CHAPTER II THE TERROR OF THE MOUNTAINS
The long trail wound and twisted far ahead, shimmering faintly in the light of the westering sun. Miles and miles of wild bunch grass, sage brush, and desolate sand met the eye, flanked on either side by high mountain ranges.
"Good Lord, what a trail!" muttered Norman Grey, regaining his seat with difficulty as Blackbird plunged her right foot into a concealed gopher hole. "Will this cursed valley never end? It's getting worse all the time."
Almost a week had now passed since he had swung away from Big Glen. Almost a week, and yet how much that brief period of six days contained. What desolate regions he had traversed, what streams forded, and what lonely nights he had spent upon the cold hard ground beneath the starry canopy of heaven. Thrice had he met Indians encamped along the way. Friendly were they, and had provided him with a liberal supply of tender moose meat. A mighty leveller is the northern trail. Here rank, title, creed and race fade into absurd insignificance. Here all useless appendages are swept aside. Here each stands for what he is, and his sole worth lies in himself. And here, too, in a region so vast, where the loneliness mocks and appals, the sight of a human face, though dark and uncouth, thrills the heart with a sweet gladness.
These children of the wandering foot looked with admiration upon the pale-faced stranger. They conversed with him in broken English, and slowly shook their heads when Grey pointed away to the left and mentioned the word "Hishu." As he started to leave the camp an Indian woman, old and scrawny, had laid her long, slim fingers upon the pommel of the saddle and looked up anxiously into his face.
"No, no, Hishu!" she cried, waving her left hand to and fro. "Bad, bad, ugh!"
So impressed was Grey by her earnestness and vehement manner that a foreboding chill smote his heart, and the reins dropped from his hand upon Blackbird's neck.
"Me no savvey. What you mean?" he demanded.
More emphatic now than ever did the unkempt creature become. She tried to explain herself, but her knowledge of the English language was slight, and her words developed into a torrent of unintelligible jargon. Seeing she was making but little impression upon the rider she suddenly seized the bridle with both hands, wheeled Blackbird sharply about, and headed her down the trail toward Big Glen.
"Go, go dat way," she cried. "No come back! No, no, Hishu!"
A slight smile of pity flitted across Grey's face at this woman's peculiar action. The momentary feeling of awe had vanished. He remembered how the Indians in the vicinity of Big Glen feared and shunned the Hishu region. No doubt these were of the same tribe, and believed the wild tales.
Two days had passed since then, and try as he might he could not banish that incident from his mind. It came to him now late this afternoon as Blackbird carefully picked her way among the innumerable gopher holes. The whole region was conducive to deep reflection. Sombre stood the rock-ribbed mountains. Silent throbbed the moistless air. Iron-grey stretched the sunburnt valley. To the lone rider crouched in his saddle the very atmosphere seemed to pulse with undercurrents of mystic forebodings. Hundreds of miles was he from civilisation, thousands of miles from home, a mere speck crawling over an execrable trail. What did it all amount to anyway? he asked himself time and time again. What had he gained during those five years of service in the Force? He was no nearer to her now than ever. What hopes had thrilled his heart when first he had entered upon his world-wide quest. He would find her, oh, yes. The world was large, he knew, but love would make it small. And this was the end—oblivion—merely for the sake of a child.
Presently Blackbird paused with a sharp jerk, causing Grey to look quickly up. The cause was at once apparent, for rammed across the trail was a long ragged ditch about three feet wide and four deep. With widely-extended nostrils and flashing eyes Blackbird had planted her forefeet close to the edge, and stood looking anxiously down into the excavation. On every side and far ahead stretched a chaotic maze of trenches. Some were short and narrow, while others were deep, and rods in length. This Grey knew to be the work of hungry bears in search of fat and toothsome gophers.
"Heavens, what a mess!" he exclaimed, as his eyes scanned the scene. "Grizzlies, I believe! There must be an army of them in this place. I only hope they've had their supper by this time, and will leave us alone. But if they do come they will receive a warm welcome," and he laid his hand upon the smooth dark barrel of his comforting rifle. "They will be flesh and blood, anyway, things I can see, and not those horrible unseen devils which have been torturing me the whole afternoon. Come on, you swine of the mountains!" he cried. "I fear you not. I'll send more fiery demons into your tough hides than the Master did long ago into the whole Gadarean herd." Grey was himself once more. The presence of danger affected him like a tonic. He even laughed at his morbid fears as he reined Blackbird to the left, and soothed her restless mettle with words of encouragement.
Slowly, very slowly the noble animal picked her way between the innumerable pitfalls. She was calm now. The spirit of the master was hers, and all fear was banished. For over an hour they moved steadily forward, and at length gained firmer ground where the earth was not disturbed. The sun was sinking behind a mountain peak as they left the valley and entered upon a deep ravine. The ascent was gradual, and at times the trail hung over high wooded banks. Up and up they moved through dark battalions of pine, spruce and fir. It was a weird place, and Grey breathed a sigh of relief when at length the summit was attained. Here he dismounted, tied Blackbird, and climbed far up into a large tree, towering high above its fellows. From this lofty position he was enabled to obtain an excellent view of the surrounding country. Back to the right he saw the valley over which they had lately painfully travelled, while ahead, and somewhat to the left, a river was to be seen lying like a long silver thread athwart the dusky landscape.
