The Biography of a Grizzly, Page 3

  Miller dropped his gun and swung lightly into a tree, the only large onenear. Wahb raged in vain against the trunk. He tore off the bark withhis teeth and claws; but Miller was safe beyond his reach. For fullyfour hours the Grizzly watched, then gave it up, and slowly went offinto the bushes till lost to view. Miller watched him from the tree, andafterward waited nearly an hour to be sure that the Bear was gone. Hethen slipped to the ground, got his gun, and set out for camp. But Wahbwas cunning; he had only _seemed_ to go away, and then had sneaked backquietly to watch. As soon as the man was away from the tree, too far toreturn, Wahb dashed after him. In spite of his wounds the Bear couldmove the faster. Within a quarter of a mile--well, Wahb did just whatthe man had sworn to do to him.

  Long afterward his friends found the gun and enough to tell the tale.

  The claim-shanty on the Meteetsee fell to pieces. It never again wasused, for no man cared to enter a country that had but few allurementsto offset its evident curse of ill luck, and where such a terribleGrizzly was always on the war-path.

  III.

  Then they found good gold on the Upper Meteetsee. Miners came in pairsand wandered through the peaks, rooting up the ground and spoiling thelittle streams--grizzly old men mostly, that had lived their lives inthe mountain and were themselves slowly turning into Grizzly Bears;digging and grubbing everywhere, not for good, wholesome roots, but forthat shiny yellow sand that they could not eat; living the lives ofGrizzlies, asking nothing but to be let alone to dig.

  They seemed to understand Grizzly Wahb. The first time they met, Wahbreared up on his hind legs, and the wicked green lightnings began totwinkle in his small eyes. The elder man said to his mate:

  "Let him alone, and he won't bother you."

  "Ain't he an awful size, though?" replied the other, nervously.

  Wahb was about to charge, but something held him back--a something thathad no reference to his senses, that was felt only when they were still;a something that in Bear and Man is wiser than his wisdom, and thatpoints the way at every doubtful fork in the dim and winding trail.

  Of course Wahb did not understand what the men said, but he did feelthat there was something different here. The smell of man and iron wasthere, but not of that maddening kind, and he missed the pungent odorthat even yet brought back the dark days of his cubhood.

  The men did not move, so Wahb rumbled a subterranean growl, dropped downon his four feet, and went on.

  Late the same year Wahb ran across the red-nosed Blackbear. How thatBear did keep on shrinking! Wahb could have hurled him across theGraybull with one tap now.

  But the Blackbear did not mean to let him try. He hustled his fat, podgybody up a tree at a rate that made him puff. Wahb reached up nine feetfrom the ground, and with one rake of his huge claws tore off the barkclear to the shining white wood and down nearly to the ground; and theBlackbear shivered and whimpered with terror as the scraping of thoseawful claws ran up the trunk and up his spine in a way that was horriblysuggestive.

  What was it that the sight of that Blackbear stirred in Wahb? Was itmemories of the Upper Piney, long forgotten; thoughts of a woodland richin food?

  Wahb left him trembling up there as high as he could get, and withoutany very clear purpose swung along the upper benches of the Meteetseedown to the Graybull, around the foot of the Rimrock Mountain; on, tillhours later he found himself in the timber-tangle of the Lower Piney,and among the berries and ants of the old times.

  He had forgotten what a fine land the Piney was: plenty of food, nominers to spoil the streams, no hunters to keep an eye on, and nomosquitos or flies, but plenty of open, sunny glades and shelteringwoods, backed up by high, straight cliffs to turn the colder winds.There were, moreover, no resident Grizzlies, no signs even of passingtravelers, and the Blackbears that were in possession did not count.

  Wahb was well pleased. He rolled his vast bulk in an old Buffalo-wallow,and rearing up against a tree where the Piney Canon quits the GraybullCanon, he left on it his mark fully eight feet from the ground.

  In the days that followed he wandered farther and farther up among therugged spurs of the Shoshones, and took possession as he went. He foundthe signboards of several Blackbears, and if they were small dead treeshe sent them crashing to earth with a drive of his giant paw. If theywere green, he put his own mark over the other mark, and made it clearerby slashing the bark with the great pickaxes that grew on his toes.

