The Young Alaskans in the Rockies by Emerson Hough (classic books for 12 year olds TXT) 📖

not many,” said he, indifferently. “Sometam bear get scared, not know which way he’s ron—then people say he’s got mad.”

“And didn’t you ever get scared yourself, Leo?” inquired Jesse.

“Too much kill ’um bear long time for me to get scare’,” said Leo, proudly. “Kill ’um more bear pretty soon,” added he, pointing over to the steep country on the other side of the valley.

“Well, I was just thinking,” said Uncle Dick, “we could very likely get more bear. But why? Some one will have to go down to camp and carry this hide, or else take word to the other men to come up and get it. Besides, this isn’t the only bear valley in the country. What do you say, boys? Shall we stay up here, or go back and run on down the river farther?”

The boys were silent for a time. “Now, Uncle Dick,” said John, at last, “no matter where you are, you’re always in a hurry to get somewhere else. It’s pretty hard to climb up into the real bear country even when you get near to it. Now here we are, already up, and we know that this is good bear country. We would only lose time if we hunted up any other country lower down.”

“That’s very well reasoned, John. What do you say, Jesse?”

“Well, I don’t see any good in working the men too hard packing the stuff up from a main camp anywhere else. The devil’s-clubs stick a fellow a good deal. Besides, here we are.”

“And you, Rob?”

Rob looked for a time up at the clouded sky, bright with innumerable stars. “Well,” said he, “it certainly does look as though we were going to have clearer weather. And if so, we will have higher water. I stuck a stick in a bank for a water-mark yesterday, and I’m just wondering how much the river has risen since then.”

“Precisely, and that’s well reasoned, too. You see, I don’t want to take any more chances running these rivers than I have to.”

“How far is it to the Columbia from here, Leo?” inquired Rob.

“Half-day ron—whole day, don’t know. S’pose water all right.”

“Exactly,” rejoined the leader of the party. “We don’t know how long the water will stay all right. Every day we run puts that much behind us. And I want to tell you all that the danger of hunting these grizzlies is nothing at all compared to the risk of running the upper Columbia when the rise is on. I’ve tried both, and I know.”

John protested at this. “Well, Rob has got his bear, but, you see, Jess and I haven’t had a shot yet—though I don’t suppose that is why Rob is willing to go.”

“No, that isn’t the reason,” commented Rob, quietly.

Uncle Dick thought for a time. “Well, I’ll tell you what we’ll do,” said he, at length. “We’ll stay at least one more day and hunt here to-morrow. Then if we don’t have any luck to-morrow we’ll run on down and have a look at the Columbia, and if she isn’t too bad we’ll stop at some good country below—say on Nagel Creek, down the bend.”

“That seems fair,” assented John; and Jesse also said he would vote the same way.

“How about you, Leo?” inquired Uncle Dick.

“Me not ’fraid of any water,” replied the courageous Indian. “I like stay here. Most best grizzlum country of anywhere. Down below too much timber. Plenty black bear, not so much grizzlum. Not many place where you’ll get grizzlum now. This plenty good place.”

“Agreed,” said Uncle Dick. “I think you all reason pretty well, and am convinced that we could spend another day here to good advantage. And now, Rob, since you got your bear, I think I’m going to send you down to camp in the morning for Moise and George. They can carry down the hide and some of the other stuff which will have to go down.”

“All right,” said Rob. “I’m not afraid. The only risky place is on the snow-slide at the side-hill. Then you go right down in the creek-valley and follow that to the camp.”

“Very well. That will leave the other two boys to make a hunt to-morrow, and if they have as good luck as you have had we certainly will have more hides in camp.”

With this arrangement already made, they at length turned to the little tent, where their blankets and the big hide of the bear made some sort of a bed for them.

At an early hour of the morning they had finished their breakfast, and Rob was ready to take the trail back to the camp.

“Well, so-long, Rob,” said John. “We’re going to try to kill as big a bear as you got. You’re not afraid to go back through the woods, are you?”

“Certainly not,” said Rob; “I have my ax, and my compass, and my match box, and a little something to eat, besides my rifle. I might be able to get clear through to the railroad or back to Tête Jaune if I had to. But I’ll not have to. So-long.”

“That’s good boy,” said Leo, approvingly, after Rob left and as they saw his sturdy figure trudging steadily onward toward the shoulder of the mountain.

“They’re all good boys,” replied Uncle Dick. “I’m going to make hunters out of all of’em. And now, just as a part of their education, they’ll all help us to flesh out this bear-hide.”

Jesse, hunting around on the side of the mountain, found a bit of coarse stone which John and he used as a whetstone to sharpen up their knives. They knew well enough that work on the coarse surface of a bear-hide dulls a knife very quickly. It was an hour or two before their leader was satisfied with the preparation of the big hide.

