[Illustration: His Whole Appearance Suggested Dyspepsia.]

JOHNNY BEAR

and other stories

from

Lives of the Hunted

by

Ernest Thompson Seton


[Illustration]



CONTENTS:

JOHNNY BEAR

His Whole Appearance Suggested Dyspepsia
But Johnny Wanted to See
A Syrup-tin Kept Him Happy for a Long Time


TITO: THE STORY OF THE COYOTE THAT LEARNED HOW

Coyotito, the Captive
They Considered Themselves Acquainted
Their Evening Song
Tito and her Brood
Tito's Race for Life

WHY THE CHICKADEE GOES CRAZY ONCE A YEAR




JOHNNY BEAR


I


Johnny was a queer little bear cub that lived with Grumpy, his mother,
in the Yellowstone Park. They were among the many Bears that found a
desirable home in the country about the Fountain Hotel.

[Illustration]

The steward of the Hotel had ordered the kitchen garbage to be dumped in
an open glade of the surrounding forest, thus providing throughout the
season, a daily feast for the Bears, and their numbers have increased
each year since the law of the land has made the Park a haven of
refuge where no wild thing may be harmed. They have accepted man's
peace-offering, and many of them have become so well known to the Hotel
men that they have received names suggested by their looks or ways. Slim
Jim was a very long-legged thin Blackbear; Snuffy was a Blackbear that
looked as though he had been singed; Fatty was a very fat, lazy Bear
that always lay down to eat; the Twins were two half-grown, ragged
specimens that always came and went together. But Grumpy and Little
Johnny were the best known of them all.

[Illustration]

Grumpy was the biggest and fiercest of the Blackbears, and Johnny,
apparently her only son, was a peculiarly tiresome little cub, for he
seemed never to cease either grumbling or whining. This probably meant
that he was sick, for a healthy little Bear does not grumble all the
time, any more than a healthy child. And indeed Johnny looked sick;
he was the most miserable specimen in the Park. His whole appearance
suggested dyspepsia; and this I quite understood when I saw the awful
mixtures he would eat at that garbage-heap. Anything at all that he
fancied he would try. And his mother allowed him to do as he pleased;
so, after all, it was chiefly her fault, for she should not have
permitted such things.

Johnny had only three good legs, his coat was faded and mangy, his limbs
were thin, and his ears and paunch were disproportionately large. Yet
his mother thought the world of him. She was evidently convinced that
he was a little beauty and the Prince of all Bears, so, of course, she
quite spoiled him. She was always ready to get into trouble on his
account, and he was always delighted to lead her there. Although such
a wretched little failure, Johnny was far from being a fool, for he
usually knew just what he wanted and how to get it, if teasing his
mother could carry the point.




II


It was in the summer of 1897 that I made their acquaintance. I was in
the park to study the home life of the animals, and had been told that
in the woods, near the Fountain Hotel, I could see Bears at any time,
which, of course, I scarcely believed. But on stepping out of the back
door five minutes after arriving, I came face to face with a large
Blackbear and her two cubs.

I stopped short, not a little startled. The Bears also stopped and sat
up to look at me. Then Mother Bear made a curious short _Koff Koff_, and
looked toward a near pine-tree. The cubs seemed to know what she meant,
for they ran to this tree and scrambled up like two little monkeys, and
when safely aloft they sat like small boys, holding on with their hands,
while their little black legs dangled in the air, and waited to see what
was to happen down below.

[Illustration]

The Mother Bear, still on her hind legs, came slowly toward me, and I
began to feel very uncomfortable indeed, for she stood about six feet
high in her stockings and had apparently never heard of the magical
power of the human eye.

I had not even a stick to defend myself with, and when she gave a low
growl, I was about to retreat to the Hotel, although previously assured
that the Bears have always kept their truce with man. However, just at
this turning point the old one stopped, now but thirty feet away, and
continued to survey me calmly. She seemed in doubt for a minute, but
evidently made up her mind that, "although that human thing might be all
right, she would take no chances for her little ones."

She looked up to her two hopefuls, and gave a peculiar whining _Er-r-r
Er-r,_ whereupon they, like obedient children, jumped, as at the word
of command. There was nothing about them heavy or bear-like as commonly
understood; lightly they swung from bough to bough till they dropped to
the ground, and all went off together into the woods. I was much tickled
by the prompt obedience of the little Bears. As soon as their mother
told them to do something they did it. They did not even offer a
suggestion. But I also found out that there was a good reason for it,
for had they not done as she had told them they would have got such a
spanking as would have made them howl.

[Illustration]

This was a delightful peep into Bear home life, and would have been well
worth coming for, if the insight had ended there. But my friends in the
Hotel said that that was not the best place for Bears. I should go to
the garbage-heap, a quarter-mile off in the forest. There, they said, I
surely could see as many Bears as I wished (which was absurd of them).

[Illustration]

Early the next morning I went to this Bears' Banqueting Hall in the
pines, and hid in the nearest bushes.

Before very long a large Blackbear came quietly out of the woods to
the pile, and began turning over the garbage and feeding. He was very
nervous, sitting up and looking about at each slight sound, or running
away a few yards when startled by some trifle. At length he cocked his
ears and galloped off into the pines, as another Blackbear appeared. He
also behaved in the same timid manner, and at last ran away when I shook
the bushes in trying to get a better view.

