CHAPTER V

A STRANGE BEAR HUNT

"LISTEN!" said Bob, his lips placed as close to the ear of his brother as he could possibly get them.

"I hear him! He is over there, just where you said," replied the younger hunter, the words being whispered so low that they could not have been detected six feet away.

"Get ready then--have your gun up, so he won't see the movement. 'Sh!"

Bob said this because he knew that, with that bright moonlight flooding the opening, there must always be a chance that its rays would glint from the metal barrel of a moving musket. And even such a little thing as this might serve to startle a suspicious bear into making a sudden retreat.

The sounds now became more pronounced than before. Some heavy body was undoubtedly pushing through the underbrush, and in such haste as to be utterly unmindful of what noise was produced.

Of course nothing but a clumsy bear could be guilty of such an advance, caution being thrown to the four winds because of that tantalizing odor of honey in the heavy night air,--an odor which was making Bruin fairly wild with eagerness to be at the anticipated feast.

A panther would have crept slily forward, so that not even the rustle of a leaf might betray its presence, and even a buffalo would have advanced with a certain amount of caution; but a bear depends on its sense of smell to give warning of danger, and seldom moves with any degree of care.

Presently Sandy could hear him sniffling at a great rate as he pushed closer. The animal evidently could not understand why there should be such a pronounced odor of honey in the air. Many times had he come to this same spot in the hope of being able to bag some of the bees' store; but always to meet disappointment. But now there must be a great change in the arrangement of things.

Somewhere amid the foliage covering the bushes across the glade the big beast must have stopped, to look in surprise at the fallen bee tree. Perhaps he suspected a trap of some kind, knowing that his mortal enemy, man, had been there lately. But that distracting smell drowned all his caution. Unable to hold out against it any longer, the bear suddenly lumbered forward.

Sandy saw him coming, but held his fire. In the first place the bear was head on, and he wanted to get a chance at the animal's flank, so that he might make sure to plant his bullet back of the shoulder, where he could reach the heart, and so bring his game down with that one shot. Then again, it chanced that there was something of a shadow, which served to partly hide the beast as he advanced.

Straight into the midst of the broken honeycombs did Bruin hasten, grunting in evident delight as he commenced to lick up the spilled sweet fluid, so dear to the heart of every bear.

Sandy managed to repress his excitement to a great extent. He had been hunting so often, boy though he was, that he no longer experienced the same intense thrill that would have almost overwhelmed him a couple of years ago, had he been thrown into such a position as this.

Slowly his cheek dropped down until it rested against the butt of his faithful old musket. Well did he know that the priming was in the pan, and that, when the flint struck the steel sharply, the spark would communicate to the charge, with the result that the bear must be considerably astonished.

Unfortunately, however, Sandy could not see in that deceptive moonlight that a fair-sized twig happened to be just between the muzzle of his gun and the object at which he aimed. Had it been daytime he would have detected this fact, and avoided taking the chances of his bullet being slightly deflected in its swift passage.

The report of the gun was deafening. With his usual impulsiveness Sandy instantly leaped to his feet, giving a boyish shout as he saw the bear kicking on the ground, in the midst of the branches of the fallen tree.

Then, to his utter astonishment, and not a little to his chagrin as well, the dark, rolling object seemed to scramble once more to its four feet, and, attracted by his movements, immediately started to advance directly toward him, growling in the fiercest possible way.

It could no longer be said that Bruin was making a clumsy and slow advance, for, inspired by a sudden rage toward the object from which his painful wound had evidently sprang, the animal was rushing furiously forward.

Bob fired in the hope of checking this advance, that promised to upset all of their fine plans; but just then Sandy, in jumping back, chanced to jostle his brother, so that, even if the second bullet struck the bear at all, it certainly did no great damage. At least his swift if lumbering advance was not materially checked.

"Run, Sandy!" shouted Bob, as he realized that they were now facing an infuriated and wounded beast, with only their hatchets and knives to use in defence of their lives.

Sandy was not slow to take the advice thus given. He sprang away in one direction, while Bob took the other. Just why the bear should have picked out Sandy to follow, neither of the brothers could ever say, though they really believed the old fellow was keen enough to understand which of the fleeing lads had sent that first stinging pellet that bored under his skin, and made him so uncomfortable.

Bob was dismayed when he found that the animal had ignored him, and was chasing Sandy. With his usual generous way of taking burdens on his shoulders, Bob had really hoped to attract the bear; indeed, with this idea in view, he had even made more noise than was necessary, as he floundered along through the bushes.

When, however, he found that he had not been followed, he immediately changed his tactics. From running away he now started to follow after the bear, and, as he thus pushed through the woods, the boy tried to reload his musket, always a difficult task in those days of the primitive powder-horn, when the charge had to be measured out into the palm, poured into the long barrel, and the bullet in its patch of greased cloth pushed down with the ramrod; after which the priming had to be adjusted.