  The Upper Piney had so long been a Blackbear range that the Squirrelshad ceased storing their harvest in hollow trees, and were now using thespaces under flat rocks, where the Blackbears could not get at them; soWahb found this a land of plenty: every fourth or fifth rock in the pinewoods was the roof of a Squirrel or Chipmunk granary, and when he turnedit over, if the little owner were there, Wahb did not scruple to flattenhim with his paw and devour him as an agreeable relish to his ownprovisions. And wherever Wahb went he put up his sign-board:

  Trespassers beware!

  It was written on the trees as high up as he could reach, and every onethat came by understood that the scent of it and the hair in it werethose of the great Grizzly Wahb.

  If his Mother had lived to train him, Wahb would have known that a goodrange in spring may be a bad one in summer. Wahb found out by years ofexperience that a total change with the seasons is best. In the earlyspring the Cattle and Elk ranges, with their winter-killed carcasses,offer a bountiful feast. In early summer the best forage is on the warmhill-sides where the quamash and the Indian turnip grow. In latesummer the berry-bushes along the river-flat are laden with fruit, andin autumn the pine woods gave good chances to fatten for the winter. Sohe added to his range each year. He not only cleared out the Blackbearsfrom the Piney and the Meteetsee, but he went over the Divide and killedthat old fellow that had once chased him out of the Warhouse Valley.And, more than that, he held what he had won, for he broke up a campof tenderfeet that were looking for a ranch location on the MiddleMeteetsee; he stampeded their horses, and made general smash of thecamp. And so all the animals, including man, came to know that thewhole range from Frank's Peak to the Shoshone spurs was the properdomain of a king well able to defend it, and the name of that king wasMeteetsee Wahb.

  Any creature whose strength puts him beyond danger of open attack is aptto lose in cunning. Yet Wahb never forgot his early experience with thetraps. He made it a rule never to go near that smell of man and iron,and that was the reason that he never again was caught.

  So he led his lonely life and slouched around on the mountains, throwingboulders about like pebbles, and huge trunks like matchwood, as hesought for his daily food. And every beast of hill and plain soon cameto know and fly in fear of Wahb, the one time hunted, persecuted Cub.And more than one Blackbear paid with his life for the ill-deed of thatother, long ago. And many a cranky Bobcat flying before him took to atree, and if that tree were dead and dry, Wahb heaved it down, and treeand Cat alike were dashed to bits. Even the proud-necked Stallion,leader of the mustang band, thought well for once to yield the road. Thegreat, grey Timberwolves, and the Mountain Lions too, left their newkill and sneaked in sullen fear aside when Wahb appeared. And if, as hehulked across the sage-covered river-flat sending the scared Antelopeskimming like birds before him, he was faced perchance, by some burlyRange-bull, too young to be wise and too big to be afraid, Wahb smashedhis skull with one blow of that giant paw, and served him as theRange-cow would have served himself long years ago.

  The All-mother never fails to offer to her own, twin cups, one gall, andone of balm. Little or much they may drink, but equally of each. Themountain that is easy to descend must soon be climbed again. Thegrinding hardship of Wahb's early days, had built his mighty frame. Allusual pleasures of a grizzly's life had been denied him but _power_bestowed in more than double share. So he lived on year after year,unsoftened by mate or companion, sullen, fearing nothing, ready tofight, but asking only to be let alone--quite alone. He had but onekeen pleasure in his sombre life--the lasting glory in his ma
tchlessstrength--the small but never failing thrill of joy as the foe fellcrushed and limp, or the riven boulders grit and heaved when he turnedon them the measure of his wondrous force.

  IV.

  Everything has a smell of its own for those that have noses to smell.Wahb had been learning smells all his life, and knew the meaning of mostof those in the mountains. It was as though each and every thing had avoice of its own for him; and yet it was far better than a voice, forevery one knows that a good nose is better than eyes and ears together.And each of these myriads of voices kept on crying, "Here and such amI."

  The juniper-berries, the rosehips, the strawberries, each had a soft,sweet little voice, calling, "Here we are--Berries, Berries."