At the outset I myself had been very nervous, for of course no man is
allowed to carry weapons in the Park; but the timidity of these Bears
reassured me, and thenceforth I forgot everything in the interest of
seeing the great, shaggy creatures in their home life. [Illustration]

Soon I realized I could not get the close insight I wished from that
bush, as it was seventy-five yards from the garbage-pile. There was none
nearer; so I did the only thing left to do: I went to the garbage-pile
itself, and, digging a hole big enough to hide in, remained there all
day long, with cabbage-stalks, old potato-peelings, tomato-cans, and
carrion piled up in odorous heaps around me. Notwithstanding the
opinions of countless flies, it was not an attractive place. Indeed, it
was so unfragrant that at night, when I returned to the Hotel, I was not
allowed to come in until after I had changed my clothes in the woods.

It had been a trying ordeal, but I surely did see Bears that day. If
I may reckon it a new Bear each time one came, I must have seen over
forty. But of course it was not, for the Bears were coming and going.
And yet I am certain of this: there were at least thirteen Bears, for I
had thirteen about me at one time.

All that day I used my sketch-book and journal. Every Bear that came was
duly noted; and this process soon began to give the desired insight into
their ways and personalities.

Many unobservant persons think and say that all Negroes, or all
Chinamen, as well as all animals of a kind, look alike. But just as
surely as each human being differs from the next, so surely each animal
is different from its fellow; otherwise how would the old ones know
their mates or the little ones their mother, as they certainly do?
These feasting Bears gave a good illustration of this, for each had its
individuality; no two were quite alike in appearance or in character.

[Illustration]

This curious fact also appeared: I could hear the Woodpeckers pecking
over one hundred yards away in the woods, as well as the Chickadees
chickadeeing, the Blue-jays blue-jaying, and even the Squirrels
scampering across the leafy forest floor; and yet I _did not hear one of
these Bears come_. Their huge, padded feet always went down in exactly
the right [Illustration: But Johnny Wanted to See.] spot to break no
stick, to rustle no leaf, showing how perfectly they had learned the art
of going in silence through the woods.




III


All morning the Bears came and went or wandered near my hiding-place
without discovering me; and, except for one or two brief quarrels, there
was nothing very exciting to note. But about three in the afternoon it
became more lively.

[Illustration]

There were then four large Bears feeding on the heap. In the middle
was Fatty, sprawling at full length as he feasted, a picture of placid
ursine content, puffing just a little at times as he strove to save
himself the trouble of moving by darting out his tongue like a long red
serpent, farther and farther, in quest of the titbits just beyond claw
reach.

Behind him Slim Jim was puzzling over the anatomy and attributes of
an ancient lobster. It was something outside his experience, but the
principle, "In case of doubt take the trick," is well known in Bearland,
and it settled the difficulty.

The other two were clearing out fruit-tins with marvellous dexterity.
One supple paw would hold the tin while the long tongue would dart again
and again through the narrow opening, avoiding the sharp edges, yet
cleaning out the can to the last taste of its sweetness.

This pastoral scene lasted long enough to be sketched, but was ended
abruptly. My eye caught a movement on the hilltop whence all the Bears
had come, and out stalked a very large Blackbear with a tiny cub. It was
Grumpy and Little Johnny.

The old Bear stalked down the slope toward the feast, and Johnny hitched
alongside, grumbling as he came, his mother watching him as solicitously
as ever a hen did her single chick. When they were within thirty yards
of the garbage-heap, Grumpy turned to her son and said something which,
judging from its effect, must have meant: "Johnny, my child, I think you
had better stay here while I go and chase those fellows away."

Johnny obediently waited; but he wanted to _see_, so he sat up on his
hind legs with eyes agog and ears acock.

Grumpy came striding along with dignity, uttering warning growls as she
approached the four Bears. They were too much engrossed to pay any heed
to the fact that yet another one of them was coming, till Grumpy, now
within fifteen feet, let out a succession of loud coughing sounds, and
charged into them. Strange to say, they did not pretend to face her,
but, as soon as they saw who it was, scattered and all fled for the
woods.

Slim Jim could safely trust his heels, and the other two were not far
behind; but poor Fatty, puffing hard and waddling like any other very
fat creature, got along but slowly, and, unluckily for him, he fled in
the direction of Johnny, so that Grumpy overtook him in a few bounds
and gave him a couple of sound slaps in the rear which, if they did not
accelerate his pace, at least made him bawl, and saved him by changing
his direction. Grumpy, now left alone in possession of the feast, turned
toward her son and uttered the whining _Er-r-r Er-r-r Er-r-r-r,_ Johnny
responded eagerly. He came "hoppity-hop" on his three good legs as fast
as he could, and, joining her on the garbage, they began to have such a
good time that Johnny actually ceased grumbling.

[Illustration]

He had evidently been there before now, for he seemed to know quite well
the staple kinds of canned goods. One might almost have supposed that he
had learned the brands, for a lobster-tin had no charm for him as long
as he could find those that once were filled with jam. Some of the tins
gave him much trouble, as he was too greedy or too clumsy to escape
being scratched by the sharp edges. One seductive fruit-tin had a hole
so large that he found he could force his head into it, and for a few
minutes his joy was full as he licked into all the farthest corners.
But when he tried to draw his head out, his sorrows began, for he found
himself caught. He could not get out, and he scratched and screamed like
any other spoiled child, giving his mother no end of concern, although
she seemed not to know how to help him. When at length he got the tin
off his head, he revenged himself by hammering it with his paws till it
was perfectly flat.

