Chapter VIII

The Death of Old Double Killer

I WAS right: I could hear the prowler’s breathing as well as his soft footsteps. He was almost to the head of my bunk, and, oh, how I wanted to spring out of it and run for the shelter of the spruces, there where our Hopi was. I gritted my teeth together and held my breath; my eyelids were trembling so that I had to close them for an instant, and when I slightly opened them, there, not three feet from my head and considerably higher from the ground, was the head of a monster bear. It was turned toward me; the mean little eyes were staring right into my face and the wet, black snout was all wiggly, sniffing the air, and I knew at once that old Double Killer himself was staring at me, for no other bear’s head could be as large as that. The talk of our mountain hunters dashed through my mind, and I knew that I must not risk a shot at him; that my one chance to live was to lie perfectly still. And maybe that was n’t hard to do! Then slowly the head turned from me, moved forward, and the whole body of the bear came into view, a body as big as that of a steer, and covered with heavy, dark, silver-tipped fur, except that along the back still clung to the new growth some ragged patches of the winter coat. As the bear moved forward his fur, his whole hide heaved and rippled at every step. It was queer that in my terrible fear of him I should notice that. But he made only three or four steps, and paused, half turned and again stared at me, and I thought that now my end was surely come, that he was about to spring upon me.

“Anyhow, I’ll die fighting,” I said to myself, and now gone a bit crazy, I guess, was just on the point of springing up and firing at him, when he suddenly threw up his head, made a quick whirl, and looked the other way. And then I saw what he did, the young Hopi stepping lightly toward us, with that old-time bow, arrow fitted, and half raised. I could hardly believe my eyes. If I had no chance against the bear with my rifle, what chance had he with his old bow and stone-tipped arrows?

My eyes were wide open now as I stared at him and tried to plan what I should do. I glanced at the bear and saw that the hair above his shoulders was stiffiy bristling forward, like that of an angry dog. And then I looked back at the Indian and saw him stop short, raise his bow and let fly at the bear, and turn and run for the timber from whence he had come. With a roar louder and madder than the bellow of a mad bull, the bear took after him, for the arrow had stung into him. I had distinctly heard its plunk.

Inside the cabin Hannah was now crying: “George! George! Where are you? What’s the trouble?”

“Quick! Open the door!” I shouted to her as I sprang from my bunk, and ran to the edge of the porch. By that time the Hopi was almost to the edge of the timber, and the bear was gaining upon him with wonderful long and quick leaps, but still all of forty yards behind. I raised my rifle and fired at the bear; and again; and a third time with more careful aim, and hit. With another awful roar that old bear suddenly squatted and twisted back and bit his rump where the bullet had struck into it, and I fired again at the dark mass of him, for at that distance and in the moonlight I could do no better. Well, what happened then was sure a surprise to me: with the crack of the rifle that bear just flopped straight out upon the ground and with never a roar, nor a grunt, even, jerked his legs a few times and lay still.

For a moment or two I just stood there and stared; somehow I could n’t think straight. It was Hannah who brought me to my senses.

“Why, George! You have killed him!” she cried. I had not heard her open the door, but there she was, wrapped in a big blanket, standing on the porch close beside me. “Why, I believe that I have killed him. And, oh, Hannah! He is old Double Killer!” I told her.

“You must be mistaken; it can’t be him!” she said.

I did not answer, for just then we heard strange singing; strange words to a queer, happy-sounding tune. It was our Hopi friend, singing and dancing from the spruces out to the bear. We ran across the clearing and joined him beside the body of the great beast. Paying no attention to us, he kept on singing for a moment or two, and then said: “I could not help it. I just had to sing that, our song of thanks to the gods for dangers safely passed.”

“Danger! I should say that you were in danger! Why did you come running out toward this great bear with just your bow and arrows “ I cried.

“Why, to save you! To get the bear away from your bunk. I thought that he was going to spring upon you. I was safe enough. I knew that I could get back here and up into one of these trees before he could overtake me,” he answered, as calmly as though what he had done was an every-day occurrence.

“Don’t think that I was asleep,” he went on. “The bear surely came from the west straight to the cabin, or I should have seen him when he entered the clearing. And did you notice: my unfeathered arrow struck him! Did n’t he roar! Let us see where the point went in.”

