It was in the very middle of the day—a sultry day, when the sun was blazing hot—that we were awakened1 by the sound of somebody coming through the bushes. The wind was blowing towards us, so that long before he came in sight we knew that it was a bear like ourselves. But what was a bear doing abroad at high noon of such a day, and crashing through the bushes in that headlong fashion? Something extraordinary[26] must have happened to him, and we soon learned that indeed something had.
Coming plunging2 downhill with the wind behind him, he was right on us before he knew we were there. He was one of our brown cousins—a cinnamon—and we saw at once that he was hurt, for he was going on three legs, holding his left fore-paw off the ground. It was covered with blood and hung limply, showing that the bone was broken. He was so nervous that at sight of us he threw himself up on his haunches and prepared to fight; but we all felt sorry for him, and he soon quieted down.
‘Whatever has happened to you?’ asked my father, while we others sat and listened.
‘Man!’ replied Cinnamon, with a growl3 that made my blood run cold.
Man! Father had told us of man, but he had never seen him; nor had his father or his grandfather before him. Man had never visited our part of the mountains, as far as we knew, but stories of him we had heard in plenty. They had been handed down in our family from generation to generation, from the days when our ancestors lived far away from our present abiding-place; and every year, too, the animals that left the mountains[27] when the snow came brought us back stories of man in the spring. The coyotes knew him and feared him; the deer knew him and trembled at his very name; the pumas4 knew him and both feared and hated him. Everyone who knew him seemed to fear him, and we had caught the fear from them, and feared him, too, and had blessed ourselves that he did not come near us.
And now he was here! And poor Cinnamon’s shattered leg was evidence that his evil reputation was not unjustified.
Then Cinnamon told us his story.
He had lived, like his father and grandfather before him, some miles away on the other side of the high range of mountains behind us; and there he had considered himself as safe from man as we on our side had supposed ourselves to be. But that spring when he awoke he found that during the winter the men had come. They were few in the beginning, he said, and he had first heard of them as being some miles away. But more came, and ever more; and as they came they pushed further and further into the mountains. What they were doing he did not know, but they kept for the most part along by the streams, where they dug holes everywhere. No, they did not live in[28] the holes. They built themselves places to live in out of trees which they cut down and chopped into lengths and piled together. Why they did that, when it was so much easier to dig comfortable holes in the hillside, he did not know; but they did. And they did not cut down the trees with their teeth like beavers5, but took sticks in their hands and beat them till they fell!
Yes, it was true about the fires they made. They made them every day and all the time, usually just outside the houses that they built of the chopped trees. The fires were terrible to look at, but the men did not seem to be afraid of them. They stood quite close to them, especially in the evenings, and burned their food in them before they ate it.
We had heard this before, but had not believed it. And it was true, after all! What was still more wonderful, Cinnamon said that he had gone down at night, when the men were all asleep in their chopped-tree houses, and, sniffing7 round, had found pieces of this burnt food lying about, and eaten them, and—they were very good! So good were they that, incredible as it might seem, Cinnamon had gone again and again, night after night, to look for scraps8 that had been left lying about.
[29]
On the previous night he had gone down as usual after the men, as he supposed, were all asleep, but he was arrested before he got to the houses themselves by a strong smell of the burnt food somewhere close by him. The men, he explained, had cut down the trees nearest to the stream to build their houses with, so that between the edge of the forest and the water there was an open space dotted with the stumps10 of the trees that had been felled, which stuck up as high as a bear’s shoulder from the ground. It was just at the edge of this open space that he smelled the burnt food, and, sure enough, on one of the nearest stumps there was a bigger lump of it than any he had ever seen. Naturally, he went straight up to it.
Just as he got to it he heard a movement between him and the houses, and, looking round, he saw a man lying flat on the ground in such a way that he had hitherto been hidden by another stump9. As Cinnamon looked he saw the man point something at him (yes, unquestionably, the dreadful thing we had heard of—the thunder-stick—with which man kills at long distances), and in a moment there was a flash of flame and a noise like a big tree breaking in the wind, and something[30] hit his leg and smashed it, as we could see. It hurt horribly, and Cinnamon turned at once and plunged11 into the wood. As he did so there was a second flash and roar, and something hit a tree-trunk within a foot of his head, and sent splinters flying in every direction.
Since then Cinnamon had been trying only to get away. His foot hurt him so that he had been obliged to be down for a few hours in the bushes during the morning; but now he was pushing on again, only anxious to go somewhere as far away from man as possible.