A large syrup-can made him happy for a long time. It had had a lid, so
that the hole was round and smooth; but it was not big enough to admit
his head, and he could not touch its riches with his tongue stretched
out its longest. He soon hit on a plan, however. Putting in his little
black arm, he churned it around, then drew out and licked it clean; and
while he licked one he got the other one ready; and he did this again
and again, until the [Illustration: A Syrup-tin Kept Him Happy for
a Long Time] can was as clean inside as when first it had left the
factory.

A broken mouse-trap seemed to puzzle him. He clutched it between his
fore paws, their strong inturn being sympathetically reflected in his
hind feet, and held it firmly for study. The cheesy smell about it was
decidedly good, but the thing responded in such an uncanny way, when he
slapped it, that he kept back a cry for help only by the exercise of
unusual self-control. After gravely inspecting it, with his head first
on this side and then on that, and his lips puckered into a little
tube, he submitted it to the same punishment as that meted out to the
refractory fruit-tin, and was rewarded by discovering a nice little bit
of cheese in the very heart of the culprit.

[Illustration]

Johnny had evidently never heard of ptomaine-poisoning, for nothing came
amiss. After the jams and fruits gave out he turned his attention to the
lobster- and sardine-cans, and was not appalled by even the army beef.
His paunch grew quite balloon-like, and from much licking, his arms
looked thin and shiny, as though he was wearing black silk gloves.




IV


It occurred to me that I might now be in a really dangerous place. For
it is one thing surprising a Bear that has no family responsibilities,
and another stirring up a bad-tempered old mother by frightening her
cub.

[Illustration]

"Supposing," I thought, "that cranky Little Johnny should wander over to
this end of the garbage and find me in the hole; he will at once set up
a squall, and his mother, of course, will think I am hurting him, and,
without giving me a chance to explain, may forget the rules of the Park
and make things very unpleasant."

Luckily, all the jam-pots were at Johnny's end; he stayed by them, and
Grumpy stayed by him. At length he noticed that his mother had a better
tin than any he could find, and as he ran whining to take it from her he
chanced to glance away up the slope. There he saw something that made
him sit up and utter a curious little _Koff Koff Koff Koff._

His mother turned quickly, and sat up to see "what the child was looking
at." I followed their gaze, and there, oh, horrors! was an enormous
Grizzly Bear. He was a monster; he looked like a fur-clad omnibus coming
through the trees.

Johnny set up a whine at once and got behind his mother. She uttered a
deep growl, and all her back hair stood on end. Mine did too, but I kept
as still as possible.

With stately tread the Grizzly came on. His vast shoulders sliding
along his sides, and his silvery robe swaying at each tread, like
the trappings on an elephant, gave an impression of power that was
appalling.

[Illustration]

Johnny began to whine more loudly, and I fully sympathized with him now,
though I did not join in. After a moment's hesitation Grumpy turned to
her noisy cub and said something that sounded to me like two or three
short coughs--_Koff Koff Koff_. But I imagine that she really said: "My
child, I think you had better get up that tree, while I go and drive the
brute away."

[Illustration]

At any rate, that was what Johnny did, and this what she set out to do.
But Johnny had no notion of missing any fun. He wanted to _see_ what was
going to happen. So he did not rest contented where he was hidden in the
thick branches of the pine, but combined safety with view by climbing to
the topmost branch that would bear him, and there, sharp against the
sky, he squirmed about and squealed aloud in his excitement. The branch
was so small that it bent under his weight, swaying this way and that as
he shifted about, and every moment I expected to see it snap off. If it
had been broken when swaying my way, Johnny would certainly have fallen
on me, and this would probably have resulted in bad feelings between
myself and his mother; but the limb was tougher than it looked, or
perhaps Johnny had had plenty of experience, for he neither lost his
hold nor broke the branch.

Meanwhile, Grumpy stalked out to meet the Grizzly. She stood as high as
she could and set all her bristles on end; then, growling and chopping
her teeth, she faced him.

The Grizzly, so far as I could see, took no notice of her. He came
striding toward the feast although alone. But when Grumpy got within
twelve feet of him she uttered a succession of short, coughy roars,
and, charging, gave him a tremendous blow on the ear. The Grizzly was
surprised; but he replied with a left-hander that knocked her over like
a sack of hay.

Nothing daunted, but doubly furious, she jumped up and rushed at him.

Then they clinched and rolled over and over, whacking and pounding,
snorting and growling, and making no end of dust and rumpus. But above
all then: noise I could clearly hear Little Johnny, yelling at the top
of his voice, and evidently encouraging his mother to go right in and
finish the Grizzly at once.

Why the Grizzly did not break her in two I could not understand. After a
few minutes' struggle, during which I could see nothing but dust and
dim flying legs, the two separated as by mutual consent--perhaps the
regulation time was up--and for a while they stood glaring at each
other, Grumpy at least much winded.

The Grizzly would have dropped the matter right there. He did not wish
to fight. He had no idea of troubling himself about Johnny. All he
wanted was a quiet meal. But no! The moment he took one step toward the
garbage-pile, that is, as Grumpy thought, toward Johnny, she went at him
again. But this time the Grizzly was ready for her. With one blow he
knocked her off her feet and sent her crashing on to a huge upturned
pine-root. She was fairly staggered this time. The force of the blow,
and the rude reception of the rooty antlers, seemed to take all the
fight out of her. She scrambled over and tried to escape. But the
Grizzly was mad now. He meant to punish her, and dashed around the root.
For a minute they kept up a dodging chase about it; but Grumpy was
quicker of foot, and somehow always managed to keep the root between
herself and her foe, while Johnny, safe in the tree, continued to take
an intense and uproarious interest.

