The Boy Scouts of the Air in Indian Land Part 11

"You fellows had better wait here for a few minutes, till I see if I can find his hole," instructed the Indian. "If I can find that, we're sure of getting him or of him getting us."

"Suppose he gets after you, Carl. Better fire a signal," said Fly anxiously.

"He can't fire with his bow and arrow, bone-head," gibed Herb.

"I'll just shout," said Carl. "But I can get around him all right.

"I hope Carl don't kill him before we get a chance," said Fred, when the Indian was out of sight.

"He won't unless he has to," said Jerry. "He's a mighty square fellow."

"Wouldn't mother have a fit if I should bring back a bear. And the scouts in Cleveland!" Fred's bright eyes shone with the prospect. In imagination he had already laid the grizzly low.

Carl finally came back with the news that he had found the cave.

"Now you just follow me--and don't make any noise. I'm going to walk way around and come up behind the cave--you follow. Keep still."

The Indian started off like a stealthy panther, scarcely moving a leaf or twig. He leapt with the agility of a cat over rocks that lay in his path, and was obliged to pause now and then for the rest of the party to catch up, as they had considerable more difficulty. The low branches were inclined to swish as they pa.s.sed, and it was not an easy matter to avoid crackling dry leaves and twigs underfoot. They fell and scrambled over rocks, and unlucky Fly got into another bunch of cactus.

Finally they came to an open s.p.a.ce, and Carl pointed to a formation of rock.

"In front of that is a hole," he whispered. "That's where the grizzly is. Crawl up on top of the rock, over the hole, and get your guns ready.

Aim just as soon as you get a chance at him."

The boys, though they were stout-hearted fellows, followed nervously.

Hawke had trailed and shot grizzlies before, and, though his sporting blood was aroused, he was willing to stand aside and let the boys try for the game. All of the other boys, except Fred and Tender, had previously been close to live grizzlies, but only Carl had actually trailed one.

The rock was large enough for all to climb upon, squat down and hold their guns. Not one of the boys was at all afraid, yet the excitement made their hearts beat fast, and in their eagerness to succeed, they held their guns with rather unsteady hands.

Carl leaned over the edge of the rock, and deliberately yelled into the mouth of the cave. There was a low growl as he sprang back, but, after waiting several minutes, no grizzly appeared.

The Indian boy then took a coat which he had brought along, and dropped it down in front of the grizzly's hole.

There was another growl, stronger than the first. And then another. It is difficult to describe the feelings of the boys as they sat there, almost on top of a real grizzly, and a live one at that. Yet they dared not speak, and could only sit still, everyone at high tension, until something, they scarcely dared think what, happened. They felt a measure of safety, however, with Carl and Hawke along.

Finally the grizzly came out and sat down on the coat, looking around.

Then he raised himself on his haunches, and smelt the air. Just as he caught sight of the boys, Carl whispered as loudly as he could--

"Now!"

Two guns boomed--Herb's and Fred's. The big animal rolled over with a furious growl, and lay kicking for a second. Then he regained his feet, and, his teeth and red gums showing, was about to make a spring at the party on the rocks. Jerry could not suppress a shriek, and Fly was too excited to do anything but cling to Dunk. Hawke, however, was quick enough for the animal. He let him have it just before Carl's arrow wedged itself in the animal's forehead.

This time the grizzly rolled over for good, and gave very few parting kicks.

Carl sprang down from his point of vantage, and gave the bear a violent push with his foot, almost rolling him over on his back.

The blood was flowing freely from the wounds, while the grizzly's open mouth filled with froth and blood, and his glazed eyes told plainly that he had dug his last root.

"Is he sure dead?" asked Fly, who with Jerry and Dunk, had remained on the rock for safety.

"Did you ever see a live grizzly act like that?" returned Herb, poking the animal in the side to show that he, at least, was not afraid.

At this show of bravery all the boys came nearer.

"Well, let's carry him to camp," ordered Carl, and, under his direction, the boys found two stout sticks which they run through the bear's feet, one through the fore and one through the hind feet where Carl had made slits. When they got him back to their camp they strapped him on the pony and prepared for dinner.

CHAPTER VIII

THE STORM

"Gee, I could eat bear meat raw," exclaimed Fly. "Fur and all."

"Well, get busy, put on this grub," ordered Jerry.

Hawke made himself one of the boys, put on the wooden plates, helped clean the fish, and broiled two of them.

The Indian had made a good fire of twigs which he had gathered, and had buried some of the fish underneath in the sand, to bake, throwing potatoes into the fire to roast.

"Look, fellows, mother put in a homemade cake," announced Jerry, setting a tempting chocolate-covered cake on the papers which served as a table cloth.

"Doughnuts and pickles," announced Fly, filling some wooden plates.

"Wow, chili sauce--hot--for baked fish."

"Con carni for anybody that wants it--I don't," put in Herb.

"Bread," "Sandwiches," "Olives," and so on each boy announced gayly as his contribution to the feast, and, when they finally sat down in a circle, they proved their keen appet.i.tes by the way things disappeared.

There was not much conversation during the meal. They were all too hungry to talk.

"What's the use of hunting any more, fellows?" said Dunk, at last, when there was some show of abatement on the part of the diners. "We can't do much better'n a grizzly."

"What if we should get a deer," encouraged Tender Gray. "I saw some prints around here."

"Suppose you know as much about deer prints as bear prints," teased Herb, remembering Tender's mistake.

"I guess those were our pony's prints," said Fly, helping Herb along.

There was a general laugh, which Tender took in good part. "Well, I ain't been a scout very long," he apologized.

"We're hunting for a thunder bird, too, you must remember," reminded Dunk. "Wish't some of you could read tracks in the air."

"Let's look around and see which way we're goin' this afternoon,"

suggested Jerry, producing his spygla.s.s.