Cudjo's Cave

by J. T. Trowbridge

"Your friends are all safe, I believe."

"All?" Penn eagerly asked, his thoughts on the luckless horseman. "None missing?"

"There were three absent when I reached their camp. They had gone on a foraging expedition. I found the rest waiting for them, standing their ground against the fire, which was roaring up towards them at a tremendous rate. Soon the foragers came in. They brought a basket of potatoes and a bag of meal, but no meat. Withers had caught a pig, but it had got away from him before he could kill it, and he lost it in the dark. The others were cursing the rascals who had set the woods afire, but Withers lamented the pig.

"'Gentlemen,' said I, 'you have not much time to mourn either for the woods or the pork. We must take care of ourselves.' And I offered to bring them here. But just then we heard a rushing noise; it sounded like some animal coming up the course of the brook; and the next minute it was amongst us—a big black bear, frightened out of his wits, singed by the fire, and furious."

"Your acquaintance of the gorge, Virginia!" said Penn.

"You will readily believe that such an unexpected supply of fresh meat, sent by Providence within their reach, proved a temptation to the hungry. Withers, in his hurry to make up for the loss of the pig, ran to head the fellow off, and attempted to stop him with his musket after it had missed fire. In an instant the gun was lying on the ground several yards off, and Withers was sprawling. The bear had done the little business for him with a single stroke of his paw; then he passed on, directly over Withers's body, which happened to be in his way, but which he minded no more than as if it had been a bundle of rags. All this time we couldn't fire a shot; there was the risk, you see, of hitting Withers instead of the bear. Even after he was knocked down, he seemed to think he had nothing more formidable than his stray pig to deal with, and tried to catch the bear by the tail as he ran over him."

"So ye lost de bar!" cried Cudjo, greatly excited. "Fool, tink o' cotchin' on him by de tail!"

"Still we couldn't fire, for he was on his legs again in a second, chasing the bear's tail directly before our muzzles," said Pomp, quietly laughing. "But luckily a stick flew up under his feet. Down he went again. That gave two or three of us a chance to send some lead after the beast. He got a wound—we tracked him by his blood on the ground—we could see it plain as day by the glare of light—it led straight towards the fire that was running up through the leaves and thickets on the north. I expected that when he met that he would turn again; but he did not: we were just in time to see him plough through it, and hear him growl and snarl at the flames that maddened him, and which he was foolish enough to stop and fight. Then he went on again. We followed. Nobody minded the scorching. We kept him in sight till he met the fire again—for it was now all around us. This time his heart failed him; he turned back only to meet us and get a handful of bullets in his head. That finished him, and he fell dead."

"Poor brute!" said Mr. Villars; "he found his human enemies more merciless than the fire!"

"That's so," said Pomp, with a smile. "But we had not much time to moralize on the subject then. The fire we had leaped through had become impassable behind us. The men hurried this way and that to find an outlet. They found only the fire—it was on every side of us like a sea—the spot where we were was only an island in the midst of it—that too would soon be covered. The bear was forgotten where he lay; the men grew wild with excitement, as again and again they attempted to break through different parts of the ring that was narrowing upon us, and failed. Brave men they are, but death by fire, you know, is too horrible!"