[Illustration] At length, seeing he could not catch her that way, the
Grizzly sat up on his haunches; and while he doubtless was planning a
new move, old Grumpy saw her chance, and making a dash, got away from
the root and up to the top of the tree where Johnny was perched.

[Illustration]

Johnny came down a little way to meet her, or perhaps so that the tree
might not break off with the additional weight. Having photographed this
interesting group from my hiding-place, I thought I must get a closer
picture at any price, and for the first time in the day's proceedings I
jumped out of the hole and ran under the tree. This move proved a great
mistake, for here the thick lower boughs came between, and I could see
nothing at all of the Bears at the top.

I was close to the trunk, and was peering about and seeking for a chance
to use the camera, when old Grumpy began to come down, chopping her
teeth and uttering her threatening cough at me. While I stood in doubt I
heard a voice far behind me calling: "Say, Mister! You better look out;
that ole B'ar is liable to hurt you."

I turned to see the cow-boy of the Hotel on his Horse. He had been
riding after the cattle, and chanced to pass near just as events were
moving quickly.

"Do you know these Bears?" said I, as he rode up.

"Wall, I reckon I do," said he. "That there little one up top is Johnny;
he's a little crank. An' the big un is Grumpy; she's a big crank. She's
mighty onreliable gen'relly, but she's always strictly ugly when Johnny
hollers like that."

"I should much like to get her picture when she comes down," said I.

"Tell ye what I'll do: I'll stay by on the pony, an' if she goes to
bother you I reckon I can keep her off," said the man.

[Illustration]

He accordingly stood by as Grumpy slowly came down from branch to
branch, growling and threatening. But when she neared the ground she
kept on the far side of the trunk, and finally slipped down and ran into
the woods, without the slightest pretence of carrying out any of her
dreadful threats. Thus Johnny was again left alone. He climbed up to his
old perch and resumed his monotonous whining: _Wah! Wah! Wal!_! ("Oh,
dear! Oh, dear! Oh, dear!")

I got the camera ready, and was arranging deliberately to take his
picture in his favourite and peculiar attitude for threnodic song, when
all at once he began craning his neck and yelling, as he had done during
the fight.

I looked where his nose pointed, and here was the Grizzly coming on
straight toward me--not charging, but striding along, as though he meant
to come the whole distance.

I said to my cow-boy friend: "Do you know this Bear?"

He replied: "Wall! I reckon I do. That's the ole Grizzly. He's the
biggest B'ar in the Park. He gen'relly minds his own business, but he
ain't scared o' nothin'; an' to-day, ye see, he's been scrappin', so
he's liable to be ugly."

[Illustration]

"I would like to take his picture," said I; "and if you will help me, I
am willing to take some chances on it."

"All right," said he, with a grin. "I'll stand by on the Horse, an' if
he charges you I'll charge him; an' I kin knock him down once, but I
can't do it twice. You better have your tree picked out."

As there was only one tree to pick out, and that was the one that Johnny
was in, the prospect was not alluring. I imagined myself scrambling up
there next to Johnny, and then Johnny's mother coming up after me, with
the Grizzly below to catch me when Grumpy should throw me down.

[Illustration]

The Grizzly came on, and I snapped him at forty yards, then again at
twenty yards; and still he came quietly toward me. I sat down on
the garbage and made ready. Eighteen yards--sixteen yards--twelve
yards--eight yards, and still he came, while the pitch of Johnny's
protests kept rising proportionately. Finally at five yards he stopped,
and swung his huge bearded head to one side, to see what was making that
aggravating row in the tree-top, giving me a profile view, and I snapped
the camera. At the click he turned on me with a thunderous

  G--R--O--W--L!

and I sat still and trembling, wondering if my last moment had come. For
a second he glared at me and I could note the little green electric
lamp in each of his eyes. Then he slowly turned and picked up--a large
tomato-can.

"Goodness!" I thought, "is he going to throw that at me?" But he
deliberately licked it out, dropped it, and took another, paying
thenceforth no heed whatever either to me or to Johnny, evidently
considering us equally beneath his notice.

I backed slowly and respectfully out of his royal presence, leaving him
in possession of the garbage, while Johnny kept on caterwauling from his
safety-perch.

What became of Grumpy the rest of that day I do not know. Johnny, after
bewailing for a time, realized that there was no sympathetic hearer of
his cries, and therefore very sagaciously stopped them. Having no mother
now to plan for him, he began to plan for himself, and at once proved
that he was better stuff than he seemed. After watching with a look of
profound cunning on his little black face, and waiting till the Grizzly
was some distance away, he silently slipped down behind the trunk, and,
despite his three-leggedness, ran like a hare to the next tree, never
stopping to breathe till he was on its topmost bough. For he was
thoroughly convinced that the only object that the Grizzly had in life
was to kill him, and he seemed quite aware that his enemy could not
climb a tree.

Another long and safe survey of the Grizzly, who really paid no heed to
him whatever, was followed by another dash for the next tree, varied
occasionally by a cunning feint to mislead the foe. So he went dashing
from tree to tree and climbing each to its very top,--although it might
be but ten feet from the last, till he disappeared in the woods. After,
perhaps, ten minutes, his voice again came floating on the breeze, the
habitual querulous whining which told me he had found his mother and had
resumed his customary appeal to her sympathy.