Bob was not making any particularly good headway in reloading, since he could not stay his hurrying steps long enough to do the right thing.

From the noise ahead he judged that Sandy must have succeeded in drawing himself up into the friendly branches of a tree, and that the furious bear was following close on his heels.

At least this would give the fugitive a little time, and perhaps, meanwhile, he, Bob, could come on the scene with his gun, ready to take a hand in the game.

"Hi! Bob, this way!" Sandy was shouting, at the top of his voice, as though his situation was rapidly becoming desperate.

"All right!" answered the one who was pushing along through the brush as best he could. "I'm coming, Sandy! Hold on a little longer!"

A minute or so later he found himself on the scene. Just as he had guessed, Sandy, being hotly pursued, and fearing lest he be overtaken by the angry beast, had on the spur of the moment clambered hastily into the branches of a tree. It was the result of sudden impulse, for surely the boy knew that an American black bear is always at home wherever he can dig his sharp claws into the bark of a tree.

Perhaps Sandy would never fully realize how he came to escape the animal's last rush; but it must have been almost by a miracle. Once among the branches, the boy did not stop an instant. The bear immediately showed an inclination to follow him aloft, and Sandy hardly cared to try conclusions with Bruin in his present winded condition, and with only his hatchet to depend on.

So he had hastily climbed upward. Looking down, he had been dismayed to see that the bear was making quick progress after him. He could hardly go to the top of the tree, and, as a possibility leaped into his mind, the boy started out on a large limb that was some twenty feet or so above the ground.

Bruin did not hesitate a moment when he reached this limb, but started out after the young hunter. It was at that moment Sandy had sent out his appeal for help. He realized that he was in a bad fix, since the bear would either follow until he could reach his intended victim with his sharp claws; or else the combined weight of the two must break the limb, sending both to the ground.

Bob, having arrived under the tree, was making desperate efforts to finish loading his gun, so that he might bring the little drama to a close. But the bear all the while kept on creeping out closer and closer, balancing his bulk with wonderful skill upon the limb.

Sandy was impulsive in his ways; at the same time that bright mind of his was apt to originate many a clever ruse on the spur of the moment, and when desperation pushed.

Bob, keeping one eye anxiously turned upward while he pushed the bullet hastily into the chamber of his gun, saw his brother suddenly back still further away, so that the limb began to bend downward with his weight. The bear halted, as if loath to make any further forward move, and watching to see what his human adversary might be contemplating.

Suddenly Sandy let go his hold of the outer branches. He had seen that he might break his fall by passing through the foliage just below, and was willing to accept the chances of receiving sundry scratches in consequence.

Bob fairly held his breath as he saw this bold action on the part of his brother. The bear crouched closer to the limb above, as though declining to be shaken from his hold. But, when the danger of this had passed, the beast started to back to the trunk of the tree, intent on reaching the ground again as speedily as possible.

Sandy had come through the lower foliage with a great scramble, very much after the manner of a floundering wildcat that had been shot while perched in a tree.

Bob waited only long enough to assure himself that his brother had reached the ground, even in a sadly dishevelled condition. Then he began to add the necessary priming to his gun, for Bruin was already starting to descend to renew hostilities.

Taking several steps forward, Bob arrived at the base of the big beech with its wide-spreading branches. It was evidently his intention to wait for the coming of the bear, and give him a warm reception.

Bruin, in his ignorance of such things as explosives, since his only adventures up to now had probably been with the arrows of the red men, gave little heed to this suggestive action on the part of the young hunter. He kept backing down with all possible haste, anxious to avenge his injuries upon these human foes.

But, after all, Bob found himself mistaken when he supposed that it was up to him to end the big beast. While the bear was still at least ten feet above him, the musket was suddenly taken forcibly from his hands.

"You promised me, Bob, please remember!" cried Sandy.

With his face bleeding from the scratches he had received in his fall, Sandy must certainly have presented a strange appearance just then; but the spirit of the hunter rose superior to any and all discomforts. That bear was his by rights, and he did not mean to be cheated out of his triumph.

Down came Bruin, looking over his shoulder as he dropped, and probably measuring the capacity of these two foes. But he failed to figure on the terrible power that lay in the odd looking stick one of them pointed up at him.

There was a sudden flash, a stunning report, for Bob in his nervousness had overcharged his gun, and while Sandy fell back with a bruised shoulder, the bear dropped like a stone at the foot of the tree. Sandy had clapped the muzzle of the musket close to the animal's ear when pulling the trigger, so that the result was never in doubt.

"Whew!" he exclaimed, as he scrambled to his feet, still clutching Bob's gun. "Did you empty your powder-horn in that charge, Bob? I'll be black and blue for a month after that recoil. But I got him, didn't I? He'll never have a chance to chase a fellow up a tree again. And, Bob, we're going to have that bear steak all right to-morrow, I reckon."

Which they did, sure enough, though, as Bruin was no youngster, it probably required pretty sharp teeth to enjoy the meal.