The Grizzly at Bay

Tearing down upon him in a rapid, lumbering gallop was a monstrous bear.  It needed no second glance to tell that it was a grizzly.  The little eyes incandescent with rage, the big hump just back of the ears, the enormous size and bulk could belong to none other than this dreaded king of the Rockies.

For an instant every drop of blood in Bert’s body seemed to rush to his head.  It suffused his eyes with a red film and sounded like thunder in his ears.  Then the flood receded and left him cold as ice.  He was himself again, cool, self-reliant, with his mental processes working like lightning.

He had no time to unfasten the canoe.  Long before he could get in and push off, the bear would have been on top of him.  The beast was not more than thirty feet away and two or three more lunges would bring him to the water’s edge.

Bert’s first impulse was to dive into the lake and seek to escape by swimming.  But this he discarded at once.  Fast as he was, he knew that the grizzly could outswim him.

With a quick turn to the left, he plunged into the woods, running like a deer.  The bear lost a second or two in trying to check his momentum.  Then he turned also and went crashing through the underbrush in pursuit.

Had the going been open Bert might have made good his escape.  His legs and wind had once won him a Marathon from the fleetest flyers of the world.  But here conditions were against him.  Vines reached out to trip him.  Impenetrable thickets turned him aside.  He had to dodge and twist and squirm his way through the undergrowth.

But the bear had no such handicaps.  His great body crashed straight through all obstacles.  The fearful padding of those monstrous feet came nearer and nearer.  Bert’s legs worked like piston rods, but to no avail.  The distance between them steadily decreased, and now he could hear the labored breathing of his enraged pursuer close on his heels.  It was like a hideous nightmare, and gradually the conviction began to force itself upon him that he was running his last race.  Once in the grip of that monster, nothing could save him from a frightful death.

But he would not give up.  The old “never say die” spirit that had carried him through so many tight places still persisted.  On, on, he ran, putting every ounce of speed and strength in one last spurt.  He could feel the hot breath of the grizzly and the padding feet were terribly near.  Then, just as the beast was ready to hurl its huge bulk against him, Bert swung on his heel like a pivot, doubled in his tracks and flashed back past his pursuer, just escaping a lunge from the outstretched paw.  But that marvelous swaying motion of the hips that had eluded so many tacklers on the football field stood him in stead, and he just grazed the enormous claw that tried to stop him.

That strategy proved his salvation.  The grizzly plunged along for many feet before he could turn, and in that instant’s respite Bert saw his chance.