Tank told about Horace havin’ borrowed ol’ Cast Steel’s forty-five-seventy, and that he had learned to hit a mark with it in able shape. Before we turned in that night, I had let Horace tease me into takin’ him over to Pierre’s next day.
We reached the old cabin next afternoon, and found it lookin’ purty comfortable. Eugene had soiled his hands and what part of his face showed; and he certainly did look outlandish. He could act some, I’ll say that for him; and he pertended so natural that it took Tank a half hour to tell who he was. He didn’t talk much, but when he did he used broken French, and he made a contract with Horace to get the five hundred as soon as he had showed him the bear, Tank to hold the check.
Eugene couldn’t get food through his whiskers; so he said most of his teeth were gone, and et his supper in private. After supper, I stole down the gulch and found Spider waitin’. He promised to be on hand the next mornin’ and we turned in early.
Next mornin’ we started at three, and took up our place at the mark I had made across from Sholte’s Knoll. Horace thought it perfectly wonderful that the old trapper would know exactly where a grizzly bear would be at sun-up; and he chattered constant in a hushed voice. We told him it was a full quarter across to the knoll, and he had a regular ecstasy about how deceivin’ the atmosphere was—which was rank libel, the atmosphere bein’ about the least deceivin’ member o’ that party.
Presently, I caught the smell o’ dawn, and I told Horace to keep his eyes glued on Chimney Peak, a little over twenty miles to the west. He did so, and in about five minutes, a gob o’ rich crimson splashed on it, rippled down the sides, and poured along the foothills at the bottom. Horace gave a gasp. You don’t see such a dawn as that with your eyes alone; you see it with somethin’ inside your bosom; and when I saw the gleam in Horace’s eyes, it made me feel ashamed of what I was up to; but I couldn’t stop just for this; so I nudged Eugene, and that hoary old trapper growled out to Horace to watch the knoll, or he’d miss his chance.
Horace was surprised to see the east still in a black shadow. He started to speak words about it, but just then the sun, lookin’ like an acre of red fire, jumped up from behind Sholte’s Knoll like a sacred jack-rabbit.
The knoll was consid’able higher than us, and just as the sun was half-circle behind it, a gigantic form started to walk across it from south to north. I knew, positive, that this was Columbus the woodchuck; but it was just all I could do to believe it, myself, and Horace thought it was the biggest silver-tip in creation. I didn’t think the woodchuck ran much risk of gettin’ shot; but Horace didn’t lose his nerve a particle. He banged away, Columbus gave a lurch, took a snap at his side, and rolled out o’ sight behind the knoll, as natural as a fried egg.
Horace jumped up and down, hugged himself, slapped us on the back, and almost knocked the aged trapper’s fur off; but if he had, I doubt if he would have noticed it, he was so eager to get to his first bear.
We wound down the path, and he complained about it bein’ so much farther ’n he had expected; but I spoke a few words about the atmosphere, and he was soothed. When we struck Rock River, he was surprised to see how much wider it was than it looked from where he’d shot; but he didn’t falter none about goin’ in; while I purt’ nigh had to twist off the seasoned trapper’s arm before he’d get his feet wet. The water was purty high, and Tank and I had our hands full gettin’ ’em across.
We climbed the trail on the other side to Ivan’s Knoll. This was about a mile south o’ Sholte’s Knoll, and naturally I didn’t expect to find any game on the other side of it; so you can judge my feelin’s when we got around to the other side, and saw that woodchuck’s carcass, lyin’ flat on its back with its front feet folded across a piece o’ paper.