CHAPTER X.

A BRUTE’S SACRIFICE.

This sudden and unexpected appearance of the wild beast caused Harry to fire without taking the careful aim that he would have done had the case been different; but he made sure that his rifle was pointed straight at the brute, and that the discharged bullet would be certain to enter his body.

And so it did, but missing the head, buried itself in the flesh somewhere along the back, the result being another serious wound and the maddening of the wild animal to such a degree that he became perfectly frantic in his rage.

Forgetting his habitual cunning and treachery, he rose to his feet, giving utterance to a savage growl, and with his head lowered, like a bull when about to use his horns, he advanced directly upon the lad.

The latter had no time to reload, and reading the deadly intent of his foe, he ran round to the opposite side of the fire, so as to interpose it between them. The brute, still glaring and growling, trotted after him.

It would not venture through the fire; but as it was more nimble of foot than the lad, he could gain nothing by this course.

Still, as it seemed to be the only thing that he could do, Harry threw down his gun and snatched up his blanket, and made a dash for liberty. His hope lay in the belief that the brute was so badly injured that he would soon become disabled, and that he would not venture as near the blaze as did his intended victim.

Disappointed in both of these respects, Harry made a hasty grab and caught up one of the burning embers of wood, which, as he walked backward, he whirled about his head as a guard to keep the brute away.

This was a partial success, as all animals naturally have a terror of fire, and the one in question fell back growling and glaring, as if deliberating with himself as to the best method of circumventing this obstacle.

He showed no disposition to give up his scheme, but continued stealing forward inch by inch, as a cat is sometimes seen to do when about to leap upon its prey. Harry halted, expecting, of course, it would do the same. For a moment he thought it had, but, as he fixed his eyes upon it, he observed that it was still advancing, almost imperceptibly, but none the less surely, for all that.

“Confound him!” exclaimed Harry as he became conscious of this insidious movement. “I never heard of such a creature; if he wants a taste of fire, I’ll give it to him.”

The beast was now less than a dozen feet distant, when the boy took a step toward him and then dashed the blazing brand full in his face, muttering, as he did so:

“There! take that, if you want it.”

It was enough to daze and terrify any thing, and the brute, with a howl such as he gave when struck by the first bullet, recoiled on himself, reared on his hind-legs, and pawed madly as if to fight off the torch, which had struck his black head, and then glanced off in the darkness.

This bewilderment lasted but a second or two, when it moved toward the lad more determinedly than ever. The latter had made a snatch at a brand, but in his hurry it had slipped from his hand after he had risen to his feet, and retreated a step or two.

Before he could recover it, the brute was not only nearer to him than that, but had actually interposed between him and the fire!

Thus in a twinkling, as it were, the lad found that he had been totally disarmed—not only deprived of the use of his gun, through the denial of opportunity to reload it, but he was shut off from his _dernier resort_—the chance of using the fire to fight off the determined advance of his enemy.

Harry had now his blanket thrown over his left arm, and his hunting-knife at his waist; but he knew that if he was forced to a hand-to-hand fight with the furious beast, he would be torn to shreds before he could do any execution with his weapon. His case looked exceedingly desperate, for the snarling animal having intruded himself between him and the fire, was too knowing to permit him to recover his place again.

It was useless to attempt to flee, and Harry Northend stood his ground, looking down with a fascinated gaze upon the horrid-looking brute, as creeping along for a foot or two more, it began gathering its paws beneath its body, to make its leap.

With a courage born almost of despair, he saw all this and never stirred, standing like the bird that is charmed by the rattlesnake, that knows it sees certain death, but has neither the power nor the will to escape.

But it was not entirely thus with the lad. He possessed rare courage and pluck, and had decided his own course of action. It was a desperate resort, but it was all that remained to him, and he held his nerves with a will of iron until the critical moment was upon him.

It came with the next breath. There was a sudden quickening of the legs as they were gathered beneath the belly of the animal, and then it made its fearful leap.

For one instant the dark, panther-shaped body was visible in the air, and then, as Harry saw it descending upon him, he gave the blanket a flirt so as to throw it directly over the head of the snarling beast, leaping aside at the same instant, and making another attempt to recover his position by the fire.

