The Cave in the Mountain<br />A Sequel to In the Pecos Country by Edward Sylvester Ellis (crime books to read .txt) 📕

WHIRLING ABOUT HE TOOK QUICK AIM.

The grizzly bear, as found in his native wilds, is killed with extreme difficulty, and the only thing that seemed to affect the monster in the present instance was the flash of the pistol in his eyes. He paused, and, rearing on his hind legs, snorted, snuffed, and pawed his nose as if the bullets were splinters which he was seeking to displace. Then, with an angry growl, he dropped on all fours and resumed his pursuit of the author of his confusion and hurts. The wounds incensed the brute, and he plunged along at a faster rate than before, gaining so rapidly that there could be no doubt as to the result.

Being without any weapon at all, there seemed but one hope for Fred, and that was to reach his mustang in time to mount and avail himself of his speed. For a hundred feet or so he ran down a rapid slope, between the trees and rocks, until he reached the camping site, where he had a run of a couple of hundred yards across a comparatively level plain to reach the point where his animal was awaiting him.

In going down this wooded slope, the smaller size of the boy gave him considerable advantage. Yet, so well did the grizzly succeed that he reached the spot less than twenty feet in his rear, and, heading directly for him, at once proceeded to decrease the distance still further. This placed the question of escape by superior speed upon the part of the lad as among the impossibilities, and it began to look very much as if his race were run.

At this juncture, as if all the fates had combined against him, Fred, while glancing backward over his shoulder, stumbled and fell. He sprang up as hastily as possible, but the loss of ground was irreparable. As he looked back he saw that the colossal beast was so close that it seemed that one sweep of his paw would smite the terrified fugitive from the face of the earth.

It was a critical moment indeed, and the crack of the rifle from the wood, which the pursuer and pursued had just left, was not a breath of time too soon. Aimed by one who knew the vulnerable points of such a creature, and by someone whose skill was unsurpassed, the leaden messenger crashed its way through bone and muscle to the seat of life. The brute, which was ready to fall upon and devour the young fugitive, pitched heavily forward and rolled upon the ground in the throes of death.

Fred did not realize his delivery until he had gone some distance further and looked back and saw the black mass motionless upon the ground. After some hesitation, he then turned and walked distrustfully back to where it lay.

He found the beast stone-dead, a rill of blood from beneath the fore-leg showing where some one’s bullet had done the business. The lad recalled the sound of the gun which had reached his ear.

“That was the best shot for me that Mickey ever made,” he muttered, looking around for his friend.

But he was nowhere to be seen.

“Mickey must always have his fun,” added Fred after failing to detect him. “Instead of coming out at once and letting me know how he came to do it, he fires the lucky shot, and then waits to see how I will act. My gracious! he is a bouncer!”

This last remark was excited by the carcass, which he kicked, and which shook like a mountainous mass of jelly; and as he passed around it he gained a fair idea of the immense proportions of the bear, in whose grasp he would have been as helpless as in that of a royal Bengal tiger.

“Whew! but he came mighty close to me! When I fell down I expected to feel his paws on me before I could get up. In a few seconds more it would have been all up with me.”

Several minutes passed, and nothing was seen of the Irishman, whereupon the lad concluded he might as well go back and gather the wood, which would be needed at the camp-fire.

“I wonder if there’s any more of them,” he muttered, as he began picking his way among the rocks. “If there are, why Mickey must look out for me.”

He found the sticks just as he had thrown them down and he proceeded to regather them, keeping a careful watch for another dangerous visitor. All remained quiet, however, and, making his way down the wooded slope into the open area, he looked back and found that he was still alone. So it continued until he returned to where the two mustangs were tethered. There he carefully adjusted the sticks and prepared everything, after which he began to feel some impatience at the non-appearance of his friend.

“He must see more fun in that kind of thing than I do. There’s no telling what has become of those six Apaches we left down in the cave. I feel sure that they’ve got above ground again. It won’t take long for them to find their mustangs, or some other horses, and they may be a mile away, and there may be other parties close by. Halloa!”

Fred thought that he had no matches about his person; but he was making a sort of aimless hunt when he found a solitary lucifer at the bottom of his pocket. This he carefully struck against the rock behind him, and in a few minutes the camp-fire was started and burning merrily.

As he sat down to wait he looked toward the point where the Irishman had vanished from sight. There he was, bearing on his shoulders some choice sections of a young antelope he had shot, although Fred recalled that he had not heard the report of his gun, except when the grizzly was shot. As Mickey came along over the same path taken by the boy, he was forced to make a detour around the carcass of the bear. He paused to survey it, his whole manner betraying great astonishment, as if he had never beheld anything of the kind. He walked around the body several times, punched it with his foot, and finally, grasping his twenty pounds of meat in his right hand, approached the camp-fire.

Here he at once began the preparations for broiling it. The antelope had been of goodly size and he had cut out the most luscious portions, so as to avoid carrying back any waste material. He had a great deal more than both could eat, it is true, but it was a commendable custom with the Irishman to lay in a stock against emergencies that were likely to arise.

While thus employed, it would have been impossible for Mickey to hold his tongue.

“Begorrah, but it was queer, was the same, the way I came to cotch this gintleman. I hunted him a little ways, when he made a big jump, and I thought had got a long ways off, but when I came to folly him, I found he had cornered himself among the rocks, where there was no show of getting out, except by coming back on me. The minute I showed mesilf, he made a rush for me arms, just as all the purty gals in Tipperary used to do when I came along the street. An antelope can’t do much, but I don’t care about their coming down on me in that style, and so I pulled up and let drive. He was right on me when I pulled trigger, and he made one big jump that carried him clear over my head, and landed him stone dead on the other side.”

“That was a good shot, but not as good as when you brought down the grizzly bear at my heels.”

Mickey O’Rooney was particularly busy just then with his culinary operations, and he stared at the lad with an expression of comical amazement that made the young fellow laugh.

“Begorrah, why don’t ye talk sinse?” added Mickey, impatiently. “I’ve heard Soot Simpson say that if ye only put your shot in the right spot, ye don’t want but one of ’em to trip the biggest grizzly that ever navigated. I was going to obsarve that ye had been mighty lucky to send in your two pistol-shots just where they settled the business, though I s’pose the haythen was so close on ye whin ye fired that ye almost shoved the weapon into his carcass.”

“I shot him, Mickey, before I fairly started to run, but he didn’t mind it any