There was a good deal of excitement and sport, and more hard work, crowded into the next hour. The old bear proved to be fully as heavy and unmanageable as Don had expected, and it was only by dint of extra exertion that they succeeded in getting her into the boat. The cubs squalled, bit and scratched, and before they were secured, Don, who was foremost in the battle, had, as he expressed it, “a pretty looking pair of hands,” while Bert’s coat was minus one sleeve and a portion of the other. But they had lots of fun in spite of the hard usage they received.
It was a heavy load the stanch little sail-boat had to carry down the bayou, and her gunwales were not more than three inches above the water, but she carried it in safety, and, in due time, was moored to the wharf. One of the negroes was sent to the barn after a span of mules and a wagon, and when he came back the bears were all tumbled into the vehicle, and hauled up to the house. The old bear was left on the grass, near the back porch, so that the general could see her when he came home; and, when the boys’ mother and sisters had taken a good look at the cubs, Jake was sent back to his work in the field, and Don and Bert drove toward the landing, taking Cuff with them. They wanted a strong and faithful ally near at hand, in case the cubs succeeded in freeing themselves from the ropes with which they were confined.
The boys found Mr. Jones sitting in front of his store, and the usual number of loafers were keeping him company. “Here they are!” said Don, as he stopped the wagon at the edge of the sidewalk.
The grocer seemed surprised, but he did not ask any questions. He got up and looked into the wagon, and then he was more surprised than ever. He appeared to be delighted, too. “Hold on a minute,” said he. “Leave them right there until I fix a place for them.”
“How much are they worth?” asked Don.
“Twenty dollars apiece, cash down.”
“Are you going to keep them, Mr. Jones?” asked Bert.
“O, no! I am buying them for a showman, who lives in Memphis.”
Had this incident happened in a city, Don’s wagon would quickly have been surrounded by a crowd of curious people; but the planters about Rochdale had seen so many young bears, that they did not look upon them as objects of interest. The hangers-on got up and took just one look at them, asked the boys a few questions regarding the manner in which their capture had been effected, and then set to work to assist Silas in preparing a box for their reception. The work was soon done; the cubs were transferred to their new quarters, and Don, with forty dollars in his pocket, turned the mules about and drove homeward.
Meanwhile how fared it with Lester and Bob, whom we left in the canebrake comparing notes, and in no amiable frame of mind? Lester seemed to be pretty badly used up by his fall, and it was only after several attempts that he succeeded in regaining his feet; and even then he could not walk, and his companion was obliged to carry him to the boat. But his tongue was lively enough, and he heartily united with Bob in denouncing the boy who had saved his life. They could not make up their minds whom they hated the more—Don Gordon, who had taken the fight out of their hands and killed the bear, or David Evans, who was to receive forty dollars more, to be added to the nice little sum he had received for trapping the quails.