WHEN the sun looked down from over the mountain the next morning it saw an unusual sight. A long, though peaceful, procession of bears, foxes, wolves, and even coyotes, went stringing along a dim trail leading toward the north. A large herd of timid deer, sensing the fact that there must be danger somewhere, or the other animals would not be leaving the country at this season of the year, trailed cautiously in the rear.
Over the foothills and plains and little ravines traveled the procession, headed by Wongo. Through groves of big clean pine trees and over long stretches of sage-covered hills they went, never slackening the speed of their shuffling trot. It seemed to Wongo that it was the longest morning he had ever spent, and he was just wondering if the sun could be standing still, just by way of playing a joke on him, when on rounding a sharp point he saw the big aspen grove a little way ahead. Then he noticed that he was stepping[61] squarely on his shadow as he ran, and he could do that only when the sun was in the middle of the sky.
As they entered the edge of the first group of beautiful white trees, Wongo looked all around for Kaw, but it was evident he had not arrived, as he never waited for Wongo to look for him, as his sharp eyes could see the bear a long way, and he always knew where the bear was long before Wongo knew his crow friend was in the same neighborhood.
Weary with the work of the night before, and the long journey of the morning, the little bear stretched himself out luxuriously on the beautiful yellow carpet of the aspen leaves. He would rest a bit, he thought. He would not sleep—no, sleep was not to be thought of—for Kaw might come along at any moment now, and if he were asleep the crow might not find him. Shielding his eyes from the sun with his paw, he began to think of the experiences of the night before by way of keeping himself awake, but his thoughts wandered into a jumble of Indians with horns, goats on fire, and the squaw-man catching crows with arrows that had wings—a confusion of thoughts that led him into the land of slumber.
How long he slept he did not know, but he suddenly[62] became conscious that someone was speaking to him, or laughing at him, and he sat up with a jerk. On a stump a few feet away sat Kaw, going over his wing feathers with his beak by way of straightening himself up a bit after a long flight. He was mumbling to himself and keeping up, all the while, a low chuckle that occasionally rose to a laugh.
Seeing that Wongo was awake he said, “It is well that you take kindly to sleep, friend Wongo, as it is about the only thing that has ever defeated your curiosity.”
“Oh, I was just resting a bit while I was waiting for you to come,” said Wongo apologetically.
“Just resting!” remarked Kaw dryly. “So I have observed for the past twenty minutes.”
“Have you been on that stump for twenty minutes?” asked Wongo sheepishly.
“Yes,” replied Kaw. “Thought I had better let you sleep for a while. You and that goat must have had a ripping hard run last night. I didn’t find the poor animal until about daybreak this morning. He was dragging himself slowly down the mountain, many miles the other side of the canyon, and was the most forlorn looking beast I have ever looked upon. Although he looked quite thin and dejected, he still had some fire in his eye.[63] When the poor rascal caught sight of me he suddenly changed his limping shuffle into an upstanding walk, and attempted a swagger that was surely funny. I had considerable difficulty in persuading him that I wished to tell him how to get home, for he was going in exactly the wrong direction. After I told him a bit about your experience with him, he was so surprised that I should know of it he listened to reason quite readily. When I finally left him he was still holding to the swagger for my benefit, and as he disappeared in the brush I thought to myself, if he hasn’t been the boss of that sheep corral in the past he will be from now on.”
Wongo did not wish to be impolite enough to interrupt the crow’s recital about the goat, but he was fairly squirming inside with desire to know all about the squaw-man’s hunting trip. Seeing that the crow had finished his account of the goat, he asked:
“Did the squaw-man and the Indians go on their hunt? And did they find my trail? And—”
“One question at a time,” interrupted Kaw. “Now that you have told all of the other bears about our experience of last night, they will be as interested in the outcome as you are. Go call them, and I will tell the story to all of you.”
[64]Wongo lost no time in rounding up the other bears that had come with him, and all seemed eager to hear what had happened during the squaw-man’s hunting trip.
