Fort Desolation: Red Indians and Fur Traders of Rupert's Land

by R. M. Ballantyne

As he walked along the slight track which guided him towards them, he pondered the circumstances in which he then found himself, and, indulging in a habit which he had acquired in his frequent and prolonged periods of solitude, began to mutter his thoughts aloud.

“So, so, Jack, you left your farm because you were tired of solitude, and now you find yourself in the midst of society. Pleasant society, truly!—bullies and geese, without a sympathetic mind to rub against. Humph! a pleasant fix you’ve got into, old fellow.”

Jack was wrong in this to some extent, as he afterwards came to confess to himself, for among his men there were two or three minds worth cultivating, noble and shrewd, and deep, too, though not educated or refined. But at the time of which we write, Jack did not know this. He went on to soliloquise:

“Yes, you’ve got a pretty set to deal with; elements that will cause you enough of trouble before you have done with them. Well, well, don’t give in, old chap. Never say die. If solitude is to be your lot, meet it like a man. Why, they say that solitude of the worst kind is to be found where most people dwell. Has it not been said, that in the great city of London itself a man may be more solitary than in the heart of the wilderness? I’ve read it, but I can’t very well believe it. Yet, there may be something in it. Humph! Well, well, Jack, you’re not a philosopher, so don’t try to go too deep; take it easy, and do the best you can.”

At this point Jack came suddenly in sight of the vats. They stood in the centre of a cleared space in the forest. On the edge of the largest vat was perched an object which induced our hero to throw forward his fowling-piece hastily. It was a black bear, or rather the hind-quarters of a black bear, for the head and one paw and shoulder of the animal were far down in the vat. He was holding firmly to its edge by the hind legs and one fore-leg, while with the other he was straining his utmost to reach the fish.

Jack’s first impulse was to fire, but reflecting that the portion of the bear then in view was not a very vulnerable part, he hesitated, and finally crept behind a tree to consider, feeling confident that whatever should occur he would be pretty sure of getting a favourable opportunity to fire with effect.

Quite unconscious of his danger, bruin continued to reach down into the vat with unwearied determination. His efforts were rewarded with success, for he presently appeared on the edge of the vat with a fine salmon in his embrace. Now was Jack’s opportunity. He raised his piece, but remembering Marteau’s remark about the bear’s difficulty in eating salt salmon, he postponed the fatal shot until he should have studied this point in natural history.

His forbearance met with a reward, for the bear kept him during the next five minutes in such a state of suppressed laughter, that he could not have taken a steady aim to have saved his life. Its sense of smell was evidently gratified, for on leaping to the ground it took a powerful snuff, and then began to devour the salmon with immense gusto. But the first mouthful produced an expression of countenance that could not be misunderstood. It coughed, spluttered, and sneezed, or at least gave vent to something resembling these sounds, and drew back from the fish with a snarl; then it snuffed again. There was no mistaking the smell. It was delicious! Bruin, disbelieving his sense of taste, and displaying unwise faith in his sense of smell, made another attempt. He had tried the head first; with some show of reason he now tried the tail. Faugh! it was worse than the other; “as salt as fire,” as we have heard it sometimes expressed. The spluttering at this point became excessive, and it was clear that the bear was getting angry. Once again, with an amount of perseverance that deserved better fortune, the bear snuffed heartily at the fish, tore it to shreds with his claws, and then tried another mouthful, which it spat out instantly. Displaying all its teeth and gums, it shut its eyes, and, raising its head in the air, fairly howled with disappointment.

Jack now deemed it prudent to bring the scene to a close, so, calming himself as well as he could, he took a steady aim, and, watching his opportunity, fired.

The bear did not fall. It faced round in a moment, and, uttering a fierce growl, very unlike to its previous tones, rushed upon its enemy, who fired his second barrel at the creature’s breast. Whether it was that Jack’s fit of laughter had shaken his nerves so as to render him incapable of taking a good aim, is a matter of uncertainty, but although both shots took effect, the bear was not checked in his career. On it came. Jack had no time to load. He turned to run, when his quick eye observed a branch of a tree over his head within reach. Dropping his gun he bounded upwards and caught it, and, being unusually powerful in the arms, drew himself up and got astride of it just as the bear reached the spot. But bruin was not to be baulked so easily. He was a black bear and a good climber. Finding that he could not at his utmost stretch obtain a nibble at Jack’s toes, he rushed at the trunk of the tree and began to ascend rapidly. Jack at once moved towards the end of the branch, intending to drop to the ground, recover his gun and run for it; but the movement broke the branch off suddenly, and he came down with such a crash, that the bear stopped, looked round, and, seeing his enemy on the ground, began to descend.