Chapter Sixteen.
An Unlooked-for Enemy.
A thrill of delight sweeps through the heart of the English youth at beholding Crusader in this attitude, as if the horse said, “You see, I’ve not forsaken you.” Satisfaction also to think the animal capable of making its own way, and finding sustenance in those wilds; for should it ever be their fate to escape from that mountain, there might be a hope of horse and master coming together again. But there is fear commingled with these feelings, this causing the eyes of Henry Tresillian to turn with quick glance towards the left, where a small portion of the camp of the Indians is visible outside the flanking battlements of rock; every moment he expects to see issue from it a band of dusky horsemen in start for a new pursuit of his favourite.
Crusader seems to have some anticipation of the same; he stands restlessly, now glancing up the chine, anon at the corralled wagons with hundreds of horses around them. These he regards suspiciously, being the same with which he had already declined to associate; perhaps he may be wondering where are the other horses, his companions of the caravan? Whether or no, he hesitates to approach nearer to the old camping-ground, steadfastly keeping his place. Where he stands he is so nigh his former master that the latter might without any difficulty make himself heard, and at first the English youth had it on the tip of his tongue to call out a friendly greeting, but quick reflection showed him its imprudence. The very worst thing he could do for the horse’s sake. Crusader would be sure to recognise his voice and respond with a neigh, which would awake a chorus of yells in the Coyoteros’ camp, and at once set the savages on the alert.
For the last half-hour or more the black horse had been quiet, and there were several reasons against his being seen. He was upon the opposite, or western edge of the stream, which had a fringing of reeds and bushes, broken in places, but here and there continuous for yards, and behind one of these clumps he had come to a stand; even in bright day, as it now nearly is, he would there be invisible to the occupants of the captured camp.
But if only to water their horses, the Indians will soon be dashing down to the lake, and then all chance of his remaining longer unobserved will be at an end.
With gaze more riveted on the horse than ever, for there is something strange in his behaviour, Henry Tresillian watches him with wondering eyes, his heart audibly pulsating. What if they should again get him in a ring, and this time display more adroitness in hurling their laryettes? Crusader might not be so clever on every occasion.
While thus speculating on the result, a noise reaches the ears of the English youth, as also of others on vidette post, which causes an instant and sudden turning of their eyes in the opposite direction. Many voices, indeed, all loud and all in excited tone. Voices of men, shrieks of women, and cries of terrified children, all coming from one place, their new camp by the spring.
The videttes stay not on their post an instant longer, but forsaking it, rush towards ojo de agua. Sounds inexplicable, mysterious! What can be causing them? The only suggestion attempted is, that the Indians after all may have contrived to ascend the messa by some secret path known only to themselves, and are in the act of attacking from the rear. What other enemy could cause such a scare? Every voice in the miners’ party is seemingly convulsed with affright.
The young Englishman dashes on ahead, tearing through branches, and bounding over trunks of prostrate trees. Vicente, who had brought the watch with him, is close behind, though he has not such stimulus to haste, for amidst the fracas of noises, Henry Tresillian hears a sweet voice calling out his own name in a tone of appeal.
Not till they come to the very edge of the glade do they discover the cause of all these wild demonstrations, though something seen an instant or two earlier leads Vicente to conjecture it. Men, but chiefly boys and girls, standing on the branches of trees high as they can climb, as though there to behold some passing spectacle.
“El orso!—the grizzly!”
“It must be that,” says Vicente, pressing on. And so it proves. As the videttes so mysteriously summoned in see on getting to the nearer end of the glade which surrounds the spring, at its farther one are two gigantic animals, one a quadruped, the other to all appearances a biped. For all, both are four-footed creatures, and the most dangerous to be encountered in all the desert lands of America. So utterly are they regardless of the odds against them that they would advance to the attack of horse or man, even were there twenty of these together, and have been known to come shuffling into a well-appointed camp, and make a grand havoc, ere means may be taken to destroy or eject them.
The Indian tiger or the African lion are not more to be dreaded in their jungles than is the ursus ferox in the districts it specially affects.
