CHAPTER XXI.

THE BOY AND THE BEAR.

Carl slept little that night. The man who had given his name as Frank Harris occupied the tent with him and the two talked until a very late hour. The boy saw from the first that his inquisitor was trying to obtain all the information in his possession regarding the purpose of the Flying Machine Boys in visiting British Columbia.

It is needless to say that no mention was made of the Colleton case. Carl knew that the fellow was talking round and round the subject, but he did not see fit to swallow the bait and mention the name of the abducted post-office inspector.

Harris talked a great deal about Wall street and the chances for young boys there, and repeatedly suggested that Carl and Jimmie join his office force. The boy understood what this all meant, and did not “fall for the fly,” as Jimmie might have expressed it.

“I’d like to know how I’m ever going to get back to our camp,” Carl said, as Harris mentioned the possibility of his return the next day.

“Why,” Harris replied, in apparent amazement at the remark, “one of your friends will come after you in a flying machine, I suppose!”

“I don’t know whether they will or not!” answered Carl. “You fellows scared Jimmie away so he won’t be likely to return right off.”

“He needn’t have been afraid,” Harris laughed. “We wanted to entertain the two of you, and, besides, some of the fellows wanted to take a look at the machine!”

“And you wanted to know all about the Englishman, too, didn’t you?” chuckled Carl.

“Oh, we’ll capture the Englishman without much trouble,” Harris replied. “As I told you before, we have men out after him.”

“I should think you fellows would be afraid of the smugglers!” Carl suggested. “I’ve heard stories about smugglers being in this country!”

“What kind of smugglers?” asked Harris.

“Whiskey smugglers!”

“Oh, they’re a cheap lot!” declared Harris. “They wouldn’t dare molest a party of gentlemen out on a hunting trip!”

“Had you heard anything about smugglers being here?” asked Carl.

“Certainly not!” was the reply.

Carl chuckled to himself softly in the darkness of the tent. The red and green signals had, of course, informed him that this party of alleged gentlemen was holding communication with some one on the shelf which had been occupied by the smugglers, and also holding communication with the same signals which had been used from the smugglers’ fire.

Naturally the boy was anxious for the safety of Mr. Havens, temporarily unable to defend himself in case of attack, and his chums. When daylight came he moved out of the tent hoping to be able to get away on foot without attracting attention.

In a moment he was undeceived as to this, for a burly fellow who was rebuilding the fire motioned him back to the tent with an oath. The attitude of the guard disclosed the hostility of the whole camp, notwithstanding the insincere conversation of Harris.

After breakfast Harris beckoned to the boy and the two proceeded up the plateau to the steep ascent which led to the summit of the ridge.

There Harris paused and drawing forth a field-glass looked intently in the direction of the shelf at the foot of the gully.

“Friends over there?” asked Carl knowing very well what the man was looking for.

“Why, some of our fellows who went out in search of the Englishman may have brought up over there!” Harris replied in a hesitating way.

“Can you see any of them?” asked the boy.

“I see people moving about on the ledge over there!”

“But you can’t tell who they are?” asked Carl.

“Hardly,” was the reply. “The distance is too great.”

Harris leveled his glass at the distant ledge once more, and seeing him thus occupied the boy crept down the incline to the west of the slope, and disappeared in a narrow and rather dismal-looking opening in the cliff.

At first he passed only a yard or so into what appeared to be a rather deep cavern. He knew that his flight would be instantly discovered and had a curiosity to know which direction the pursuit would take.

Directly he heard Harris calling out:

“Hello, kid!”

Carl crept farther into the crevice.

“There’s no use in your hiding,” Carl heard the man say. “Even if you should get away now, you’d starve to death in the hills!”

Directly Carl heard footsteps scrambling down the slope, and knew that Harris was not many feet away from his hiding-place.

Had he been armed the fellow’s life might have been in danger at that time, but his automatic had been removed as soon as he had been taken to the tent. However, a small pocket electric searchlight had not been discovered when the careless search of his clothing had been made.

Harris came on grumbling and swearing, and the boy thought best to move farther back into the cavern. The chamber into which he made his way grew wider as he advanced. It seemed to be one of the caverns formed by the action of water washing out soft strata of rock.

Looking back he saw the figure of his pursuer darken the entrance, and so stumbled on blindly in the darkness, his hands brushing against one side of the cavern as he advanced.

For all the boy knew there might be breaks in the fairly level floor of the cave. He well knew that subterranean streams often cut through the floors of such caverns. To fall into such a stream meant death, but he dare not expose even the tiny light of his electric, so he kept on in the darkness, feeling his way as best he could.