We found the point and a couple of inches of the broken shaft in the bear’s right shoulder, and saw that my last bullet had struck into the brain close in front of the base of the right ear. I stepped the length of the carcass and found that it was a little more than nine feet. Then with my hands I measured one of the hind paws: “ It is all of fourteen and a half inches!” I said. “There can be no doubt about it: this is old Double Killer, and no other!”

“Yes! And just think with that one last shot you earned two hundred dollars!” cried Hannah.

“How is that? The hide can’t be worth more than fifty dollars,” said the Hopi.

She told him about the reward offered by the cattlemen for the death of Double Killer, and why the bear had been so named. He turned to me: “How nice for you; that is a lot of money,” he said.

“Nice for the three of us; we each make about eighty dollars,” I answered; and how they smiled.

“I need the money!” Hannah exclaimed.

“Eighty dollars will go a long way toward paying the expense of my trip to Washington,” said our friend.

In our excitement we had forgotten all about our two-legged enemies, but now Hannah said that we were running no little risk, standing there in the open. We agreed that there was no help for it. The bear had to be skinned, and at once, or the hide would spoil.

Said the Hopi then: “I was tainted when I moved the Apache bones and the gun out of the kiva entrance. I cannot be worse tainted now by handling other whites’ things. Give me one of your knives and we’ll soon have this hide off.”

Hannah brought the knives from the cabin and we fell to work, she standing by and keeping a sharp watch on all parts of the clearing. We took great care not to cut the hide by a slip of our knives, and were a long time working at the head, and skinning the feet down to the long toe nails, which we took off with the hide. Day was breaking when we had it free from the carcass. It was so large and heavy that I could not lift it alone. We spread it out upon the ground, flesh side up, and admired its great length and breadth. And then our friend said that we were to leave the stretching and drying of it to him. We folded it, rolled it up, and Hannah brought soap, and we went to the spring and washed in the outlet. Refusing to eat with us, the Hopi then hurried off up top to wait upon his old men.

At eight o’clock, when Hannah and I got up to the lookout, we saw at once that the big fire had made considerable headway during the night. The forest was so dry that an army of men would be required to put it out, and men were not to be had so we learned by listening in, after I had made my nine o’clock report to the Supervisor. When I “Id him that we had killed old Double Killer, he sure was surprised, and pleased, and said that he would tell the secretary of the Cattle Association about it.

At ten o’clock, Mr. Keller, the secretary, called me up: “You’re sure you have potted that old Double Killer?” he asked.

“We sure have! His hide is nine feet long, and his hind feet fourteen and a half inches. White spot on the breast; several old, healed bullet wounds in the carcass,” I answered.

“Well, I guess that’s him, all right. You bring the hide down, when you get around to it, just for proof, you know, and I’ll give you our check for the two hundred dollar reward that we offered for him. Boy, you sure have done a good job in putting an end to that old cattle killer. How did you have the sand to tackle him?”

“Just had to do it, that’s all,” I answered; and he hung up. I had no intention to tell him about our Hopi friends and their strange mission to our mountain.

The young Hopi was going down the west slope of the mountain for wood and water for his priests, so we did not see him until noon, when he came to us and said that he was free until evening, and would go down with us, when we went to lunch, and put in the afternoon fleshing and stretching the bear hide. There was a lot of meat and fat on it. And then, there was the carcass to be burned, the quickest and best way to dispose of it. When we asked him what his old men were doing, he replied that they were making a lot of prayer sticks; saying certain prayers, singing certain songs to Rain God, and trying to get revealing dreams.

“Revealing dreams ? “ Hannah questioned.

“Yes. To priests – and sometimes to others – are now and then given dreams by which it is learned what is to happen, whether of good or bad to the dreamer, and to the Hopi people. I know that you do not believe in dreams – oh, well, wise though white people are, there are some things – strange things – that they have yet to learn,” he answered.

I made my noon report of no new fires, learned that the firebugs had not been found, and we went down to the cabin, expecting to find it ransacked, but saw at a glance that no more food had been taken. We cooked some slices of ham, fried potatoes, and baked a pan of biscuit, and this time, when Hannah asked our friend to eat with us, he replied that he would.

“I am so much tainted now,” he said, “that more will make no difference. Yes, I will eat with you”

During the meal I asked him how he was going to stretch the bear skin.

“You shall know when you return here this evening, and you will be pleased. If you have a spare length of rope, give it to me.”

I pulled the rope ladder from under the bunk and told him to help himself.