  The great pine woods had a loud, far-reaching voice, "Here are we, thePine-trees," but when he got right up to them Wahb could hear the low,sweet call of the pinon-nuts, "Here are we, the Pinon-nuts."

  And the quamash beds in May sang a perfect chorus when the wind wasright: "Quamash beds, Quamash beds."

  And when he got among them he made out each single voice.

  Each root had its own little piece to say to his nose: "Here am I, abig Quamash, rich and ripe," or a tiny, sharp voice, "Here am I, agood-for-nothing, stringy little root."

  And the broad, rich russulas in the autumn called aloud, "I am a fat,wholesome Mushroom," and the deadly amanita cried, "I am an Amanita.Let me alone, or you'll be a sick Bear." And the fairy harebell of thecanyon-banks sang a song too, as fine as its threadlike stem, and as softas its dainty blue; but the warden of the smells had learned to reportit not, for this, and a million other such, were of no interest to Wahb.

  So every living thing that moved, and every flower that grew, and everyrock and stone and shape on earth told out its tale and sang its littlestory to his nose. Day or night, fog or bright, that great, moist nosetold him most of the things he needed to know, or passed unnoticed thoseof no concern, and he depended on it more and more. If his eyes and earstogether reported so and so, he would not even then believe it until hisnose said, "Yes; that is right."

  But this is something that man cannot understand, for he has sold thebirthright of his nose for the privilege of living in towns.

  While hundreds of smells were agreeable to Wahb, thousands wereindifferent to him, a good many were unpleasant, and some actually puthim in a rage.

  He had often noticed that if a west wind were blowing when he was at thehead of the Piney Canon there was an odd, new scent. Some days he didnot mind, it, and some days it disgusted him; but he never followed itup. On other days a north wind from the high Divide brought a most awfulsmell, something unlike any other, a smell that he wanted only to getaway from.

  Wahb was getting well past his youth now, and he began to have pains inthe hind leg that had been wounded so often. After a cold night or along time of wet weather he could scarcely use that leg, and one day,while thus crippled, the west wind came down the canyon with an oddmessage to his nose. Wahb could not clearly read the message, but itseemed to say, 'Come,' and something within him said, 'Go.' The smellof food will draw a hungry creature and disgust a gorged one. We do notknow why, and all that any one can learn is that the desire springs froma need of the body. So Wahb felt drawn by what had long disgusted him,and he slouched up the mountain path, grumbling to himself and slappingsavagely back at branches that chanced to switch his face.

  The odd odor grew very strong; it led him where he had never beenbefore--up a bank of whitish sand to a bench of the same color, wherethere was unhealthy-looking water running down, and a kind of fog comingout of a hole. Wahb threw up his nose suspiciously--such a peculiarsmell! He climbed the bench.

  A snake wriggled across the sand in front. Wahb crushed it with a blowthat made the near trees shiver and sent a balanced boulder topplingdown, and he growled a growl that rumbled up the valley like distantthunder. Then he came to the foggy hole. It was full of water that movedgently and steamed. Wahb put in his foot, and found it was quite warmand that it felt pleasantly on his skin. He put in both feet, and littleby little went in farther, causing the pool to overflow on allsides, till he was lying at full length in the warm, almost hot,sulphur-spring, and sweltering in the greenish water, while the winddrifted the steam about overhead.

  There are plenty of these sulphur-springs in the Rockies, but thischanced to be the only one on Wahb's range. He lay in it for over anhour; then, feeling that he had had enough, he heaved his huge bulkup on the bank, and realized that he was feeling remarkably well andsupple. The stiffness of his hind leg was gone.

  He shook the water from his shaggy coat. A broad ledge in full sun-heatinvited him to stretch himself out and dry. But first he reared againstthe nearest tree and left a mark that none could mistake. True, therewere plenty of signs of other animals using the sulphur-bath for theirills; but what of it? Thenceforth that tree bore this inscription, ina language of mud, hair, and smell, that every mountain creature couldread:

  My bath. Keep away!

  (Signed) WAHB.

