The red-wood tree is the main-stay of California. The supply is inexhaustible, but nature has been sufficiently capricious to make them most abundant in very inaccessible spots, whilst the level plains are covered with a short-grained dwarf oak, serviceable only for firewood. But, however steep the mountains, the Californian red-wood has to fall and to be fashioned to the use of man, and when a steam saw-mill gets perched upon a mountain-top the romance of the forest is gone; its silent grandeur no longer awes the mind; and the trees, whose size and beauty caused such deep impressions and such grave reflections, fall into insignificance as you see them torn into planks and packed on waggons, whilst the once still forest resounds to the sound of the axe and the shrill whistle of the steam-engine. I have been very disappointed at finding these sudden changes in revisiting some of my old hunting-grounds.
Thomas now arrived with our stores, which we unpacked with great pleasure, as they had not seen the light since we had boxed them up ourselves in England, and every article was associated with home. We set to work, and in a fortnight had completed a two-roomed house, close to the red-wood clump: we then converted that apartment into a larder and storehouse.
It is not my intention to dwell very much upon the subject of deer-shooting, as, even could I say what has not been said before by mightier hunters than I, the subject has interest for sporting men alone.
I have mentioned in the early part of this chapter, that bears were said to be plentiful in the country I had chosen for my sojourn. The Californian hunter holds the grizzly bear in great respect; and not without reason, when we consider that this animal is difficult to kill, that he is a relentless pursuer when wounded, and that he can run and climb under ordinary circumstances, with more agility than his assailant. On this account, and from the fact that you must, from the nature of his haunts, attack him on foot, a wounded grizzly bear is a worse enemy to encounter than a tiger. March had promised to make up a bear hunt for us, and in a day or two he came over to the farm with two hunters of the name of Sheldon and Carter; both hard-looking fellows, carrying nothing but their rifles, a knife, and a Colt’s revolver, which latter is invaluable in all kinds of hunting.
The Americans carried rifles of their own make; capital make too, though too weak in the lock on account of the cheap price at which they are supplied. The bore of their rifles seemed small for bear-shooting, carrying a half-ounce ball, but they seemed to consider that their skill in shooting counter-balanced this deficiency. I carried the only rifle that I ever used of those I took out, one of German make, carrying a ball of an ounce and a half. I should say here that our rifles were often the subject of discussion with these honest fellows. I had two Rigby’s with an accumulation of sights, which were perfectly useless for my work, although they were beautifully finished weapons; and Barnes’s friendly disputes concerning the relative merits of the American barrel, with its enormous weight of metal and long point-blank range, and the English lock, with its wholesome click, and the American stock, with its carved butt, that gives so much steadiness to the muscles of the body when you aim, resulted in a combination that was highly approved of by all parties; for all these good qualities were amalgamated by the construction of a new stock, and thus a rifle was produced that amongst ourselves enjoyed great celebrity, and this rifle March has probably in his possession to this day.
The German rifle, to which I have alluded, was rather too short, but very true within a hundred yards, and its qualities were expressed by its name, “shoulder-breaker,� engraved on the stock. It is a rare thing to get a good rifle carrying a heavy ball.
We started at once in search of our bear—six in number—and accompanied by a small dog belonging to Sheldon. It was not until the afternoon that we struck upon a fresh bear sign, of which March had had previous knowledge. The sign led into thick underwood in which the bear seeks shade, but which is the worst of all places for killing him. March disposed us in couples; we then spread and entered the thicket at a partially cleared part. Almost immediately I heard a crash, and an angry roar, and then a shot was fired to the left. It was necessary for us to retrace our steps, on account of intervening jungle, to rejoin our party, which done, the bear was in view. I was astonished at his size; standing on his hind-legs with his mouth open like a thirsty dog, and working himself up and down, he indicated that he felt the inconvenience of the pellet that March had intended for his heart, but which had lodged in his alimentary canal. However, in an instant, and as if by a sudden impulse, he again assumed the position of a quadruped and bounded towards March and Sheldon, clearing as much ground at each stride—for he was as big as an ox—as would have done credit to the winner of the Liverpool steeplechase. A shot from the right altered his course again in that direction, for the grizzly bear will turn to the last assailant, and this enforces the necessity of bear-hunters supporting each other.
A momentary uncertainty on his part gave me an opportunity of troubling him with one of my 1½ oz. balls, but this only elicited a grunt and a rush in my direction. I confess that, as soon as my rifle was discharged, I felt great inclination to disregard March’s directions, which were, not to use my revolver, but if possible to reload my rifle directly I had fired, under all circumstances. Whilst in a curious state of uncertainty on this point, though loading, the bear swerved suddenly on one side in chase of the little high-couraged dog that belonged to Sheldon.
This dog had been in other bear-hunts and was generally very useful, for the grizzly has a great suspicion of anything behind him, and if a dog can be trained to worry his hams, the bear will turn round and round and afford much facility to the hunters.
I fancy the dog must have got hurt or lost his pluck, for he now rushed straight to his master, and the bear followed; Sheldon fired as the grizzly approached, but without effect, and the next moment poor Sheldon was down bathed in blood, one blow had carried away the flesh entirely from one side of his face, fracturing his jaw-bone in the most frightful manner.