When Hannah and I returned to the lookout at one o’clock, she stood watch and I slept. Shortly after three o’clock she wakened me and said that J was wanted at the telephone, and laughed.

“What you laughing about? Who wants me?” I growled, still so sleepy that I could hardly get to the ‘phone. She only laughed again as she handed me the receiver. And then I recognized the voice of John La Motte, an old-time mountain man and trapper. “That you, George Crosby? Well, consarn yer pictur’, what you mean by killin’ my bear, that there old Double Killer, an’ me after him for the last four years?”

“I’m sure sorry, John,” I answered. “‘Course, if I’d known he was your bear, I would n’t have dreamed of shooting at him.”

“Haw-haw-haw!” he roared. “But, say, all joshin’ aside, how on yearth did you manage to put it over on him “

“I was sleeping outside, up against the cabin wall, and along about two o’clock he came prowling along and stopped within three feet of my bunk, and went on a few steps and stopped and looked back at me, and then went on, and when he was part-way across the clearing I wounded him, and then put a bullet into his brain. Of course I know that it was only by chance that I got him – I could n’t aim at his head in the moonlight –”

“Sufferin’ cactus an’ cat’s-claws!” the old man broke in. “I should say ‘t was a scratch! Why, boy! It’s the greatest wonder on yearth that he did n’t jump you right there in your bunk! Wa’n’t you plumb scared?”

“I sure was! Hardly over it now!”

“Well, seein’ ‘t wa’n’t fer me to get him, I’m sure glad he’s your’n. Wish’t I was up your way, free an’ easy. ‘Stead of that, here I be, roped into fightin’ this big fire! Fit it all night, got to fight it again to-night! Well, boy, you take good care of your bear hide – it’s sure worth a hundred dollars – an’ then, you get the two hundred reward. Well, so long, boy!”

“Wait ! “ I cried. “What about the firebugs –”

“Them firebugs are sure slick!” he broke in. “The sheriff’s men and them there Apache police ain’t findin’ ‘em. ‘Course, I don’t blame the sheriff’s outfit – white men are no trailers. But them Apaches, why, boy, they can trail a deer over bare rocks! They just natch’ally don’t want to find them outlaws, because why: they’re plumb ag’in’ law an’ order! Trouble amongst us whites is sure duck soup to them!”

“Are you making any headway with the fire?”

I asked.

“Some. She’s sure a big one, and the forest is mighty dry. But if the wind don’t raise, I b’lieve we’ll have her out in four or five days. Well, so long!”

“So long!” I answered, and hung up.

Hannah had been standing close beside me, listening to our talk. “The old trapper is right,” she said. “You have had a narrow escape from that terrible bear!” She shivered.

“I know it! I sure know it!” I answered. And did n’t have to shut my eyes to again see that huge, mean-eyed head close in front of me.

Just before five o’clock we saw our Hopi friend come up on top and go on to the north end of the mountain to wait upon his old men. How we wished that we might see what they were doing in the cave! We presently noticed a thin drift of smoke coming up over the crest above it, and wondered how the old men could breathe when there was a fire in the cave.

When we got down to the cabin that evening, we found the bear hide stretched and laced with shreds of rope into a frame of four stout poles leaning against the north side of the cabin – extending up to the very peak of it. Every bit of meat and fat had been removed, leaving the flesh side evenly dark-colored and as smooth as a piece of polished wood. We stood admiring it for some time. I thought of the coyote, and wolf, and wild-cat skins I had stretched upon the side of our barn to dry: all askew, and heavy with meat and fat, and was ashamed of my crude work.

“Just the other day,” said Hannah, “I read about an annual fur sale in St. Louis. I did n’t read it carefully, but, as I remember, grizzly bear skins sold for two hundred dollars. I believe we can get that much for ours.”

“We might, if we only knew where to send it.”

“We must know. When we go home we’ll look in the papers for the addresses of fur-buyers,” she said.

And from that moment the possibility of getting that big sum for the hide was always in our minds. When the Hopi came down to us, at sunset, we told him about it, and I said that two hundred dollars seemed to be a lot of money for a bear hide, and he laughed :

“You have never been to Grand Canyon” he asked. “No? Well, I have, several times. There is always a crowd of rich people at that place, people who spend money as carelessly as I would take up a handful of sand and cast it to the winds. I once saw ten hundred dollars paid there for a little painting, just a little painting of the cliff of Oraibi, and an old Hopi man sitting on it and looking off at the desert. I saw there a large painting of the Canyon that was sold for twenty thousand dollars. If I had the bear hide there, I believe that I could sell it at once for twice two hundred dollars!”

