CHAPTER XXI

A CALIFORNIA BEAR HUNT

That evening in camp Jack and Donald were full of the exploits of the day--the roping and death of the bear.

"What I can't understand yet," said Donald, "is why that bear died. Vicente said that it died because it was so mad; and certainly we know that it died, and without being hurt, except so far as it was choked before we got it stretched out. Did you ever hear of anything of that kind, Hugh? I suppose you know more about bears than anybody in the camp."

"Well," replied Hugh, "of course, I've seen bears in my time, and seen some of 'em killed, but I don't know anything more about whether they'll die of anger than you do. I expect the only men that can tell you much about that are Vicente here and Joe. I've heard more than once something about grizzly bears dying because they were mad; but I don't know anything about it."

"Come on, Joe," laughed Jack, "we've got to go back to you Californians now for information. California is the only place I ever heard of where they regularly roped grizzlies, and I suppose it's a long time since they did much of that."

"Yes," answered Joe; "it's a long time ago. The big California grizzlies had got to be mighty scarce long before I learned how to throw a rope; but here's Vicente--he's seen it done, for he told me so to-day. And I've heard a man, who did it before I was born, tell a story of what he himself had seen in California in early days."

"Well, I reckon we'll have to squeeze a story or two out of you and Vicente to-night," said Hugh; "but first I'd like to hear what you know, or have heard, about bears dying of anger."

"I know just about as much about it as any of the rest of us here," responded Joe. "It used to be common talk out in California that bears would die of anger; and the one we saw to-day certainly acted that way. At the same time, I don't suppose all bears are alike in their temper or feelings any more than all men are alike."

"I should say not," declared Hugh; "and that's what I've been trying to tell the people for a good many years. Men say that deer, or antelope, or coyotes, or jack-rabbits, always act in a certain way, under certain circumstances; but I don't believe a word of it. There's just as much difference in antelope and coyotes and jack-rabbits as there is in horses and cattle and dogs. Some are fast, others slow; some gentle, others wild; some are cross, others friendly; in other words, all the animals of a certain kind are not exactly alike, and don't all act alike."

"I guess everybody believes that, Hugh," said Powell, "if he stops to think of it, but the trouble with most of us is that we don't stop to think."

"That's sure what's the matter with most of the people in this country," replied Hugh; "they don't stop to think. They've got sense enough, if they'd only think. Well, Joe, tell us your story, the one you heard; or let's hear the one Vicente has to tell."

"I'll give you mine easy enough," said Joe. "It happened just about the time I was born, I suppose in the late '50s, and near a place called San Pascual. It seems that bears had been making trouble killing colts, and the men at the ranch made up their minds that they'd try to get 'em, or some of 'em; and if they got a bear, they'd take it to one of the towns near by and have a bear fight by fastening the bear and a bull together. Just about that time one of the men came in and reported another colt killed, and its mother badly scratched up; so two or three of the men, one of whom was supposed to know everything about bears, went out and looked the ground over to decide what to do. Finally they killed the old crippled mare on a low flat piece of prairie a mile wide and about three miles long and then took her paunch and dragged it, making a circuit of about ten miles, and finally came back to the carcass. They found in the trails the tracks of an old bear and three big cubs, and saw that they were traveling around pretty much all the time. When the men dragged the paunch they crossed a good many of these trails.

"While this was being done, other men went out and drove in the horses, and the best broken ones were picked out for those who were going to ride after the bear. Of course every man looked after his saddle. If any of the latigo strings, or any of the strings of the saddle or the bridle were worn a little, they were taken off and new strings put there. It wouldn't do to have anything break when they were going to try for a bear.

"The next morning early a man was sent out to go to the bait, and to where the paunch had been dragged, so as to learn if the bears had found it. He came back soon, and said it looked as if there had been a thousand bears going over the trail where the paunch had been dragged. He said that they had eaten considerable of the old mare.

"The men who were the leaders--the bear sharps--said the bears would come back that night, and that all hands ought to be within earshot of the bait by moonrise. So by dark all the horses were saddled, and about ten o'clock the head man called the outfit and led 'em down toward the bait. Before they got anywhere near it, they could hear the coyotes yelping on the hills all around the bait, and they knew that the bears were at work. If the bears had not been there the coyotes would be eating and not yelling. When they began to get near the place, they all stopped and tied up the chains and the tinklers on their spurs, so that these wouldn't be heard, and then waited for the moon to rise. After a while the moon came up over the mountains, and then very quietly they jogged along until they got between the bait and the ravine out of which the bears' trail had come the night before. Then, facing around they rode in a line toward the bait.

"The leading man had told 'em that those who couldn't rope--and that meant pretty much all the Americans in the bunch--had better stay behind and either try to catch the cubs, or else to pound 'em with their ropes and try to turn 'em. The leading man, Don Juan, was going to rope the bear, and he was to be supported by two other good ropers, both Californians.

"Well, according to the story, they got quite close to the bait before anything happened, and then an enormous bear stood up and looked at 'em. The man who told me said that she looked to him as tall as a pine tree; but I guess he wasn't used to seeing bears. At all events, even if she did have her cubs with her, she put out across the flat making for a big cañon that was quite a long way off.