[Illustration]




V.


It is quite a common thing for Bears to spank their cubs when they need
it, and if Grumpy had disciplined Johnny this way, it would have saved
them both a deal of worry. Perhaps not a day passed, that summer,
without Grumpy getting into trouble on Johnny's account. But of all
these numerous occasions the most ignominious was shortly after the
affair with the Grizzly.

I first heard the story from three bronzed mountaineers. As they were
very sensitive about having their word doubted, and very good shots
with the revolver, I believed every word they told me, especially when
afterward fully endorsed by the Park authorities.

It seemed that of all the tinned goods on the pile the nearest to
Johnny's taste were marked with a large purple plum. This conclusion he
had arrived at only after most exhaustive study. The very odour of those
plums in Johnny's nostrils was the equivalent of ecstasy. So when it
came about one day that the cook of the Hotel baked a huge batch of
plum-tarts, the tell-tale wind took the story afar into the woods, where
it was wafted by way of Johnny's nostrils to his very soul.

[Illustration]

Of course Johnny was whimpering at the time. His mother was busy
"washing his face and combing his hair," so he had double cause for
whimpering. But the smell of the tarts thrilled him; he jumped up, and
when his mother tried to hold him he squalled, and I am afraid--he
bit her. She should have cuffed him, but she did not. She only gave a
disapproving growl, and followed to see that he came to no harm.

[Illustration]

With his little black nose in the wind, Johnny led straight for the
kitchen. He took the precaution, however, of climbing from time to time
to the very top of a pine-tree look-out to take an observation, while
Grumpy stayed below.

Thus they came close to the kitchen, and there, in the last tree,
Johnny's courage as a leader gave out, so he remained aloft and
expressed his hankering for tarts in a woebegone wail.

It is not likely that Grumpy knew exactly what her son was crying for.
But it is sure that as soon as she showed an inclination to go back into
the pines, Johnny protested in such an outrageous and heart-rending
screeching that his mother simply could not leave him, and he showed no
sign of coming down to be led away.

Grumpy herself was fond of plum-jam. The odour was now, of course, very
strong and proportionately alluring; so Grumpy followed it somewhat
cautiously up to the kitchen door.

There was nothing surprising about this. The rule of "live and let live"
is so strictly enforced in the Park that the Bears often come to the
kitchen door for pickings, and on getting something, they go quietly
back to the woods. Doubtless Johnny and Grumpy would each have gotten
their tart but that a new factor appeared in the case.

[Illustration]

That week the Hotel people had brought a new cat from the East. She was
not much more than a kitten, but still had a litter of her own, and at
the moment that Grumpy reached the door, the Cat and her family were
sunning themselves on the top step. Pussy opened her eyes to see this
huge, shaggy monster towering above her.

The Cat had never before seen a Bear--she had not been there long
enough; she did not know even what a Bear was. She knew what a Dog was,
and here was a bigger, more awful bob-tailed black dog than ever she had
dreamed of coming right at her. Her first thought was to fly for her
life. But her next was for the kittens. She must take care of them. She
must at least cover their retreat. So like a brave little mother, she
braced herself on that door-step, and spreading her back, her claws, her
tail, and everything she had to spread, she screamed out at that Bear an
unmistakable order to

STOP!

[Illustration]

The language must have been "Cat," but the meaning was clear to the
Bear; for those who saw it maintain stoutly that Grumpy not only
stopped, but she also conformed to the custom of the country and in
token of surrender held up her hands.

However, the position she thus took made her so high that the Cat seemed
tiny in the distance below. Old Grumpy had faced a Grizzly once, and was
she now to be held up by a miserable little spike-tailed skunk no bigger
than a mouthful? She was ashamed of herself, especially when a wail from
Johnny smote on her ear and reminded her of her plain duty, as well as
supplied his usual moral support.

So she dropped down on her front feet to proceed.

Again the Cat shrieked, "STOP!" But Grumpy ignored the command. A scared
mew from a kitten nerved the Cat, and she launched her ultimatum, which
ultimatum was herself. Eighteen sharp claws, a mouthful of keen teeth,
had Pussy, and she worked them all with a desperate will when she landed
on Grumpy's bare, bald, sensitive nose, just the spot of all where the
Bear cold not stand it, and then worked backward to a point outside the
sweep of Grumpy's claws. After one or two vain attempts to shake the
spotted fury off, old Grumpy did just as most creatures would have done
under the circumstances: she turned tail and bolted out of the enemy's
country into her own woods.

But Puss's fighting blood was up. She was not content with repelling the
enemy; she wanted to inflict a crushing defeat, to achieve an absolute
and final rout. And however fast old Grumpy might go, it did not count,
for the Cat was still on top, working her teeth and claws like a little
demon. Grumpy, always erratic, now became panic-stricken. The trail of
the pair was flecked with tufts of long black hair, and there was even
bloodshed (in the fiftieth degree). Honour surely was satisfied, but
Pussy was not. Round and round they had gone in the mad race. Grumpy was
frantic, absolutely humiliated, and ready to make any terms; but Pussy
seemed deaf to her cough-like yelps, and no one knows how far the Cat
might have ridden that day had not Johnny unwittingly put a new idea
into his mother's head by bawling in his best style from the top of his
last tree, which tree Grumpy made for and scrambled up.

