TREED BY A GRIZZLY.

The bear was one of the largest of his kind, but it was not so much his size that impressed me with fear, as the knowledge of his fierce nature. It is true, that personally I knew but little of the habits of the animal, although this was not my first introduction to “old Ephraim,” but from the tales of the Indians, I had learned enough to cause me to feel certain that I was in deadly peril. When my eyes first rested on the monster, he had just emerged from the thicket at the same point at which Wakometkla had entered it. On reaching the open ground he advanced a pace or two, and then halting, reared himself up and stood upon his hind legs, at the same time uttering a sound which resembled the “blowing” of hogs when suddenly startled in the forest. He remained in this upright attitude for some moments, rubbing his head with his fore paws and playing them about like a monkey; in fact, as he stood facing me, he looked not unlike a gigantic ape. He was of a yellowish red color, with legs and feet nearly black, but color is no characteristic among these animals, scarce two of them being alike in this particular.

To say that I was not terrified by the arrival of this unwelcome intruder, would be to state an untruth. I was frightened, horribly frightened, and with good reason. To suppose that he would not attack me would have been absurd; I knew that in nine cases out of ten, the grizzly bear is the assailant; that no animal in America will willingly engage in combat with him, and that man himself shuns the encounter, unless well mounted, and even then, the prudent hunter always gives “old Ephraim,” as the “mountain men” call him, a “wide berth,” and rides on without interfering with him, unless the ground is perfectly open, so that his horse is not likely to be impeded.

The white hunter considers the killing of a grizzly bear a feat of prowess equal to the destruction of two Indians; while to the Indian, the destruction of one of these animals is one of the greatest feats in his life’s history. Among Indian braves, a necklace of bear’s claws is a badge of honor, since they can only be worn by a man who has himself slain the animals from which they have been taken. On the contrary, the grizzly bear fears no antagonist; he attacks the largest animals on sight. The moose, the elk, the buffalo, or wild horse, if caught is instantly killed. A blow from his paw will lay open the flesh as if gashed with an axe, and he can drag the body of a full grown buffalo, to almost any distance. He rushes upon man without the slightest hesitation, and frequently a dozen hunters will retreat at his approach. Nearly twenty bullets have on some occasions been fired into the body of a grizzly, without killing him, and only a shot through the brain or heart is certainly mortal.

With such sanguinary fierceness of disposition and extraordinary tenacity of life, it is no wonder the grizzly bear is a creature to be dreaded. Had he the swiftness of the lion or tiger, his haunts would be inapproachable by man, and he would be a far more terrible assailant than either. Fortunately, however, he is slow compared with the horse, although he can easily outrun a man, and there is another peculiarity about him, which detracts somewhat from the danger of an encounter with this savage beast, he is not a tree climber, and many a life has been saved by this circumstance; for although he does not affect the forest, there is usually some timber in the vicinity of his haunts, and in many instances his intended victim has saved himself by taking refuge in a tree.

Knowing well, by hearsay, all these facts, you can easily imagine my feelings, at finding myself face to face with one of these fierce animals, alone and without weapons, save my bow and arrows and knife. It is true, there was abundance of timber near at hand, but unfortunately the bear was decidedly nearer to me than any tree of sufficient size to promise a safe refuge. On lying down, I had, without thought, placed myself in the very center of the clearing, and I found myself at least one hundred yards from any of the larger trees; the bear had approached before halting, to within about eighty yards, and stood watching me, apparently surprised at our rencontre. Without doubt he would overtake me before I could reach and ascend a tree, and I was fairly bewildered by the utter helplessness of my situation.

These reflections occupy many minutes of your time to read; I thought them in as many seconds. Indeed, I had not time to form a plan of either defense or escape, when my antagonist, evidently concluding that I was fair game, dropped upon all fours, uttered a loud roar and rushed upon me with open mouth; simultaneously, I turned and fled with all my speed.

Before I had covered half the distance that separated me from the tree towards which I had directed my flight, he was almost at my heels, and I had about determined to stop and engage in the desperate conflict that seemed inevitable, when his attention was attracted by an object in his path, and although the halt he made was but momentary, it enabled me to gain some ground, and I ran on with redoubled speed. The object in question was none other than the carcass of the “big horn,” which lay fresh and bloody, rolled up in the skin, directly in my line of flight. The bear pawed it over, snatched a hasty mouthful, and then resumed the pursuit; but his brief hesitation had been my salvation, and I had reached the tree which I had selected before he could overtake me. My climbing experience gained during my expeditions with Wakometkla, now stood me in good stead, and I “shinned” up the tree with the agility of a monkey. I had no time to spare, however, for my ursine friend reached the base of the tree before I had ascended far enough to be entirely out of reach, and rearing up, succeeded in getting a slight hold of my right foot. I clung to the tree with the desperation of despair, and the moccasin giving way, I soon drew myself above his reach, with no other injury than a severe scratch. In a few seconds I was safely ensconced among the branches, about thirty feet from the ground, while my baffled antagonist was walking round and round it, uttering growls of rage, and stripping the bark from the tree with his terrible claws.