"Don Juan and his partners kept after her and before very long caught up and Don Juan put his rope around her neck. But before he knew it she threw it off, and he had to slow down a little to gather his rope. Another man drew up to try to rope her, but the bear gave a snort that scared his horse so that it ran away. Finally the third man got up to her and, roping her with a big loop, caught her around the neck and behind her shoulder, and the rope stayed. She turned and charged on three legs, one of her fore legs being held close to her neck, but she never arrived, for Don Juan came up at that moment and caught both hind feet and in a minute she was handsomely stretched. Garcia, the man who had been on the frightened horse now came up. Taking his macate to hold his horse with, he went up to Don Juan, who in the meantime had ridden up within ten feet of the bear's hind legs, shortening his rope all the time, and so leaving about twenty feet behind the horn of the saddle. He passed this end to Garcia, who was now on foot, and Garcia, passing the end of the rope through the loop that was about the bear's neck and front foot, carried the end back to Don Juan and helped him hold the bear's hind legs, while he took up the slack of the rope that had been passed through the neck loop. When this was done and he got a pull on the rope, the bear's hind feet came close up to its neck, and it was in kind of a ball.

"They'd provided themselves with strings and ropes, and now that the bear was helpless her mouth was tied up, and then the three men, putting their ropes on her, dragged her to a tree, and, after a good deal of work and fussing around, got one hind foot on either side of the tree trunk, and tied the two together on the other side. The bear's hind feet were thus useless to her. She could walk around on her fore feet and dig holes in the ground with 'em, but it was impossible for her to get at the lashing which held her hind feet.

"All the other ropes were then taken off and she was left there for the night.

"Meantime, the cubs had been attacked by the Americans, and after a whole lot of excitement all the three were captured and tied up.

"The next morning they got fresh horses and all went back there and carried a beef hide with them. You heard Vicente say yesterday that if we had a beef hide we could take the bear to camp, didn't you, Jack?"

"Yes; I heard him say that, but I didn't know what he meant."

"Well," said Joe, "you'll know if you'll listen to this story.

"When they got to the bear, Don Juan made a rough measurement of the distance there'd be between the two front feet and the two hind feet of the bear if she was lying stretched out on the ground, and then in the beef hide he cut holes at different points.

"Now strong ropes, wound with sheep skin to keep the ropes from cutting her, were put around the bear's fore feet and hind feet. The beef hide was moved up close to her head, the ropes attached to the fore feet were passed through the holes in the fore part of the beef hide, and the bear was slid forward on to the hide and the ropes drawn tight. Then the ropes on the hind legs were passed through the holes cut at the back end of the beef hide and drawn tight and there lay the old bear, stretched out flat with the beef hide under her and firmly attached to it. They say it made the white men who had just come into the country stare to see the way the Californians handled the ropes and the bear.

"When the bear was fixed there to the hide, another rope was fastened to the head of the beef hide; and then with three men ahead, each with a turn of one of the ropes around his saddle-horn, and two men behind to keep the hide properly stretched, the outfit set out for the ranch.

"The cubs were tied up and packed on horses, and the whole family, except one cub that had died, successfully taken to the house.

"The next day, after they had put another hide under the bear, they hauled her down along the road to the town. They say that they had lots of fun on the way down, for every ox-team and burro train that they met on the road, just as soon as it got a smell of the bear, started from the road and took to the open country.

"There in the town they got a bull and brought the bear into the corral and fastened bull and bear together by a long chain and then turned both animals loose. Of course, it don't seem to have been half fair to the bear, for she had been tied up for a couple of days and must have been fearfully stiff. However, she was ready to fight. But it was pretty short; the bull managed to stick his horns through her after a little bit, and killed her."

Jack drew a long breath.

"Gee, wouldn't I like to have been there!" he exclaimed.

"They certainly were handy with the rope in those days," said Hugh.

"Yes," replied Joe; "they were. Vicente was telling me to-day about his uncle's catching a bear and tying it up all alone. It seemed to me a pretty good story. I don't believe you can understand more than half of it if he tries to tell it in English. Suppose I get him to tell it to me in Spanish, and tell you just what he says."

"Bully!" responded McIntyre; "that'll make it a whole lot plainer."

For a moment Joe and Vicente spoke together in Spanish, and then Joe turned to the others.

"All right," he said; "here goes:

"It seems that Vicente's uncle was riding through some thick willows in a wet place on a ranch in California, when suddenly he felt his horse stagger and heard the sound of a slap. He knew that a bear had hit at him and missed him, and hit the horse, and the horse went flying out of the willows into the open grass with the bear charging at his heels. His uncle slowed down a little and let the bear get pretty close, bending off toward a low, stout willow that grew alone. When he got nearly up to it he dodged a little to one side, stopped his horse, and as the bear passed, roped him by one hind leg and, riding half a dozen times around this willow, drew the bear up close to the tree. Of course, the bear was biting at his hind foot all the time, trying to get rid of the rope. Vicente's uncle tied the end of the rope to an outside limb; then riding up close to the bear in front--of course it was making desperate efforts to get at the man--he threw his hair rope over the bear's neck, fastened it to his saddle-horn and backed his horse off so as to hold the bear. Then the man got off his horse, took off his silk sash, went around behind the bear which was held by the horse, and tied his hind legs together behind the tree. That was all there was to it."

"Gosh, that was enough!" exclaimed Jack Mason. "We don't know anything about what those old fellows used to do with horses and cattle and bears."

"That's so," drawled Vicente. "In those times they often sent out a man alone to kill and butcher a steer and bring it in to camp. Pretty dangerous, all of it; but the vaquero must not be afraid."