As the bears lined up in a row, Kaw took a commanding position on a low limb of a tree that stood just in front of them and from the half dreamy, half droll expression in his eyes, Wongo could see that his friend had something very interesting and perhaps humorous to relate. Pausing a moment for absolute quiet, Kaw began:
“It was just about daylight when I flew up to the tree near the den of old Grouch. I watched from my lookout for quite a long time and was beginning to get restless when I saw the hunters coming in long, single file. The squaw-man, with his dogs, was in the lead. He was holding the dogs back with thongs that were tied around their necks. The Indian men had rattles and tom-toms, though they made no noise. The boys had clubs and sticks and some had bows and arrows with which to shoot at small game. Far back of the squaw-man came the Navahos. They kept to the trail, and your tracks were very clear, Wongo, for they followed them easily. When they came to the place where you and the goat met old Grouch they stopped for a look. Then they ran back and[65] forth, and they whispered and talked. They looked all around and it was plain they were not sure about your tracks. I suspect the goat tracks confused them, for your trail stopped at the rock and bear tracks seemed ended while goat tracks went on. It got on my nerves when they started to gather about the high point where you jumped over the vine-covered rock, but just about that time the dogs got the scent of old Grouch and in no time the squaw-man caught sight of his den. He told the Indians to go around the den to the rear. He said, ‘When I signal, you start the big noise.’ Then he handed the leather rope that led his dogs to one of the boys.
“Well, soon all the Indians were back of the den, all ready to start at the squaw-man’s signal. Suddenly there broke loose a most unearthly noise. I have never heard anything like it. Talk about giving old Grouch a scare! Well, he was the most frightened animal I ever saw in my life. At first he let out a half-hearted growl, but that soon changed to a sound that was half whine and half yelp! In a terrible panic he started out of the cave and down the trail, lickety-clip, and I thought, now the hunter will use his gun, but he didn’t. He had in his hand what he called a rope. Then I thought, ‘Well, old Grouch, you’ve got a chance[66] to get away.’ One end of the rope was tied fast to a tree and I soon saw what the squaw-man was to do with the other end. He swung that rope around his head, and just what happened next I couldn’t see, for a cloud of dust arose just where the rope and old Grouch met! But when the dust settled enough to see—well!” and Kaw chuckled as he thought of what had occurred, and lapsed into rhyme as the only medium that would do justice to the occasion:
“Well, there was old Grouch, like a cat in a fit;
He thrashed and he tumbled, he scratched and he bit!
But his efforts were vain, the rope held him tight;
Surely never was bear in more comical plight.
Pawing the air, on his hind legs he rose,
But the rope tripped his feet and he lit on his nose.
And then he got up with a look of surprise,
And the fire of his anger blazed up in his eyes.
He growled and he snorted, he kicked up the dirt;
Though he’d had many bumps, ’twas his pride that was hurt.
Well, when he had fought ’till he’d worn himself out,
They tied up his legs with a thong good and stout,
And rolling him onto a thing called a sled,
Down through the bed of the canyon they sped.”
By the time the crow had finished, the bears were laughing until the tears ran down their cheeks. They danced with glee, and rolled over on the ground in fits of mirth, all of which was[67] thoroughly enjoyed by Kaw, who looked down upon them with a comical twist of his head that showed he felt fully satisfied with his adventure and the outcome.
After the noise of laughter had died down, Wongo, who was still curious as to the fate of old Grouch, asked:
“Do you suppose they got the old rascal into the cage thing, all right?”
“Well, I wanted to make sure of that myself,” replied Kaw, “so after I had had my breakfast, and a bath in the pool at the foot of the canyon, I flew out over the foothills to see what was going on. There were the squaw-man’s horses trailing along over the plain with the wagon thing rolling along behind them in a little cloud of dust. As I neared the wagon thing I saw our old friend Grouch, safely inside the cage, and pacing back and forth like a bee-stung bobcat. I could not resist having a bit of fun with the old beggar, so as I came up alongside I called out to him:
“‘Come outside, my old friend! A bear of your age
Should enjoy a walk through the cool, green sage.’
“I had to shout it out pretty loud to be heard above the rumble of the wagon, but he heard it, all right, and the way he looked at me was something[68] to be remembered. He growled and butted his old head against the sides of the cage thing in such a temper I said, ‘Oh, well, if you must be going, I won’t try to detain you any longer.’ Then I called out to him as the wagon rumbled away:
“‘Good-bye, my old friend; a dozen good-byes!
To see you depart brings tears to my eyes!
As onward you go, may your speed never slack,
But let me suggest that you never come back!’”
When the crow had finished the account of his farewell to Grouch, he flew slowly out over the hills, and Wongo was to see him no more until they would meet beyond the Black mountains to visit the cave of Cho-gay, the Indian boy.