CHAPTER XXIV DAVID GETS HIS BEAR-SKIN

The cache was reached after a half-hour's walk along the pebbly beach, and as provisions were now plentiful once more, the lake trout was served for dinner in bountiful style with applesauce, desiccated potato, and bannocks,—the latter baked in tin plates before an open fire. The remainder of the day and the night were spent at the cache, since all were in need of rest, and some changes would have to be made in the packs before proceeding to Alder Creek.

Not far away two men were encamped with a large outfit. They said they had come in with sleds and had taken claims on the Kah Sha River; but by the time they were ready to continue toward Dawson City, the ice of the lake was too treacherous for heavy sledding, so they had decided to build a boat. This boat was now finished and lay bottom up on the beach.

It was constructed of spruce boards whip-sawn with great labor from dry tree-trunks, and was tightly calked with oakum and putty, but lacked paint because the builders had brought none. They were confident,[202] however, that the craft would prove water-tight and seaworthy. It was to carry one mast, and they were making a sail out of the fly of their tent. It was also provided with seats, rowlocks, and a rudder. By the time the ice broke up, the two voyagers would be ready to begin their cruise of over fifty miles by lake and river, to the point where they must take the trail.

One of the men asked David if he had any map of the region, and David hunted up a railroad folder which contained a map of Alaska. But on examining it in the light of his own experience he found many serious errors. Klukshu Lake, for instance, had been confused with some lake farther to the east, and appeared under the name of Lake Maud. Its outlet, instead of flowing from the south end and emptying into the Alsek just above Dalton's Post, was represented as flowing from the north end and reaching the Alsek thirty miles below. Then instead of lying within four miles of Lake Dasar-dee-ash, as he knew to be the fact, it was placed at least twenty-five miles to the east. Lake Dasar-dee-ash appeared of a decidedly wrong shape, and its outlet was made to flow almost directly west, instead of northward, as it did for many miles. As for all the smaller lakes he had seen, the large stream flowing into Dasar-dee-ash from the east, which they had crossed on the jam of logs, and the[203] Kah Sha River and its tributaries, they were nowhere to be found,—all of which went to show how little was known in the outside world of the region into which they had penetrated.

David therefore drew a rude but reliable map of the trail, to which he added from time to time as his travels warranted.

Toward the middle of the afternoon, when the boys had finished cleaning the rifle and shot-gun, Coffee Jack, who had been roaming through the woods for no apparent purpose, came running breathlessly into camp, shouting, "Beer! beer!" and pointing straight behind him.

"Beer?" said Roly, with a laugh. "What in the world does he mean? There can't be any beer in this neighborhood."

"I'm sure I don't know," said David, much puzzled. "Come here, Coffee. What have you found?"

"Beer!" repeated the Indian boy, excitedly. Then, seeing that he was not understood, he gave a low growl and dropped on all fours.

"Bear!" exclaimed the Bradford boys, in one breath, as they jumped to their feet.

"Yes, beer, beer!" insisted Coffee Jack, unable to improve on his first pronunciation, but delighted to perceive that they understood him at last.

David and Roly were in a flurry at once. They felt[204] that not a moment must be lost or the prey would escape. It is not unlikely they had a vague idea that their elders would veto a bear-hunt if they knew of it; at any rate they did not stop to summon their father and uncle from the beach, but hastily snatched up the guns and some cartridges and set off through the woods, Coffee Jack leading, armed only with a hunting-knife. Lucky was absent, having gone with a load of provisions to Alder Creek.

It must not be supposed that the boys were entirely foolhardy in thus setting off alone. The Indian knew from experience, and the white boys from previous inquiry, that the grizzly, the fiercest of bears, which will attack human beings without provocation, was not known in this part of the country. What Coffee Jack had seen must have been a black bear or a cinnamon, the latter being considered by some authorities as nearly identical with the former. Such a bear, they had heard, always preferred to run away, and was not much to be dreaded unless cornered or wounded. With a rifle and a shot-gun they were sure they could defend themselves effectively.

After forcing their way through thick willow bushes, they came into an open patch of woods, where Coffee Jack motioned that they were to make no noise. They were now in view of a bare spur or ridge jutting out along the lake from the lofty mountains behind. Coffee[205] Jack paused in the shadow of a tree and examined the open ground ahead with extreme care, but seeing no sign of the bear he looked up on the ridge. The others followed his motions, and now at the same instant they all saw a large dark animal and two smaller ones scrambling up the steep slope. The old she-bear was cuffing first one cub, then the other, with her great paws to make them move faster, and butting them along with her head in a comical manner. The boys noticed that one of the cubs was dark brown like the mother, while the other was a cinnamon cub.