While he was talking, my mother had been licking his wounded foot, while father sat up on his haunches, with his nose buried in the fur of his chest, grumbling12 and growling13 to himself, as his way was when he was very much annoyed. I have the same trick, which I suppose I inherited from him. We cubs15 sat shivering and whimpering, and listening terror-stricken to the awful story.
What was to be done now? That was the question. How far away, we asked, were the men? Well, it was about midnight when Cinnamon was wounded, and now it was noon. Except the three or four hours that he had lain[31] in the bushes, he had been travelling in a straight line all the time, as fast as he could with his broken leg. And did men travel fast? No; they moved very slowly, and always on their hind-legs. Cinnamon had never seen one go on all fours, though that seemed to him as ridiculous as their building houses of chopped trees instead of making holes in the ground. They very rarely went about at night, and Cinnamon did not believe any of them had followed him, so there was probably no immediate16 danger. Moreover, Cinnamon explained, they seldom moved far away from the streams, and they made a great deal of noise wherever they went, so that it was easy to hear them. Besides which, you could smell them a long way off. It did not matter if you had never smelled it before: any bear would know the man-smell by the first whiff he got of it.
All this was somewhat consoling. It made the danger a little more remote, and, especially, it reduced the chance of our being taken by surprise. Still, the situation was bad enough as it stood, for the news changed the whole colour and current of our lives. Hitherto we had gone without fear where we would, careless of anything but our own inclinations17. Now a sudden terror had arisen, that[32] threw a shadow over every minute of the day and night. Man was near—man, who seemed to love to kill, and who could kill; not by his strength, but by virtue18 of some cunning which we could neither combat nor understand. Thereafter, though perhaps man’s name might not be mentioned between us from one day to another, I do not think there was a minute when we were not all more or less on the alert, with ears and nostrils19 open for an indication of his dreaded20 presence.
Though Cinnamon thought we could safely stay where we were, he proposed himself to push on, further away from the neighbourhood of the hated human beings. In any emergency he would be sadly crippled by his broken leg, and—at least till that was healed—he preferred to be as remote from danger as possible.
After he was gone my father and mother held council. There was no more sleep for us that day, and in the evening, when we started out on our regular search for food, it was very cautiously, and with nerves all on the jump. It was a trying night. We went warily21, with our heads ever turned up-wind, hardly daring to dig for a root lest the sound of our digging should fill our ears so that we would not hear man’s approach; and[33] when I stripped a bit of bark from a fallen log to look for beetles22 underneath23, and it crackled noisily as it came away, my father growled24 angrily at me and mother cuffed25 me from behind.
I remember, though, that they shared the beetles between them.
I need not dwell on the days of anxiety that followed. I do not remember them much myself, except that they were very long and nerve-racking. I will tell you at once how it was that we first actually came in contact with man himself.
In the course of my life I have reached the conclusion that nearly all the troubles that come to animals are the result of one of two things—either of their greediness or their curiosity. It was curiosity which led me into the difficulty with Porcupine26. It was Cinnamon’s greediness that got his leg broken for him. Our first coming in contact with man was the result, I am afraid, of both—but chiefly of our curiosity.
During the days that followed our meeting with Cinnamon, while we were moving about so cautiously, we were also all the time (and, though we never mentioned the fact, we all knew that we were) gradually working nearer to the place where Cinnamon had told us that man was. I knew what[34] was happening, but would not have mentioned it for worlds, lest if we talked about it we should change our direction. And I wanted—yes, in spite of his terrors—I wanted to see man just once. Also—I may as well confess it—there were memories of what Cinnamon had said of that wonderful burnt food.
Some ten or twelve days must have passed in this way, when one morning, after we had been abroad for three or four hours, and the sun was just getting up, we heard a noise such as we had never heard before. Chuck! chuck! chuck! chuck! It came at regular intervals27 for a while, then stopped and began again. What could it be? It was not the noise of a woodpecker, nor that which a beaver6 makes with its tail. Chuck! chuck! chuck! chuck! It was not the clucking of a grouse28, though perhaps more like that than anything else, but different, somehow, in quality. Chuck! chuck! chuck! chuck! I think we all knew in our hearts that it had something to do with man.
The noise came from not far away, but the wind was blowing across us. So we made a circle till it blew from the noise to us; and suddenly in one whiff we all knew that it was man. I felt my[35] skin crawling up my spine29, and I saw my father’s nose go down into his chest, while the hair on his neck and shoulders stood out as it only could do in moments of intense excitement.