Strange that the pair at the inner end of the glade had not yet shown signs of any determination to assail the camp; indeed, they seem to be amusing themselves at the stir their presence has created, or rather as if making amusement for the surprised people. He, upon his hams, for it is the male who has so erected himself, is playing his fore-paws about, as if engaged in an act of prestidigitation; while his mate, at intervals also rearing up, seems to be playing the part of juggler’s assistant, the whole spectacle being comical in the extreme. The tragical part of it had not yet commenced, and for two reasons.
First, that the grizzly bear seldom makes instant attack, appearing to enter on the field of battle more by accident than from any predetermined hostile resolve. Only after shammering about a while, and at intervals uttering a snort till their passions get the better of them, and then woe to man or horse that comes within the hug of their powerful fore-paws! With its enormous curving claws, many inches in length, a grizzly bear has been known to drag the largest ox or horse to the ground, as a terrier would a rabbit.
Henry Tresillian looks only to the two canvas tents to see the señora inside one, her face visible through the opening, while Gertrude is still without by the side of her own father and his. The young girl appears behaving herself more bravely than any of the older people around. She is inspired with fresh courage at the sight of the English youth bounding towards her, gun in hand.
By this time others have got out their guns, and a party led by the mayor-domo is advancing to fire on the bears. The gambusino, hitherto not having observed this party, now sees it, noting its intention. He would frustrate it, and makes the attempt, shouting in loudest voice, “For your lives, don’t draw trigger upon them. They may go without—”
Too late; his after-words were drowned by the report of the steward’s great gun, and the male bear came down on all fours, evidently hit, but as evidently little harmed, his active motions afterwards telling of a wound he no more regarded than the scratch of a pin. It perhaps only tickled him, and his biting at the place might be but to take the itch out. It angered him, though, to the highest pitch, for again rising on his hind legs he swung his head about, snorting continuously, with an occasional scream which bespoke either pain or vengeance.
There was no sign of intention to retreat on the part of either male or female, for they seemed to act in concert and with mutual understanding, this, in the moment after, impelling them to forsake their stationary spot and come rushing on towards the tents and boothes. Showing motion quick enough now, they are soon in their midst, the female instantly after seizing a boy who in fright had fallen from one of the branches directly in front of her, and killing the poor lad by a single stroke of her powerful fore-paw. He is not unavenged: before she has time to seek for a second victim the men with guns gather around her, and regardless of danger, for their blood is now up, go so close that some of their muzzles become buried in her long shaggy fur. Then the cracks of eight or ten guns ring out almost simultaneously, and the she-grizzly comes to ground.
But the male, the more formidable of the two, is still afoot, and where are the eight or ten guns to give him his coup de grace? Only four loaded ones are seen in hand, the majority of the people who have been able to arm themselves, in their haste, not much over a dozen, having instinctively rushed towards the bear that was attacking the lad. But now the other, having passed that spot, is making for one to be defended by the four guns in question, that tent inside which are the Señora Villanueva and her daughter. No need to say that the defenders are Don Estevan, Robert Tresillian, his son Henry, and the gambusino. A formidable defence, nevertheless, since, in addition to their guns, they carry knives and pistols, the last double-loaded.
They have thrown cloaks and other dark cloths over the tents to make them less conspicuous, but the bear seems imbued by a vindictive determination to attack in that very quarter, and straight towards them comes he.
“Let me fire first, señores,” claims Vicente, “and low from my knee my bullets may turn him sideways, and if so, then your chance, pour in your broadside, aim just behind the shoulder, halfway down.”
Saying which the gambusino drops on one knee, bringing his gun to his shoulder not an instant too soon, for the huge monster is now within ten feet of him. The sharp but full report, with a tuft of hair seen starting off the bear’s right neck well back on the shoulder, tells that the animal has been hit there, just as Vicente had intended it, his design being for the others to get flanking shots, which they do, one and all, the bear instantly slewing round as before to bite the wounded spot. This brought his left shoulder to front well spread out, and making the best of marks, into which was simultaneously poured the contents of four barrels with twice as many bullets, hitting so close together as to make an ensanguined irregular disc about the size of a man’s hand. No pistols nor knives were needed, no supplementary weapons of any kind, the bear breathing his last ere the reports of the guns had ceased reverberating along the cliffs.