Rodney was now more exasperated than frightened. The dangers through which he had passed seemed to 53 embolden him, though he knew his plight would indeed be unpleasant should he attempt to shoot bruin and by some cause miss fire. The muskets sold to the Indians were usually of the cheapest quality, and the one he carried certainly appeared to be of that variety. He looked behind. The bear was gaining. Seeing this, the lad resolved on extreme measures. First, he would try the effect of a rock and he picked one up, about as large as his two fists.
Rodney had thrown many stones in his life and most of them had been well aimed. This was no exception and landed fairly on bruin’s snout. The animal stood on the bank not twenty feet distant and he turned a somersault, in his pain and rage, landing in the water with a loud splash.
Young Allison did not stop to laugh, as he felt like doing, but put as much distance between himself and his pursuer as possible. After a time, hearing nothing of bruin, he concluded the old fellow had given up the chase and lay somewhere curled up and nursing his sore snout. Now that the excitement was past the boy began to be sensible of his fatigue. Nature was asserting herself and he must eat and sleep.
Just at dawn he noted a clear space among large trees on a knoll a little way from the brook, which now had grown to a considerable creek. He reconnoitred and, finding no trace of an enemy, built a fire. While broiling a piece of the venison it occurred to him that he should husband what was left of the meat as it might be a long time before he could find venison, 54 killed and dressed by Indians, awaiting him along the route. Accordingly, after eating a hearty breakfast, he cut crotched sticks and drove them into the ground on either side of the fire and placed green poles across, over the fire. By hanging the meat on these he planned to smoke and dry what remained, after cutting it into strips. Rodney seemed to forget about both Indians and the bear and was whistling softly as he worked when a noise behind him caused him to turn.
Not over fifteen feet away was the bear! He smelled the cooking meat and evidently was in an ugly mood. Scarcely thinking what he did, the boy, snatching a brand from the fire, threw it full in the face of the brute and sprang for his rifle. The firebrand only seemed to infuriate the animal and he charged. Hastily Rodney fired.
A growl of rage and pain followed the report, and through the clearing smoke the boy saw the bear biting at the wound in his side. Round and round bruin whirled until he caught a glimpse of his assailant, when he rushed forward. As in a haze the boy saw the huge bulk almost upon him, the little fiery eyes gleaming like coals of fire, the open jaws flecked with bloody froth. The boy clubbed his rifle with no thought of running. The bear rose on his hind legs. One blow from his powerful paw, and all would be over. Rodney struck, shattering the stock of the gun, and sprang aside. He now was helpless!
The bear, full of fight, struck, his claws ripping the boy’s sleeve. Crack! A well-aimed shot from behind 55 brought bruin down with scarcely a struggle and the huge bulk lay stretched at Rodney’s feet.
A child’s scream of delight followed the shot. A white boy of about ten years, accompanied by an Indian, came out of the thick woods, the little fellow crying, “He’s mine. I want him, Caughnega.”
To this pleading the Indian paid no heed. Confronting Rodney he demanded, with a sweep of his arm: “Pale face no hunt; Indian country.”
Rodney, by this time, was in a somewhat hysterical condition. The idea that he was there for the pleasure or profit of hunting bears struck him as so ludicrous that he laughed loudly, a performance that evidently puzzled the redskin not a little.