During my hasty flight I had slung my bow across my back, and had fortunately preserved it safely. My quiver, well filled with arrows, being attached to my person by a belt, I was well supplied with ammunition; and thinking it about time to commence offensive operations, I secured myself to the tree with strips of leather cut from my shoulder belt, and commenced trying my skill as an archer, with the bear as a living and movable target. Owing to my cramped position in the tree, my aim was necessarily uncertain, and many of my shafts went wide of the mark; still, I did succeed in hitting the brute several times, but with no other effect than to increase his rage and apparent determination to watch until he should tire me out, and overcome by fatigue or sleep, I might fall from the tree, and thus become an easy victim. Seeing this, I desisted after a while, and settled myself down to wait as patiently as I might for him to tire of his watch, or for relief of some sort to arrive. Perhaps an hour had elapsed when I heard a noise on the opposite side of the clearing, and on looking in that direction I saw Wakometkla just emerging from the woods. The bear saw him at the same instant, and abandoning his post of sentinel, rushed towards his new enemy. The old Indian waited long enough to discharge three or four arrows with great rapidity, and then ascended the nearest tree with a rapidity quite surprising in a man of his age and build. Two of his shots had taken effect that is, they had hit the bear; but they caused no diminution of his energy or fierceness. He rushed to the base of the tree, and vented his rage in stripping the bark from its trunk. Finding that his intended prey had escaped him, he soon desisted from this occupation, and returning to the carcass of the “big horn,” began devouring it, at the same time keeping a constant watch upon our movements, so as to preclude the possibility of our slipping away. In spite of the uncomfortable nature of our position, I could not help laughing at the ludicrous picture we presented, perched in the trees like a couple of monkeys, hardly daring to move lest we might lose our hold and tumble into the clutches of our unpleasant neighbor. The bear soon finished his repast, indeed it was but a mouthful to an animal of his size and appetite, and he commenced walking back and forth between the two trees in which we were severally ensconced, evidently trying to form some plan by which he could get at us. But his cogitations apparently resulted in nothing; and in fact, we were not at all disturbed as to the probability of his being able to reach us. We knew that we were perfectly safe in our lofty retreat, but how long we might have to remain there was another matter, and I for one was decidedly wearied of my airy prison. I knew that no search would be made for us for several days, as we frequently remained absent two or three days at a time when on these expeditions. Our only hope was that our self-appointed jailor might weary of the task he had set himself, or be compelled to go in search of food or water; and in that case we could improve the opportunity, and get out of reach without difficulty. For hour after hour, however, he kept up his sentinel-like tramp from tree to tree; at times varying the monotony of his proceedings by frantic attacks upon their trunks. The tree to which I had retreated was not more than eighteen inches in diameter, and I was not without fear at one time that he would succeed in demolishing it altogether, and bringing me “down by the run.” I was not destined, however, to find out whether he was able to accomplish that feat or not, for after tearing away at it for a while, and making the splinters fly in a rather alarming manner, he seemed to tire of it, and resumed his patrolling between the two trees.

The day had worn away to near its close, and I was contemplating the unpleasant prospect before me of passing the night in my very uncomfortable quarters, when the sound of hoof-strokes reached my ears. Looking out through the opening, upon the plain, I saw a party of about a dozen Indians riding leisurely up the valley, evidently one of the hunting parties on their return. They were nearly a mile from our position, but in these elevated regions sounds can be heard at almost incredible distances, and I at once shouted at the top of my voice, to attract their attention. Wakometkla did the same, and we were evidently heard, for they halted for a moment, and after a glance in our direction, galloped towards us. As they neared us I expected to see the bear take himself off without ceremony, but to my surprise, he showed no signs of such an intention. On the contrary, when they had passed about half the distance at first separating us, he advanced to the edge of the plain and stood as if inviting attack. The Indians rode up to within a few rods of the grizzly, and then seeing us in our haven of safety they realized the situation at a glance, and burst into uproarious laughter. This seemed to irritate the grizzly, for he uttered a roar of rage and rushed fiercely at them; then ensued an exciting and amusing scene.

The Indians at first used only the lasso, and in a few seconds three or four of them had “roped him,” and by spurring up their horses, he was dragged first one way and then another, making frantic efforts to free himself, and growling savagely all the while. Meanwhile the other horsemen rode up as near as safety would permit, and fairly riddled him with arrows. Overcome by superior numbers, “old Eph,” at length succumbed to his fate, and a few lance thrusts soon put an end to his existence.

Wakometkla and myself quickly descended from our tree fortresses and joined the party, who greeted us with exclamations expressive of satisfaction, at having rescued us from our unpleasant predicament: The bear was soon skinned and cut up, and we returned to the village with our rescuers. As far as I was concerned, I felt fully satisfied with my experience as an interviewer of grizzly bears, and had no desire to repeat it, for although hunting the bear may be a pleasing pastime, it is not quite so pleasing when the bear hunts you.

However, “all’s well that ends well,” and if this narrative affords my readers any amusement, I shall never regret my day spent in a tree top.