  Wahb lay on his belly till his back was dry, then turned on his broadback and squirmed about in a ponderous way till the broiling sun hadwholly dried him. He realized that he was really feeling very well now.He did not say to himself, "I am troubled with that unpleasant diseasecalled rheumatism, and sulphur-bath treatment is the thing to cure it."But what he did know was, "I have dreadful pains; I feel better whenI am in this stinking pool." So thenceforth he came back whenever thepains began again, and each time he was cured.

  PART III.

  THE WANING

  I.

  Years went by. Wahb grew no bigger,--there was no need for that,--but hegot whiter, crosser, and more dangerous. He really had an enormous rangenow. Each spring, after the winter storms had removed his notice-boards,he went around and renewed them. It was natural to do so, for, first ofall, the scarcity of food compelled him to travel all over the range.There were lots of clay wallows at that season, and the itching of hisskin, as the winter coat began to shed, made the dressing of cool, wetclay very pleasant, and the exquisite pain of a good scratching was oneof the finest pleasures he knew. So, whatever his motive, the result wasthe same: the signs were renewed each spring.

  At length the Palette Ranch outfit appeared on the Lower Piney, and themen got acquainted with the 'ugly old fellow.' The Cowpunchers, whenthey saw him, decided they 'had n't lost any Bears and they had betterkeep out of his way and let him mind his business.'

  They did not often see him, although his tracks and sign-boards wereeverywhere. But the owner of this outfit, a born hunter, took a keeninterest in Wahb. He learned something of the old Bear's history fromColonel Pickett, and found out for himself more than the colonel everknew.

  He learned that Wahb ranged as far south as the Upper Wiggins Fork andnorth to the Stinking Water, and from the Meteetsee to the Shoshones.

  He found that Wahb knew more about Bear-traps than most trappers do;that he either passed them by or tore open the other end of the bait-penand dragged out the bait without going near the trap, and by accident ordesign Wahb sometimes sprang the trap with one of the logs that formedthe pen. This ranch-owner found also that Wahb disappeared from hisrange each year during the heat of the summer, as completely as he dideach winter during his sleep.

  II.

  Many years ago a wise government set aside the head waters of theYellowstone to be a sanctuary of wild life forever. In the limits ofthis great Wonderland the ideal of the Royal Singer was to be realized,and none were to harm or make afraid. No violence was to be offered toany bird or beast, no ax was to be carried into its primitive forests,and the streams were to flow on forever unpolluted by mill or mine. Allthings were to bear witness that such as this was the West before thewhite man came.

  The wild animals quickly found out all this. They soon learned theboundaries of this unfenced Park, and, as every one knows, they show adifferent nature within its sacred limits. They no longer shun theface of man, they neither fear nor attack h
im, and they are even moretolerant of one another in this land of refuge.

  Peace and plenty are the sum of earthly good; so, finding them here,the wild creatures crowd into the Park from the surrounding country innumbers not elsewhere to be seen.

  The Bears are especially numerous about the Fountain Hotel. In thewoods, a quarter of a mile away, is a smooth open place where thesteward of the hotel has all the broken and waste food put out daily forthe Bears, and the man whose work it is has become the Steward of theBears' Banquet. Each day it is spread, and each year there are moreBears to partake of it. It is a common thing now to see a dozen Bearsfeasting there at one time. They are of all kinds--Black, Brown,Cinnamon, Grizzly, Silvertip, Roach-backs, big and small, families andrangers, from all parts of the vast surrounding country. All seem torealize that in the Park no violence is allowed, and the most ferociousof them have here put on a new behavior. Although scores of Bears roamabout this choice resort, and sometimes quarrel among themselves, notone of them has ever yet harmed a man.

  Year after year they have come and gone. The passing travellers seethem. The men of the hotel know many of them well. They know that theyshow up each summer during the short season when the hotel is in use,and that they disappear again, no man knowing whence they come orwhither they go.

  One day the owner of the Palette Ranch came through the Park. During hisstay at the Fountain Hotel, he went to the Bear banquet-hall at highmeal-tide. There were several Blackbears feasting, but they made way fora huge Silvertip Grizzly that came about sundown.