I’ll bet that Hannah and I gasped when he told us that ! For he looked at us and laughed, and went on: “In the big hotel at the Canyon, one can have meals and a small room for about ten dollars a day, and better rooms with a bathroom, for twenty-five dollars a day. The better rooms are always taken: that shows you how much many white people care for money.”

“You take the bear hide there and sell it, and send us our share of the money,” I told him.

“I’ll do it, just as soon as I get my old men safely home,” he answered.

We had waited supper for him, and now, while we ate, our Indian friend told us a lot about his school life in the East, and the big cities he had seen, Chicago, New York, Philadelphia, and Washington. He kept us so interested that we hardly knew what we were putting into our mouths, and once I mistook the salt cup for my tea cup and sure got a surprise.

Later on, after we had washed the dishes, we asked how his old men were getting on in the cave, and how they managed to endure a fire in it?

“Oh, they are doing fine, and are very happy,” he answered. “There is a narrow crack in the rock, running from the roof of the kiva into the hole going down to the Under World, and that carries off the smoke. They are very comfortable in there. They have said many of their prayers, and sung the songs that go with them, and last night White Deer had a revealing dream: he dreamed that he was in a great rainstorm out upon the desert; that he saw heavy rain falling upon our plantings at the foot of the cliffs of Oraibi. That is a pretty sure sign the Rain God is taking pity upon us, that he will soon give us what water we need.”

“If he does, he will also be doing us a good turn: he will put out our terrible forest fires,” said Hannah, with a laughing toss of her head.

“Oh, please don’t laugh at us! “ our friend cried. “We do not laugh at your beliefs; we are very willing that you shall have your gods and believe in them, so do that much for us!”

“Oh, you misunderstand me!” she told him. “I was n’t laughing at your beliefs. I was thinking how a big rain would put an end to the awful work of the fire-setters.”

“That, also, my priests are praying Rain God to do,” he solemnly answered.

As I had had some sleep during the day, I took the first watch that night, while our friend slept on the porch, wrapped in his blanket. At midnight I called him, as agreed upon, and he stood watch for the remainder of the night. Nothing happened. Day came, we had an early breakfast, and then went up on top, Hannah and I to the lookout, the Hopi to his old men. We had no sooner climbed to the top of the little butte than we saw that the fire-bugs had again been busy during the night: a thick column of black smoke was rising from a point about two miles south of the big fires, and there was still another fire started to the west of Green’s Peak. And this morning there was again a brisk wind! We felt blue enough as we looked down upon the mean work of the I.W.W. firebugs. How bold they were, and how cunning, setting the fires right where many men were constantly searching for them, and managing day after day to keep themselves safely hidden. The telephone called me, and the Supervisor said: “Hurry up to the lookout, George, and chart some new fires that are burning.”

“We are on top. In the lookout! Wait, I’ll give you the readings,” I answered.

Hannah was already at the chart stand. She made the sightings, told me the degrees, and I repeated them.

And then the Supervisor said, more to himself than to me, I thought: “I don’t know what to do! I can’t get more men, oh, this is sure terrible!”

I wanted to ask him if there were any traces of the firebugs, but he rang off. Later on, we learned by listening in that the sheriff’s men could not find even a footprint of them. We went outside and sat for hours looking down upon the forest and trying to think just where the fire-setters might be hiding. As they were afoot, we believed that they were cached somewhere within five miles of the sawmill. But where – just where?

The wind that we dreaded proved to be only an early morning breeze; it died completely out before ten o’clock and the day turned warm even up where we were. By noon the great desert to the north was lost in the heat waves rising from it. We had brought a lunch this day, and asked the young Hopi to share it with us. When he came, a little after twelve, he was very silent and anxious, we thought, and finally Hannah asked what was troubling him.

He pointed to the northwest: “Our poor plantings are drying up, out there! If Rain God does not soon answer our prayers, we shall starve!” he answered.

“Yes. And we shall lose our forest, and starve along with our cattle,” I told him.

“To-morrow is to be our great day. To-morrow my priests make their offerings, and sing and dance to Rain God, and you shall see them do it,” he said.