He succeeded in doing this, although he fell upon his hands and knees, and before he could scramble to his feet again, the brute had pawed the blanket from his eyes, and glancing around for an instant, discovered where his slippery victim was.

There can be but little doubt of the ultimate result of this strange contest, for every advantage was upon the side of the beast, which gave no evidence of suffering the least exhaustion from the wounds it had received.

But at this critical juncture a third party appeared upon the scene, not in the shape of Old Ruff or an Indian, but in that of another wild brute.

As Harry rose to his feet, torch in hand, and stood confronting his enemy, he heard a growl from his right hand, and concluded that it was all over with him beyond a question, if he was to be called upon to combat two such enemies.

The wounded animal heard the ominous sound, and also turned his head, sending back a defiant growl, as if to warn all outside parties that there was to be no interference here.

The thunderous growl was still rumbling in the throat of the brute when Harry saw a huge dark body pass like an arrow through the air, coming down from the rock over his head, and speeding as straight and truly as if fired from the mouth of a giant columbiad, directly at the defiant beast, which was not given time to prepare for the charge.

The attacking brute landed directly upon the shoulder of the other, and at the same instant the two closed in a deadly, fearful encounter.

With the quickness of lightning the fight assumed the fiercest character, the two wild beasts going at each other with the determination to do or die. Snarling, growling, clawing, scratching, gouging, biting, snapping, tearing and rending, they rolled over and over upon the ground, the hair flying in every direction.

Harry Northend stood transfixed, for the time, by the terrible scene before him. The fight was of that furious nature which showed that it would never terminate until one or both were dead, and that the consummation was sure to take place very speedily.

And reflecting that whichever party was the victor would be certain to turn upon him, the young hunter was too prudent to throw away the opportunity thus providentially placed in his hands, and he hurriedly caught up his rifle and began reloading it, with the intention of taking a position from which he could watch the fight, and when it should terminate, could lodge a bullet in the brain of the victor and leave himself master of the situation.

The act of loading his weapon naturally drew away his attention from the combatants for the time; but when he had placed the percussion upon the tube, he turned his gaze upon the struggling beasts again.

Just then they rolled closer to the fire than they were before, and were consequently brought into closer view, and as the lad withdrew from beyond their reach, and looked down upon them, he saw, with feelings that may be imagined, that the one making the attack was his old friend and acquaintance, “Speckled Beauty.”

One look at his hide, now crimsoned with a deeper dye than the art of the showman could give it, showed this, and the whilom resentment that he had felt for the mishap caused by him, was now turned to gratitude and admiration for the part he was playing in his defense.

“Fight away, my friend!” he exclaimed. “Neither Old Ruff nor I shall ever say or think ill of you again, for you meant well, and but for your coming now, I should have been in your place. Good luck to you, and I will give you what help I can.”

His purpose now was to lodge another bullet in the other beast in such a way as to “lay him out,” and leave Speckled Beauty the master, for it looked as if he had undertaken a job which he was unable to carry through, his foe showing not only the greatest tenacity of life, but also displaying a strength and activity almost incredible.

The mottled bear possessed enormous strength, but in quickness of movement he was far inferior to his foe, whose long, sharp claws, were tearing and pounding at his vitals with blows like the piston-rod of a steam engine; but the Beauty was game, and he stuck to his antagonist to the last, never intending to give up the fight so long as the strength remained to continue it.

Harry held his rifle cocked for several minutes, waiting and unable to get the chance to fire; for the two rolled over so rapidly—first one under and then on top again, that he was fearful he might wound his friend instead of his enemy.

Leaping back and forth around the two dark bodies, now upon one side and then upon the other, and once or twice narrowly escaping being thrown beneath them, with the blood and hair flying all over his clothes—Harry at last saw his chance.

There was a momentary lull in the fight, the bear was under, and the head of the other was in full view. Quick as thought the muzzle of the rifle was thrust into his ear, and the trigger pulled.

The shot told, and the bullet went crashing and tearing through the skull and brain of the beast, who lay motionless for a moment, and then with a spasmodic quiver rolled over upon the ground without a spark of life in his body.

“My poor, brave friend,” said Harry, bending over the grizzly bear, “you have done me a service for which I can never pay you.”

He stooped lower and looked more closely at him. The animal never stirred. A groan of anguish escaped him, and it was his last. Speckled Beauty was as dead as his foe!