“I wish we had more salt,” said he; “but as it happens Moise has put in a little tin of pepper, and pepper is very good to use around the ears and nose of a fresh bear-hide. The main thing is to flesh the hide carefully, and to skin out all the thick parts around the ears and nose very carefully indeed. Then you dry the hide—not in the bright sunlight, but in the shade—and never let it get near a fire. Some hides get grease-burned from bad fleshing and bad drying. I think this one’ll do all right, though, for we made a pretty good job at scraping it down.”

“Plenty all right now,” said Leo. “Go hunt.”

“Which way next, Leo?” inquired John.

Leo pointed up the valley. “Plenty slide farther up. S’pose we stay here three, four days, get plenty grizzlum. Best tam late in day. Maybe-so get ’um now, maybe-so not. Don’t know.”

“Yes,” said John; “it’s too bad we have to start back to camp in just the best part of the day. But we’ve agreed to do that, so all we can do is to do our best. I suppose bears do sometimes come out before evening?”

“Once in a while,” said Uncle Dick, “a bear will come out on the slide just to look around, as I’ve told you. There are no absolute rules about it. They don’t like the sun any too well, but sometimes there is a heap of snow on a slide, usually near the foot of it, and I’ve seen two or three bears at once come out and lie down on the snow to get cool. Then sometimes they like to go out where they can get a bare rock to scratch themselves against. Besides that, I don’t suppose all the bears get hungry at just the same time, and come out on the slide when they hear a dinner-bell ring. Take it all in all, grizzly-hunting is about as hard to classify as anything you’ll find. It’s one thing that would make a man believe in luck, good or bad. Anyhow, we’ll go and try our luck.”

On their way up the valley they had to wade their little stream once more, but at this hour of the day it was not very wide or deep, although it certainly was very cold.

“Me know one slide,” said Leo, after a time, “very old slide, not steep. Plenty gopher on that slide. Dig in dirt. Grizzlum he like eat gopher. Sometam he come there and dig gopher most all day. Maybe-so ketch ’um grizzlum there.”

“That’s mighty well reasoned, Leo,” said Uncle Dick, approvingly. “You see, boys, why Leo is such a successful grizzly-hunter—he is a good observer, and he knows the habits of animals, and why animals have such or such habits. To be a good hunter you’ve got to be a good student.”

When at last they had reached the upper end of the flat valley in which the many branches of their little creek wandered tricklingly, Leo pulled up alongside a dead log and signified that they would stop there for a time while observing the slides on each side of the valley. From this point they had an excellent view of a great mountain series opening out beyond. And as they were commenting on the beauty of this prospect there came to them one of the experiences of mountains which not very many men have known.

They heard a heavy, rumbling sound, yet faint, like thunder in the distance. Then slowly they saw a spot on one side of the valley, some four or five miles distant, grow misty and white, as though a heavy cloud were forming.

“Look yonder!” exclaimed Uncle Dick. “That’s a snow-slide, boys, and lucky enough we are that we’re not under it. It’s a big one, too.”

They sat silent, listening to the dull voice of the avalanche. The great mass of snow which lay on the steep mountainside had begun to loosen at the rim-rock as the snow melted and began to trickle under the edges. Gradually the surface of the ground, moistened under the snow this way, began to offer less and less hold to the snow which was piled above it. Little by little the upper region of the snow-field began to drop and settle down, growing heavier and heavier on the supporting snow beneath, until finally, under the increasing weight above, it had given way along the whole surface of the mountain, a half-mile or more in extent.

It chanced that at the foot of the slide—that is to say, at the edge of the valley—there was a tall cliff, or rock wall, and over this precipice all the mass of snow now was pouring, driven with such mighty force against this wall of rock at its foot that it broke into fine particles more like mist than snow. In a vast cascade it poured down and out over the valley, making one of the most wonderful spectacles a man could see anywhere in the mountains.

“There are rocks and trees going down in that cloud of snow, very likely,” said Uncle Dick, “but you can’t see them. That’s how Leo gets his bear-hunting country made for him—eh, Leo?”

Leo grinned, but sat watching the snow-slide more indifferently than the others, the work of the great forces of nature being accepted as a matter of course in his philosophy. The others, however, could not repress their wonder. The slide ran for several minutes, sometimes subsiding and then breaking out in full force again, as the vast mass of snow, dammed up by the edge of the rock wall, would from time to time assume such proportions that the snow behind it finally drove it forward over the brink. Thus in successive cascades it ran on, until at last it died away in a faint dribble of thin white. Silence once more reigned in the valley. With their glasses they could now plainly see a vast mass