The Plant Hunters: Adventures Among the Himalaya Mountains

by Mayne Reid

Caspar and Ossaroo, ever ready for the chase, immediately seized their weapons; and, crossing the stream, went in search of the animal, which they supposed would turn out to be a deer. Karl, therefore, was left by himself.

Now Karl felt very much jaded. He had worked hard in gathering his seeds, and nuts, and drupes, and berries, and pericarps, and he felt quite done up, and had some thoughts of remaining upon that spot for the night. Before giving up, however, he determined to try a refreshing medicine, which he had brought with him, and in which he had been taught to have great faith. This medicine was nothing more than a bottle of hot peppers pickled in vinegar, which Karl had been told by a friend was one of the finest remedies for fatigue that could be found in the world,—in fact, the sovereign cure,—far excelling rum or brandy, or even the potent spirit of his native land, the kirschen-wasser. A drop or two of it mixed with a cup of water would impart instantaneous relief to the weary traveller, and enable him to continue his journey like a new man. So Karl’s friend had told him, and he was now determined to give the pickled peppers a trial.

Taking the bottle in one hand, and his tin drinking-cup in the other, he descended to the bed of the rivulet to fill the cup with water.

The little stream ran in a deep cut or gully, and its bed was not more than a yard or two in width, but it was nearly empty—so that Karl as soon as he had clambered down the steep sloping bank, found dry footing among the pebbles.

He was just in the act of stooping to fill his cup, when he heard the voices of Caspar and Ossaroo farther up the stream, as if they were in pursuit of some animal. Presently a shot rang through the woods. Of course it was Caspar’s gun, for Caspar was heard shouting in the direction whence the shot came.

Karl had raised himself erect, and was thinking, whether he could give any help to the hunters, by intercepting the animal if it came his way. He heard the voice of Caspar crying to him to “look out,” and just at the moment he did “look out,” and saw coming right down upon him a large animal covered with black shaggy hair, and a white patch upon its breast. At the first glance it had the look of a bear, but Karl noticed a hunch upon its back, which gave it a very peculiar appearance, and rendered him doubtful as to what sort of beast it was. He had no time to examine it very minutely—although it was close enough, for when he first set eyes upon it, it was within six paces of where he stood. It was altogether too close to him, Karl thought; and so far from endeavouring to intercept it, he tried with all his might to get out of its way.

His first impulse was to rush up the bank. He saw that the bear, or whatever it was, was resolved to keep right on; and the only way to avoid an encounter would be to leave the channel free. He therefore made a dash at the bank, and tried to clamber out. The clayey slope, however, chanced to be wet and slippery, and before Karl could reach the top his feet flew from under him, and he came back to the bottom faster than he had gone up.

He now found himself face to face with the bear—for it was a bear—and not six feet separated them from each other. Neither could pass the other in the narrow channel, and Karl knew that by turning down he would soon be overtaken, and perhaps hugged to death. He had no weapon—nothing in his hand but the bottle of red peppers—what could he do?

There was not a moment left for reflection. The bear reared upward with a savage growl, and rushed forward to the attack. He had almost got his claws upon the plant-hunter, when the latter mechanically struck forward with the battle, and, as good luck guided it, hit his assailant fair upon the snout. A loud smash, and the rattling of glass among the pebbles, announced the fate of the bottle, and the red peppers, vinegar, and all, went streaming about the head of the bear.

The brute uttered a scream of terror—such as bears will do when badly frightened—and, wheeling away from the conflict, headed up the sloping bank. He succeeded in his climbing better than Karl had done; for, in the twinkling of an eye, he had reached the top of the slope, and in the twinkling of another eye would have disappeared among the bushes, had not Caspar at this moment arrived upon the ground, and with his second barrel brought him rolling back into the channel.