the head that last time. I’m thinking the hide won’t be good for much, for he must be shot full of holes by now!”

Such indeed proved to be the case. The high-power rifles, fired at close range, with hands excited yet none the less fairly accurate, had done their work in such fashion as might have finished three or four bears instead of one even as large as this one proved to be.

Alex turned once more to note the conduct of his young friends as they gathered at the side of the dead bear. He smiled a little bit grimly. Whereas their faces had lately been flushed and eager, they now were just a little pale, and he saw that they all were disposed to tremble as they stood.

“We’re well out of that,” said he, quietly. “That’s bad as the Parle Pas. Of course the odds were in our favor, but with a bear of this size any man or any party is well out of it when they get him down. But here’s your grizzly, young gentlemen.”

“My, isn’t he a whale!” said Jesse. “There’s plenty of meat, I should think.”

“Yes, we’ve killed him,” said Alex, “but what good is he to us? Grizzlies aren’t good to eat, even when they are feeding on berries, as this one is.”

“Never mind,” said Rob; “this is a pretty good robe, I want to tell you, even if it is only in August. It is finer and closer than our Alaska bears; see how white on the shoulders and face. I believe he’s about as ugly a customer, too, as most of our big Alaska bears, that live on fish.”

“Yes,” said Alex, “he’s what you call a bald-face, and whether there’s any truth in it or not, Injuns always say that these white-faced bears are the most savage. Look at his claws—they’re white too. All of them perfect, however, which shows that he hasn’t been digging among the rocks very much, but has been feeding in low country for quite a while. I suppose Moise would call this bear his cousin, and I doubt if he’d want to help skin him. But that’s what we’ve got to do now, and it’s no easy job either.”

“We’ll all help,” said Rob.

“Well, you’d better go and help by finding some sort of rock for a whetstone,” said Alex, “for I see I have left my file down in camp. There’s nothing in the world takes the edge off the best steel like skinning a big bear—the hide is like sandpaper inside.”

“Here’s something,” said Jesse, picking up a flat stone, “and maybe we can sharpen the knives on it.”

They all fell to work now, each with his own hunting-knife. Alex, of course, did most of the work, first ripping down the tough hide with his big buffalo knife, along each leg and up the middle of the body. Then giving each of the boys a leg, and himself keeping clear of the eager knife blades, they all began the work of skinning off the hide.

“Skin it close,” said Alex, “and don’t leave on much meat. The Injuns never skin a bear hide close, for the women like the fat, it seems, and they do all the scraping in camp. But this hide is so big that I’m not anxious to carry any more weight on it than I have to—I should not wonder if it would weigh seventy-five to a hundred pounds, the best we can do.”

At last, however, they had the great hide free from the carcass, with the footpads and long claws attached, and the scalp all skinned carefully free from the skull at eyes, ears, and nose. Rob insisted on taking the skull also, although Alex demurred.

“We’ll carry it, Alex,” said he. “This is a splendid robe, I’m telling you, fine color, and not worn nearly as badly as I should have expected in the summer-time. We’re going to have a rug made out of it for Uncle Dick’s house, and we want the skull, too. We’ll carry that down the hill.”

“All right,” said Alex; “I’ll have plenty to do with the rest of this old fellow.”

He rolled the green hide into a pack, which he lashed tightly with some thongs, and once more using his belt as a pack-strap, which he rested on the top of his head, he managed to get under the weight of the green hide, and started off at a half trot, following the nearest valley down to the river where their camp was pitched.

Strong as the old hunter was, at times even he was willing enough to set down his pack and rest awhile, and to smoke a pipe. The boys, who were carrying his rifle and also making shifts at carrying the heavy bear skull, themselves were willing enough to join him when he stopped. At last, however, they got to the top of the bank under which their camp was pitched.

“Listen!” said Rob. “There’s some one talking.”

Alex nodded. They stepped up to the top of the bank and looked over.

They saw sitting near the fire three men beside Moise, all of them Indians or half-breeds. They were all of them talking and laughing eagerly, certainly not showing very much of the so-called Indian reserve, at the time the hunters peered over at them. Yet occupied as they were, their senses were always alert. One of them heard a twig snap, and turned his face to the bank.

Alex said nothing, but kicked over the edge of the bank the big rolled hide of the grizzly; after which, silently and with proper dignity, all the hunters, old and young, advanced down the bank and across the beach toward the fire. No one said anything until after the rifles were all lined up against the blanket rolls and the pipes of the men had been filled once more. Moise at length could be dignified no more, and broke out into a loud series of French, English, and Cree terms, all meant to express his delight and approval at the success of the hunt. The three breeds also smiled broadly and nodded approvingly, once in a while saying a word in their own tongue to one another. They did not, however, seem to ask any questions regarding the hunt as yet. Alex spoke a word or so to Moise.

“She’s been my cousin,” said Moise, pointing indifferently to all three of the new-comers. He also pointed to their means of locomotion, a long and risky looking dugout which lay at the beach.

“He’ll gone on up the river,” said Moise, “from Hudson’s Hope.”

“Well, when they go,” said Alex, “I suppose you’ll have to give them something to eat, as you seem to be doing now. Only please don’t part with quite all our