[Illustration]

This was so clearly the enemy's country and in view of his
reinforcements that the Cat wisely decided to follow no farther.
She jumped from the climbing Bear to the ground, and then mounted
sentry-guard below, marching around with tail in the air, daring that
Bear to come down. Then the kittens came out and sat around, and enjoyed
it all hugely. And the mountaineers assured me that the Bears would have
been kept up the tree till they were starved, had not the cook of the
Hotel come out and called off his Cat--although this statement was not
among those vouched for by the officers of the Park.




VI.


The last time I saw Johnny he was in the top of a tree, bewailing his
unhappy lot as usual, while his mother was dashing about among the
pines, "with a chip on her shoulder," seeking for someone--anyone--that
she could punish for Johnny's sake, provided, of course, that it was not
a big Grizzly or a Mother Cat.

This was early in August, but there were not lacking symptoms of change
in old Grumpy. She was always reckoned "onsartin," and her devotion to
Johnny seemed subject to her characteristic. This perhaps accounted for
the fact that when the end of the month was near, Johnny would sometimes
spend half a day in the top of some tree, alone, miserable, and utterly
unheeded.

The last chapter of his history came to pass after I had left the
region. One day at grey dawn he was tagging along behind his mother
as she prowled in the rear of the Hotel. A newly hired Irish girl was
already astir in the kitchen. On looking out, she saw, as she thought, a
Calf where it should not be, and ran to shoo it away. That open kitchen
door still held unmeasured terrors for Grumpy, and she ran in such alarm
that Johnny caught the infection, and not being able to keep up with
her, he made for the nearest tree, which unfortunately turned out to be
a post, and soon--too soon--he arrived at its top, some seven feet from
the ground, and there poured forth his woes on the chilly morning air,
while Grumpy apparently felt justified in continuing her flight alone.
When the girl came near and saw that she had treed some wild animal, she
was as much frightened as her victim. But others of the kitchen staff
appeared, and recognizing the vociferous Johnny, they decided to make
him a prisoner.

[Illustration]

A collar and chain were brought, and after a struggle, during which
several of the men got well scratched, the collar was buckled on
Johnny's neck and the chain made fast to the post.

When he found that he was held, Johnny was simply too mad to scream. He
bit and scratched and tore till he was tired out. Then he lifted up his
voice again to call his mother. She did appear once or twice in
the distance, but could not make up her mind to face that Cat, so
disappeared, and Johnny was left to his fate.

[Illustration]

He put in the most of that day in alternate struggling and crying.
Toward evening he was worn out, and glad to accept the meal that was
brought by Norah, who felt herself called on to play mother, since she
had chased his own mother away.

When night came it was very cold; but Johnny nearly froze at the top of
the post before he would come down and accept the warm bed provided at
the bottom.

During the days that followed, Grumpy came often to the garbage-heap,
but soon apparently succeeded in forgetting all about her son. He was
daily tended by Norah, and received all his meals from her. He also
received something else; for one day he scratched her when she brought
his food, and she very properly spanked him till he squealed. For a few
hours he sulked; he was not used to such treatment. But hunger subdued
him, and thenceforth he held his new guardian in wholesome respect. She,
too, began to take an interest in the poor motherless little wretch, and
within a fortnight Johnny showed signs of developing a new character. He
was much less noisy. He still expressed his hunger in a whining _Er-r-r
Er-r-r Er-r-r,_ but he rarely squealed now, and his unruly outbursts
entirely ceased.

[Illustration]

By the third week of September the change was still more marked. Utterly
abandoned by his own mother, all his interest had centred in Norah, and
she had fed and spanked him into an exceedingly well-behaved little
Bear. Sometimes she would allow him a taste of freedom, and he then
showed his bias by making, not for the woods, but for the kitchen where
she was, and following her around on his hind legs. Here also he made
the acquaintance of that dreadful Cat; but Johnny had a powerful
friend now, and Pussy finally became reconciled to the black, woolly
interloper.

As the Hotel was to be closed in October, there was talk of turning
Johnny loose or of sending him to the Washington Zoo; but Norah had
claims that she would not forgo.

When the frosty nights of late September came, Johnny had greatly
improved in his manners, but he had also developed a bad cough. An
examination of his lame leg had shown that the weakness was not in the
foot, but much more deeply seated, perhaps in the hip, and that meant a
feeble and tottering constitution.

He did not get fat, as do most Bears in fall; indeed, he continued to
fail. His little round belly shrank in, his cough became worse, and one
morning he was found very sick and shivering in his bed by the post.
Norah brought him indoors, where the warmth helped him so much that
henceforth he lived in the kitchen.

For a few days he seemed better, and his old-time pleasure in _seeing
things_ revived. The great blazing fire in the range particularly
appealed to him, and made him sit up in his old attitude when the
opening of the door brought the wonder to view. After a week he lost
interest even in that, and drooped more and more each day. Finally not
the most exciting noises or scenes around him could stir up his old
fondness for seeing what was going on.

[Illustration]

He coughed a good deal, too, and seemed wretched, except when in Norah's
lap. Here he would cuddle up contentedly, and whine most miserably when
she had to set him down again in his basket.

A few days before the closing of the Hotel, he refused his usual
breakfast, and whined softly till Norah took him in her lap; then he
feebly snuggled up to her, and his soft _Er-r-r Er-r-r_ grew fainter,
till it ceased. Half an hour later, when she laid him down to go about
her work, Little Johnny had lost the last trace of his anxiety to see
and know what was going on.