Coffee Jack rushed across the open space with David and Roly at his heels, and did not pause until he reached the foot of the slope, from which point the bears were in range of both guns.

"Shoot little beer," said he, breathlessly, "then ol' beer stop."

"You take the cinnamon, Roly," directed David.

"All right," said Roly. "Blaze away."

The two reports rang out together, and as the smoke rose, the boys' faces grew very long. All three bears were still going and apparently untouched. And every moment they were increasing the distance between themselves and their pursuers.

"We must get closer," cried David, as he charged up the hill, followed by the others. "Did you take buckshot cartridges, Roly?"

[206]

Flashes of recollection, enlightenment, and dismay succeeded one another in Roly's face.

"No," he admitted in a doleful tone, "I never thought of it at all in the hurry. I'm afraid I've got nothing but bird-shot." And such proved to be the case.

"Well, then," said David between breaths, as he struggled over rocks and logs, "there's no use in your firing except at the very shortest range, and then only at the cubs. I'm going to try again now."

So saying, he stopped, took careful aim at the brown cub, of which he had a clear view at that instant, and dropped it in its tracks. The old bear thereupon turned to see what was the matter with her offspring, and it was some time before she concluded that the cub could go no farther. Meanwhile the boys had closed up a part of the distance.

"Here, Roly," said David, taking pity on his younger brother, and handing him the rifle, "perhaps you'd like a shot at the cinnamon."

But Roly was not accustomed to the rifle, and though the cinnamon, which had advanced but slowly since the old bear stopped, was not far distant, he only succeeded in breaking its leg. David supplied another cartridge, and at the second shot Roly brought down the game.

The old bear now displayed anger and defiance, and[207] sat up on her haunches with a growl that made the boys look instinctively around for cover. There was none to be had, however,—not a tree or large rock to which they could escape. They had but one effective weapon. Furthermore, they now realized their inexperience as never before, and almost wished themselves well out of the scrape. It was evident that the old bear had made up her mind to defend herself and the cubs to the last extremity. She would be still more dangerous if wounded.

All this passed in an instant through David's mind. As the oldest of the three, he felt responsible for the safety of his companions. The battle could not now be avoided. He had no doubt that to retreat would only bring the enemy upon them at once. In spite of himself, he trembled with the excitement and danger of the situation. However, his mind was quickly made up. He remembered a little friend back in Seattle to whom he had promised a bear-skin. It had seemed easy enough to make the promise. To fulfil it, now that he was facing the bear, did not seem quite so simple. But he was no coward.

"Roly," said he, quickly, as he took the rifle, "you and Coffee Jack go back. You can't help me. Shout as soon as you reach the woods, and I'll take care of the bear."

"Not much!" declared Roly, promptly and decisively.[208] He had also been considering the situation, was likewise trembling with nervous excitement, but had resolved that, come what would, he would stand by his brother.

David looked at the lad's sturdy figure and saw in his face, usually so round and smiling, a look of resoluteness which he could not but admire.

"You're the right stuff," said he, quietly. "Here goes."

He raised the rifle to his shoulder just as the bear sat up again, and aimed at her breast. Unfortunately in his excitement he jerked the rifle when he pulled the trigger. The ball just grazed the bear's side.

With an angry growl of pain the great beast came down upon all fours and charged the little group.

"Kneel, Dave!" cried Roly. "It'll steady you."

David dropped on one knee as the bear came on, while Coffee Jack clutched his knife convulsively.

"Bang!" went the rifle the next instant. Through the smoke they saw the bear plunge to the earth within a dozen yards of them with a bullet through her head. The battle was won.

"Well, well, what's all this?" they heard shouted in Mr. Bradford's voice from the foot of the hill. Presently he and Uncle Will appeared breathless upon the scene.

"You can see for yourself, sir," said David, pointing to the fallen game.

[209]

"A bear and two cubs, as I'm alive!" exclaimed Uncle Will. "You've done a good piece of work, boys."

"At close quarters, too!" observed Mr. Bradford. "They must have stood their ground like Spartans." And nothing would do, after the game was skinned and the supper of tender bear-cub meat eaten that evening, but the boys must tell, to the least detail, how the bears were killed.

"All I have to say," said Uncle Will, as he re-lighted his pipe when they had finished, "is that you deserve great credit for pluck, but very little for prudence. Next time, my lads, just let us know when you start out after bears."