"It must be the Hishu," Grey muttered, as his eyes followed it away northward. "The place I'm bound for is, no doubt, somewhere over there. Should reach it to-morrow, and what then? Oh, well, I'm not going to worry about that now. It will soon be dark, and I must find a good camping spot. Down by the river is a likely place where those trees rise like millions of pointed spears. There should be grass for Blackbird down there on the level."
Leaving his lofty perch he descended the tree, unfastened Blackbird, and sprang into the saddle. Down the hill they slowly moved, the trail—if it could be called a trail—becoming more difficult all the time. At length they reached a hollow through which a little brook gurgled on its way to the river. Grey looked anxiously up and down, hoping to find a reach of wild meadow grass for the horse.
"Guess we'll have to go farther, lady," he remarked. "We must get you some supper, and there's nothing here."
Beyond the brook the trail wound up a steep incline, and curved sharply to the left around a large and almost perpendicular rock. Blackbird ascended the slope with an eager pace, for the tang of the wild meadows down by the river had drifted to her sensitive nostrils. She had just reached the flinty wall when with a terrified snort she threw high her head and reeled back upon her haunches. Instinctively Grey clutched the mane with his right hand to keep from falling and peered keenly forward. The cause of the disturbance was immediately evident, for coming slowly around the bend was a huge grizzly bear. The sudden appearance of the intruders into its domain startled the brute. Its upper lip curled, its teeth gleamed white, and an angry growl sawed the air. Blackbird was nearly frantic now. She quivered with excitement. The froth flew from her champing mouth, and her steel-shod fore hoofs beat sledge hammer blows upon the ground. With the greatest difficulty Grey managed to hold her in check with the left hand, while with the right he unslung his rifle. The bear was nearer now, coming steadily onward, still growling, and causing Blackbird to back farther and farther down the hill. It was not Grey's nature to retreat. He had never done so before the face of man, and he was determined that the first time should not be from a lumbering bear. The creature's insolence nettled him. It made him angry to be checked when he was anxious to reach the river. If it was fight the bear was looking for, it had sought the right spot. Quickly Grey brought the rifle to his shoulder, took aim and fired. The ball struck the bear a glancing blow upon the head. For an instant only the brute paused, and then with a terrific roar hurled itself forward like an avalanche. No longer could human hand control Blackbird's pent-up terror. She reared on high, and swung about with such a sudden jerk that Grey was hurled from the saddle and tossed like a ball among the underbrush. Of his scratches and bruises he thought nothing, for sterner work demanded his immediate attention. He had no time to regain his feet, for the bear was coming, and every instant was precious. Kneeling on the ground he seized the rifle, which had luckily fallen by his side, threw out the empty shell and drove a loaded one into its place. And none too soon, for the bear was almost upon him. Its rage was terrible to behold. Its eyes glowed like living coals, and the hot hissing breath poured from its gaping mouth like hell fire. With lightning rapidity Grey thrust the muzzle of his rifle between those gleaming teeth and fired. A deafening report ensued, and man and beast rolled over in one confused heap. Grey fully expected to feel the slashing rip of lance-like claws, and the sickening crunch of closing teeth. He stretched out his hand for his sheath knife; he would fight to the last; he would leave marks which would be remembered. But the keen blade was not needed; the terror of the mountains had made its final charge, had fought its last fight, and lay there upon the ground a quivering, inert mass—dead. Slowly and with difficulty Grey extricated himself and regained his feet. For a moment he stood and looked upon the fallen brute.
"Close call that," he commented. "Nearly put me out of business, hey, old chap? Good Lord, what claws and teeth! But for that lucky shot they'd've had me torn to ribbons by this time. I'd like to show them to the Major; he's a great eye for such things."
Blackbird was nowhere to be seen; the wilderness had swallowed her up. Suddenly Grey realised his position. Night was shutting down, horse gone, and the region alive with bears. He had settled the account of one, but there were hundreds more, and they might appear at any moment. He could not go back over the trail after the horse; that would be folly. He must reach the river. Picking up his rifle he wiped away the froth and moisture from the barrel and carefully reloaded it.
He was about to leave the place when he paused and looked at the bear lying before him.
"Ah, old chap," he exclaimed. "You've made me lose my grub by frightening Blackbird out of her senses. She's taken my small supply with her, and what shall I do for supper? You look fat and well liking, so I think a piece of your carcass will have to serve instead."
Drawing forth his sheath knife he deftly removed a portion of the skin and cut off a fair sized piece of meat from a part he considered the choicest. Next he sharpened a small stick, and thrust it through the flesh. This done, he threw it over his shoulder, seized the rifle and headed for the river.