[Illustration]






TITO THE STORY OF THE COYOTE THAT LEARNED HOW


I


Raindrop may deflect a thunderbolt, or a hair may ruin an empire, as
surely as a spider-web once turned the history of Scotland; and if it
had not been for one little pebble, this history of Tito might never
have happened.

That pebble was lying on a trail in the Dakota Badlands, and one hot,
dark night it lodged in the foot of a Horse that was ridden by a tipsy
cow-boy. The man got off, as a matter of habit, to know what was laming
his Horse. But he left the reins on its neck instead of on the ground,
and the Horse, taking advantage of this technicality, ran off in the
darkness. Then the cow-boy, realizing that he was afoot, lay down in
a hollow under some buffalo-bushes and slept the loggish sleep of the
befuddled.

The golden beams of the early summer sun were leaping from top to top of
the wonderful Badland Buttes, when an old Coyote might have been seen
trotting homeward along the Garner's Creek Trail with a Rabbit in her
jaws to supply her family's breakfast.

[Illustration]

Fierce war had for a long time been waged against the Coyote kind by
the cattlemen of Billings County. Traps, guns, poison, and Hounds had
reduced their number nearly to zero, and the few survivors had learned
the bitter need of caution at every step. But the destructive ingenuity
of man knew no bounds, and their numbers continued to dwindle.

[Illustration]

The old Coyote quit the trail very soon, for nothing that man has made
is friendly. She skirted along a low ridge, then across a little hollow
where grew a few buffalo-bushes, and, after a careful sniff at a very
stale human trail-scent, she crossed another near ridge on whose sunny
side was the home of her brood. Again she cautiously circled, peered
about, and sniffed, but, finding no sign of danger, went down to
the doorway and uttered a low _woof-woof._ Out of the den, beside a
sage-bush, there poured a procession of little Coyotes, merrily tumbling
over one another. Then, barking little barks and growling little puppy
growls, they fell upon the feast that their mother had brought, and
gobbled and tussled while she looked on and enjoyed their joy.

Wolver Jake, the cow-boy, had awakened from his chilly sleep about
sunrise, in time to catch a glimpse of the Coyote passing over the
ridge. As soon as she was out of sight he got on his feet and went
to the edge, there to witness the interesting scene of the family
breakfasting and frisking about within a few yards of him, utterly
unconscious of any danger.

But the only appeal the scene had to him lay in the fact that the county
had set a price on every one of these Coyotes' lives. So he got out
his big .45 navy revolver, and notwithstanding his shaky condition, he
managed somehow to get a sight on the mother as she was caressing one of
the little ones that had finished its breakfast, and shot her dead on
the spot.

The terrified cubs fled into the den, and Jake, failing to kill another
with his revolver, came forward, blocked up the hole with stones,
and leaving the seven little prisoners quaking at the far end, set off
on foot for the nearest ranch, cursing his faithless Horse as he went.

In the afternoon he returned with his pard and tools for digging. The
little ones had cowered all day in the darkened hole, wondering why
their mother did not come to feed them, wondering at the darkness and
the change. But late that day they heard sounds at the door. Then light
was again let in. Some of the less cautious young ones ran forward to
meet their mother, but their mother was not there--only two great rough
brutes that began tearing open their home.

[Illustration]

After an hour or more the diggers came to the end of the den, and here
were the woolly, bright-eyed, little ones, all huddled in a pile at the
farthest corner. Their innocent puppy faces and ways were not noticed
by the huge enemy. One by one they were seized. A sharp blow, and each
quivering, limp form was thrown into a sack to be carried to the nearest
magistrate who was empowered to pay the bounties.

Even at this stage there was a certain individuality of character among
the puppies. Some of them squealed and some of them growled when dragged
out to die. One or two tried to bite. The one that had been slowest to
comprehend the danger, had been the last to retreat, and so was on top
of the pile, and therefore the first killed. The one that had first
realized the peril had retreated first, and now crouched at the bottom
of the pile. Coolly and remorselessly the others were killed one by
one, and then this prudent little puppy was seen to be the last of the
family. It lay perfectly still, even when touched, its eyes being half
closed, as, guided by instinct, it tried to "play possum." One of the
men picked it up. It neither squealed nor resisted. Then Jake, realizing
ever the importance of "standing in with the boss," said: "Say, let's
keep that 'un for the children." So the last of the family was thrown
alive into the same bag with its dead brothers, and, bruised and
frightened, lay there very still, understanding nothing, knowing only
that after a long time of great noise and cruel jolting it was again
half strangled by a grip on its neck and dragged out, where were a lot
of creatures like the diggers.

These were really the inhabitants of the Chimneypot Ranch, whose brand
is the Broad-arrow; and among them were the children for whom the cub
had been brought. The boss had no difficulty in getting Jake to accept
the dollar that the cub Coyote would have brought in bounty-money,
and his present was turned over to the children. In answer to their
question, "What is it?" a Mexican cow-hand, present said it was a
Coyotito--that is, a "little Coyote,"--and this, afterward shortened to
"Tito," became the captive's name.

[Illustration]




II


Tito was a pretty little creature, with woolly body, a puppy-like
expression, and a head that was singularly broad between the ears.

But, as a children's pet, she--for it proved to be a female--was not a
success. She was distant and distrustful. She ate her food and seemed
healthy, but never responded to friendly advances; never [Illustration:
Coyotito, the Captive] even learned to come out of the box when called.
This probably was due to the fact that the kindness of the small
children was offset by the roughness of the men and boys, who did not
hesitate to drag her out by the chain when they wished to see her. On
these occasions she would suffer in silence, playing possum, shamming
dead, for she seemed to know that that was the best thing to do. But as
soon as released she would once more retire into the darkest corner of
her box, and watch her tormentors with eyes that, at the proper angle,
showed a telling glint of green.

