“If you will remain here,” continued Boone, “it is quite likely you will have a shot as he makes his final push for the hills.”
“Then here will I remain,” replied Glenn; and fixing himself firmly in the saddle, resolved to await the coming of Bruin, having every confidence in the intimation of his friend. Boone selected a position a few hundred paces distant, with a view of permitting Glenn to have the first fire.
The bear took a wide circuit towards the river, pausing at times until the foremost of the dogs came up, which he could easily manage to keep at bay; but when all of them (and the curs did good service now) surrounded him, he found it necessary to set forward again. When he had run as far as the river, and turned once more towards the hills, his course seemed to be in a direct line with Glenn, and the young man’s heart fluttered with anticipation as he examined his gun, and turned his horse (which had been accustomed to firearms) in a favourable position to give the enemy a salute as he passed. Nearer they came, the dogs pursuing with redoubled fierceness, their blood heated by the exercise, and their most sanguine passions roused by their frequent severe skirmishes with their huge antagonist. As they approached, the strange and simultaneous yelpings of the curs and terriers resembled an embodied roar, amid which the flute-like notes of Ringwood and Jowler could hardly be heard. Glenn could now distinctly hear the bear rushing like a torrent through the bushes, almost directly towards the place where he was posted, and a moment after it emerged from a dense thicket of hazel, and the noble steed, instead of leaping away with affright, threw back his ears and stood firm, until Glenn fired. Bruin uttered a howl, and halting with a fierce growl, raised himself on his haunches, and displaying his array of white teeth, prepared to assail our hero. Glenn proceeded to reload his rifle with as much expedition as was in his power, though not without some tremor, notwithstanding he was mounted on his tall steed, whose nostrils dilated, and eyes flashing fire, indicated that he was willing to take part in the conflict. The bear was preparing for a dreadful encounter, and on the very eve of springing towards his assailant, when the hounds coming up admonished him to flee his more numerous foes, and turning off, he continued his route towards the hills. Glenn perceived that he had not missed his aim by the blood sprinkled on the bushes, and being ready for another fire, galloped after him. Just when he came in sight, Boone’s gun was heard, and Bruin fell, remaining motionless for a moment; but ere Glenn arrived within shooting distance, or Boone could reload, he had risen and again continued his course, as if in defiance of everything that man could do to oppose him.
“Is it possible he still survives!” exclaimed Glenn, joining his companion.
“There is nothing more possible,” replied Boone; “but I saw by his limping that your shot had taken effect.”
“And I saw him fall when you fired,” said Glenn; “but he still runs.”
“And he will run for some time yet,” remarked Boone, “for they are extremely hard to kill, when heated by the pursuit of dogs. But we have done our part, and it now remains for those at the passes to finish the work so well begun.”
Joe’s imagination had several times worked him into a fury, which had as often subsided in disappointment, during the chase below, every particle of which could be distinctly heard from his position. More than once, when a brisk breeze swept up the valley, he was convinced that his enemy was approaching him, and, every nerve quivering with the expectation of the bear coming in view the next instant, he stood a spectacle of eagerness, with perhaps a small portion of apprehension intermingled. At length, from the frequent deceptions the distance practiced upon him, he grew composed by degrees, and resuming his seat on the stone, with his musket lying across his knees, thus gave vent to his thoughts: “What if an Indian were to pounce upon me while I’m sitting here?” Here he paused, and looked carefully round in every direction. “No!” he continued; “if there were any at this time in the neighbourhood, wouldn’t Boone know it? To be sure he would, and here’s my gun—I forgot that. Let them come as soon as they please! I wonder if the bear will come out here? Suppose he does, what’s the danger? Didn’t I grapple with him last night? And couldn’t I jump on Pete and get away from him! But—pshaw! I keep forgetting my gun—I wish he would come, I’d serve him worse than he served me last night! My face feels very sore this morning. There!” he exclaimed, when he heard the fire of Glenn’s gun, and the report that succeeded from Boone’s, “they’ve floored him as dead as a nail, I’ll bet. Hang it! I should like to have had a word or two with him myself, to have told him I hadn’t forgotten his ugly grin. The men must have known I would stand no chance of killing him when they placed me up here. I should like to know what part of the sport I’ve had—ough!” exclaimed he, his hair standing upright, as he beheld the huge bear, panting and bleeding, coming towards him, and not twenty paces distant!
Bruin had eluded the dogs a few minutes by climbing a bending tree at the mouth of the valley, from which he passed to another, and descending again to the earth, proceeded almost exhausted up the ravine. Joe’s eyes grew larger and larger as the monster approached, and when within a few feet of him he uttered a horrible unearthly sound, which attracted the bear, and fearing the fatal aim of man more than the teeth of the dogs, he whirled about, with a determination to fight his way back, in preference to again risking the murderous lead. No sooner was the bear out of sight, and plunging down the dell amid the cries of the dogs, which assailed him on all sides, than Joe bethought him of his gun, and becoming valorous, ran a few steps down the path and fired in the direction of the confused melée. The moment after he discharged his musket, the back part of his head struck the earth, and the gun made two or three end-over-end revolutions up the path behind him. Never, perhaps, was such a rebound from overloading known before. Joe now thought not of the bear, nor looked to see what execution he had done. He thought of his own person, which he found prostrate on the ground. When somewhat recovered from the blow, he rose with his hand pressed to his nose, while the blood ran out between his fingers. “Oh! my goodness!” he exclaimed, seating himself at the root of a pecan tree, and rocking backwards and forwards.
“What’s your gun doing up here?” exclaimed Sneak, coming down the path. Joe made no answer, but continued to rock backwards and forwards most dolefully.