Directly he heard Harris calling from the entrance, using persuasive language at first, and declaring that the boy would be immediately returned to his own camp if he gave up his mad attempt to make his way back on foot. Carl crouched closer against the wall and remained silent. He knew from the sounds coming from the entrance that Harris was creeping into the cavern. He had just decided to press on farther in spite of the danger when a blood-curdling growl and a rattling of strong claws on rocks came to his ears.

Carl declares to this day that his hair rose so swiftly at the sound of that growl that half of it was pulled out by the roots!

He had no weapon with which to defend himself, and to flash his light into the eyes of the brute would be to betray his presence to his pursuer.

Once possessed of the knowledge of his whereabouts, it would not be necessary for Harris to follow on into the cavern. He would only have to wait at the entrance for the boy to make his way out.

In a moment the boy realized that the bear was passing the spot where he stood. He could hardly believe his senses when he heard the clatter of claws on the floor and saw the black bulk of the animal obstructing the narrow shaft of light creeping in from the slope.

Before long he knew by the exclamations of alarm and the hasty pounding of feet that Harris was making his way out of the cavern. Remembering the long, narrow passage through which he had made his way before coming to the chamber, Carl followed the animal toward the entrance and, as soon as the sound of Harris’ flight had vanished, turned on his light.

The bear was in the narrow passage. His great bulk almost shut out the daylight. He gave a great snarl as Carl approached from behind and turned his head to one side, but the passage was not wide enough for him to turn around. He must either pass out and come in head first or back up to where the subterranean place widened.

For a time the bear seemed undecided as to what he ought to do. He growled fiercely at the boy, but could not reach him. He moved toward the slope occasionally, but always hesitated before pushing his nose into the daylight. From this the boy argued that Harris stood near the entrance, and the bear was afraid to attack him.

Carl took out his pocket-knife and stationed himself at the end of the narrow passage.

“He can’t eat me with his hind legs!” he grinned, “and if he tries to back I’ll give him a few slashes that will send him out into the open.”

The bear tried to back and didn’t like it. He rushed toward the entrance again snarling angrily, but, evidently sensing danger there, drew back once more.

“Drive the brute out, kid!” advised Harris from the outside.

“He’ll bite you if I do!” chuckled Carl.

“No, he won’t; I’ve got a gun ready for him!”

“You go on away,” Carl suggested, “and I’ll come out.”

“The bear will escape if I go too far away.”

“Aw, let him get away if he wants to!”

“And let you get away, too, I suppose?” suggested Harris.

“Why not?” asked Carl.

“Because we want information which we believe to be in your possession!” replied Harris.

“You pumped me dry last night!” insisted the boy.

“Come, hurry up,” advised Harris. “Give the bear a couple of pokes and drive him out! I’ll take care of him, and you, too,” he added under his breath.

The last part of the sentence was not intended to be overheard by the boy, but his quick ears caught the words. He knew that the present situation could not long continue, but was hoping all the time that some one would come to his assistance.

Men from the camp below now began gathering about the entrance to the cavern, and many observations intended to be humorous were passed to and fro as they grouped about.

“Are you coming out?” demanded Harris directly.

“No,” answered Carl.

“Then we’ll come in and get you!”

“The bear’ll bite you if you come in here!” answered Carl.

The men stood talking outside for a long time. The bear did not back up against the boy again, and so received no more wounds. The beast was, however, evidently growing more savage every moment. It seemed to Carl that he must soon rush out of the cavern and attack the men in front.

After a long time a succession of whines came from the rear, and Carl knew that the crisis was at hand. It was plain now that he had entered a bear home which was abundantly supplied with babies.

When the cubs lifted their voices in protest against the absence of their mother, the animal in the narrow passage began to back again. The men outside apparently knew what was taking place, for the opening was darkened by a sturdy figure as the animal pressed back to where Carl stood. The boy hesitated for a long time trying to decide upon the best course to pursue.

He did not relish the idea of wounding the mother bear with his knife, but still less did he like the notion of himself being wounded by the sharp teeth and claws of the animal. He knew that if he could keep the bear in the narrow passage his pursuers could not enter, but at the same time he understood that this situation could not long endure.

“I wonder if the old lady would overlook me long enough to get to her babies if I should let her pass?” mused the boy.

The lad was not called upon to answer that question, for while he hesitated a shout came from the outside, and the man who had been creeping in withdrew, his bulky body giving place to a slant of sunshine.

“They’ve got the machine!” he heard some one saying.

“I don’t believe it!” another voice declared. “If you see a machine it isn’t one of the three belonging to the boys.”

“I don’t know who it belongs to,” the first speaker insisted, “but I know there’s a machine coming this way from the shelf of rock!”

“Perhaps they have captured a machine and they are bringing that blasted Englishman over,” still another voice cut in.

At that moment the desperate bear in the passage charged.