[Illustration]

Among the children of the ranchmen was a thirteen-year-old boy.
The fact that he grew up to be like his father, a kind, strong, and
thoughtful man, did not prevent him being, at this age, a shameless
little brute.

Like all boys in that country, he practised lasso-throwing, with a view
to being a cow-boy. Posts and stumps are uninteresting things to catch.
His little brothers and sisters were under special protection of the
Home Government. The Dogs ran far away whenever they saw him coming with
the rope in his hands. So he must needs practise on the unfortunate
Coyotito. She soon learned that her only hope for peace was to hide in
the kennel, or, if thrown at when outside, to dodge the rope by lying as
flat as possible on the ground. Thus Lincoln unwittingly taught the
Coyote the dangers and limitations of a rope, and so he proved a
blessing in disguise--a very perfect disguise. When the Coyote had
thoroughly learned how to baffle the lasso, the boy terror devised a new
amusement. He got a large trap of the kind known as "Fox-size." This he
set in the dust as he had seen Jake set a Wolf-trap, close to the
kennel, and over it he scattered scraps of meat, in the most approved
style for Wolf-trapping. After a while Tito, drawn by the smell of the
meat, came hungrily sneaking out toward it, and almost immediately was
caught in the trap by one foot. The boy terror was watching from a near
hiding-place. He gave a wild Indian whoop of delight, then rushed
forward to drag the Coyote out of the box into which she had retreated.
After some more delightful thrills of excitement and struggle he got his
lasso on Tito's body, and, helped by a younger brother, a most promising
pupil, he succeeded in setting the Coyote free from the trap before the
grown-ups had discovered his amusement. One or two experiences like this
taught her a mortal terror of traps. She soon learned the smell of the
steel, and could detect and avoid it, no matter how cleverly Master
Lincoln might bury it in the dust while the younger brother screened the
operation from the intended victim by holding his coat over the door of
Tito's kennel.

[Illustration]

One day the fastening of her chain gave way, and Tito went off in an
uncertain fashion, trailing her chain behind her. But she was seen by
one of the men, who fired a charge of bird-shot at her. The burning,
stinging, and surprise of it all caused her to retreat to the one place
she knew, her own kennel. The chain was fastened again, and Tito added
to her ideas this, a horror of guns and the smell of gunpowder; and this
also, that the one safety from them is to "lay low."

[Illustration]

There were yet other rude experiences in store for the captive.

Poisoning Wolves was a topic of daily talk at the Ranch, so it was not
surprising that Lincoln should privately experiment on Coyotito. The
deadly strychnine was too well guarded to be available. So Lincoln hid
some Rough on Rats in a piece of meat, threw it to the captive, and
sat by to watch, as blithe and conscience-clear as any professor of
chemistry trying a new combination.

Tito smelled the meat--everything had to be passed on by her nose.
Her nose was in doubt. There was a good smell of meat, a familiar but
unpleasant smell of human hands, and a strange new odour, but not the
odour of the trap; so she bolted the morsel. Within a few minutes began
to have fearful pains in stomach, followed by cramps. Now in all the
Wolf tribe there is the instinctive habit to throw up anything that
disagrees with them, and after a minute or two of suffering the Coyote
sought relief in this way; and to make it doubly sure she hastily
gobbled some blades of grass, and in less than an hour was quite well
again.

[Illustration]

Lincoln had put in poison enough for a dozen Coyotes. Had he put in less
she could not have felt the pang till too late, but she recovered and
never forgot that peculiar smell that means such awful after-pains. More
than that, she was ready thenceforth to fly at once to the herbal cure
that Nature had everywhere provided. An instinct of this kind grows
quickly, once followed. It had taken minutes of suffering in the first
place to drive her to the easement. Thenceforth, having learned, it
was her first thought on feeling pain. The little miscreant did indeed
succeed in having her swallow another bait with a small dose of poison,
but she knew what to do now and had almost no suffering.

Later on, a relative sent Lincoln a Bull-terrier, and the new
combination was a fresh source of spectacular interest for the boy, and
of tribulation for the Coyote. It all emphasized for her that old idea
to "lay low"--that is, to be quiet, unobtrusive, and hide when danger
is in sight. The grown-ups of the household at length forbade these
persecutions, and the Terrier was kept away from the little yard where
the Coyote was chained up.

[Illustration]

It must not be supposed that, in all this, Tito was a sweet, innocent
victim. She had learned to bite. She had caught and killed several
chickens by shamming sleep while they ventured to forage within the
radius of her chain. And she had an inborn hankering to sing a morning
and evening hymn, which procured for her many beatings. But she learned
to shut up, the moment her opening notes were followed by a rattle of
doors or windows, for these sounds of human nearness had frequently been
followed by a "_bang_" and a charge of bird-shot, which somehow did no
serious harm, though it severely stung her hide. And these experiences
all helped to deepen her terror of guns and of those who used them. The
object of these musical outpourings was not clear. They happened usually
at dawn or dusk, but sometimes a loud noise at high noon would set her
going. The song consisted of a volley of short barks, mixed with doleful
squalls that never failed to set the Dogs astir in a responsive uproar,
and once or twice had begotten a far-away answer from some wild Coyote
in the hills.