THE sound was like that of a score of bison charging through the undergrowth. The affrighted lads glanced around and saw the grizzly crashing down upon them. Possibly he had awakened to the fancy that they were enemies, and one of them had sought to do him harm. At any rate, here he was!
George and Victor instinctively did what any two persons with loaded guns in their hands will do when assailed by a furious wild beast. They brought their weapons to a level and blazed away straight into his face, but they might as well have sent their bullets against a solid rock for all the good it accomplished in the way of checking the rush of the monster, who emitted his hog-like grunts and swept down upon them like a whirlwind.
Without any thought of the wisdom of what they were doing, the brothers separated, their line of flight being almost at right angles from the beginning. Since it was impossible for the beast to pursue both at the same time, he had to select his victim. His choice fell upon Victor, but it is not to be supposed that he recognized him as the original offender in this business.
The gait of a grizzly bear, or for that matter of any of his species, is awkward when he is running at full speed. He has a grotesque way of doubling and humping his body, which seems fatal to high speed. Nevertheless, he can get forward at an astonishing rate, faster than a man can run at his best. If it should ever fall to your lot to meet a grizzly in his western haunts, don’t fancy you can escape him simply by running. Keep out of his way from the first.
George Shelton ran and tumbled and scrambled over the rough ground for a considerable distance before he glanced behind him. Then he discovered he was not pursued. Panting from his exertions, he halted and began reloading his gun with a haste which made the work doubly as long as it would have lasted on any other occasion. As soon as his weapon was ready he hurried back to the help of his brother, who was having a perilous time indeed. As he ran he called as loud as he could for Deerfoot and Mul-tal-la, for the crisis could not have been more serious.
Less than fifty feet separated Victor Shelton from the grizzly when the race for life opened. For a little way the ground was favorable, and the lad ran fully as fast as when fleeing from the wounded antelope. A glance over his shoulder showed the vast hulk doubling and lumbering along and gaining rapidly. In a straightaway race the fugitive was sure to be overtaken within a few minutes.
Something must be done without an instant’s delay. There was no time to reload his old-fashioned gun, nor could he descry any refuge. A sapling appeared a little to his right, but he dared not resort to that. He believed the bear would jerk it up by the roots to get at him, and he was probably right in his supposition. So he kept on.
The situation was so critical that Victor Shelton did a desperate thing. Throwing away the rifle which impeded his flight, he turned to the left and headed, still on a dead run, for the edge of a cliff. Of the depth of the ravine beyond he had not the faintest idea. It might be a few feet or it might be a hundred. He had no time to find out. Over he must go, and without checking his flight in the least, he dashed to the edge and made the leap.
Providentially the distance was barely a score of feet, and instead of alighting upon a rock almost in his line of flight, he landed on the comparatively soft earth. He was severely shaken, but in his fright he heeded it not. He fell forward on his hands and knees, scrambled up instantly, and was off again. He had dropped into a gorge only a few yards in width, which wound indefinitely to the right and left. There was no way of knowing the better line of flight, and he turned to the right.
He had gone only a few paces when he looked back to see what had become of the grizzly. He had stopped on the margin of the bluff and was looking down at the terrified youngster, who was striving so frantically to get beyond his reach. For a moment Victor believed the brute was about to follow him; but instead of doing that he lumbered, growling and grunting, along the side of the ravine, easily keeping pace with the fugitive, despite the fact that the surface was more broken than in the bottom of the gorge.
Still, so long as the relative positions of the grizzly and fugitive remained the same, no harm could come to the latter. But a change speedily took place.
Victor had not gone far when to his dismay he noticed that the ground over which he was running began to slope upward. If this continued he must soon rise to the level of the bear, who acted as if he saw how the situation favored him. The plum which for the moment was out of his reach must soon pass into his maws.
The fugitive slackened his speed, wondering what he could do. He glanced at the opposite side of the ravine in search of a way of climbing out and thus interposing the chasm between him and his enemy. But the wall was perpendicular and comparatively smooth. If he kept on he would soon be brought face to face with the beast. He must turn back, with no certainty that the same hopeless condition would not confront him in that direction.
Just then a shout fell upon his ear. George Shelton appeared on the edge of the cliff within a hundred feet of the bear. A flash and report followed. He had fired at their terrible enemy and the bullet could not miss; but the grizzly seemed as unaware of it as of the former pin pricks. Giving no heed to the shouts, the report and the slight sting, he saw only the lad below him, upon whom he had centered his wrath.
Victor had halted, glanced up, and was in the act of turning back over his own trail when the brute took advantage of the decreased depth of the gorge, leaped the short distance necessary to land him on the bottom, not more than eight or ten feet below, and tumbling, rolling, grunting, scrambling and flinging the pebbles and dirt in every direction, renewed his direct pursuit of the fugitive, with less distance than before separating them.
All that Victor could do was to run, and if ever a youngster did that it was he. Unquestionably he must have exceeded the pace he showed when fleeing from the wounded antelope. And yet it did not equal that of the grizzly, who lumbered forward like a locomotive running down a panic-stricken dog between the rails.
Suddenly another form dropped lightly into the gorge, landing on his feet a few paces behind the fugitive, who, as he sped past, recognized Deerfoot the Shawanoe. Neither spoke, for it was not necessary. The lad did not slacken his speed, w............