Slowly, very slowly, we moved towards the noise, until at last we were so close that the smell grew almost overpowering. But still we could not see him, because of the brushwood. Then we came to a fallen log and, carefully and silently we stepped on to it—my father and mother first, then I, then Kahwa. Now, by standing30 up on our hind-feet, our heads—even mine and Kahwa’s—were clear of the bushes, and there, not fifty yards away from us, was man. He was chopping down a tree, and that was the noise that we had heard. He did not see us, being too intent on his work. Chuck! chuck! chuck! chuck! He was striking steadily31 at the tree with what I now know was an axe32, but which at the time we all supposed to be a thunder-stick, and at each blow the splinters of wood flew just as Cinnamon had told us. After a while he stopped, and stooped to pick something off the ground. This hid him from my sight, and from Kahwa’s also, so she strained up on her tiptoes to get another look at him. In doing so her feet slipped on the bark of the log, and down she came with a crash[36] that could have been heard at twice his distance from us, even if the shock had not knocked a loud ‘Wooff!’ out of her as she fell. The man instantly stood up and turned round, and, of course, found himself staring straight into our three faces.
He did not hesitate a moment, but dropped his axe and ran. I think he ran as fast as he could, but what Cinnamon said was true: he went, of course, on his hind-legs, and did not travel fast. It was downhill, and running on your hind-legs for any distance downhill is an awkward performance at best.
We, of course, followed our impulse, and went after him. We did not want him in the least. We would not have known what to do with him if we had him. But you know how impossible it is to resist chasing anything that runs away from you. We could easily have caught him had we wished to, but why should we? Besides, he might still have another thunder-stick concealed33 about him. So we just ran fast enough to keep him running. And as we ran, crashing through the bushes, galloping35 down the hill, with his head rising and falling as he leaped along ahead of us, the absurdity36 of it got hold of me, and I yelped37 with excitement[37] and delight. To be chasing man, of all things living—man—like this! And I could hear my father ‘wooffing’ to himself at each gallop34 with amusement and satisfaction.
Very soon, however, we smelled more men. Then we slowed down, and presently there came in sight what we knew must be one of the chopped-tree houses. So we stood and watched, while the man, still running as if we were at his very heels, tore up to the house, and out from behind it came three or four others. We could see them brandishing38 their arms and talking very excitedly. Then two of them plunged into the house, and came out with—yes, there could be no doubt of it; these were the real things—the dreaded thunder-sticks themselves.
Then we knew that it was our turn to run; and we ran.
Back up the hill we went, much faster than we had come down; for we were running for our own lives now, and bears like running uphill best. On and on we went, as fast as we could go. We had no idea at how long a distance man could hit us with the thunder-sticks, but we preferred to be on the safe side, and it must have been at least two hours before we stopped for a moment to take[38] breath. And when a bear is in a hurry, two hours, even for a cub14, mean more than twenty miles.
So it was that we first met man. And how absurdly different from what in our terrified imaginations we had pictured it!
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1
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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2
plunging
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| adj.跳进的，突进的v.颠簸( plunge的现在分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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3
growl
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| v.（狗等）嗥叫，（炮等）轰鸣；n.嗥叫，轰鸣 | |
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4
pumas
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| n.美洲狮( puma的名词复数 )；彪马；于1948年成立于德国荷索金劳勒(Herzogenaurach)的国际运动品牌；创始人：鲁道夫及达斯勒。 | |
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5
beavers
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| 海狸( beaver的名词复数 )； 海狸皮毛； 棕灰色； 拼命工作的人 | |
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6
beaver
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| n.海狸，河狸 | |
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7
sniffing
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| n.探查法v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的现在分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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8
scraps
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| 油渣 | |
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9
stump
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| n.残株，烟蒂，讲演台；v.砍断，蹒跚而走 | |
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10
stumps
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| （被砍下的树的）树桩( stump的名词复数 )； 残肢； （板球三柱门的）柱； 残余部分 | |
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11
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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12
grumbling
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| adj. 喃喃鸣不平的, 出怨言的 | |
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13
growling
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| n.吠声, 咆哮声 v.怒吠, 咆哮, 吼 | |
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14
cub
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| n.幼兽，年轻无经验的人 | |
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15
cubs
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| n.幼小的兽，不懂规矩的年轻人( cub的名词复数 ) | |
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16
immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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17
inclinations
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| 倾向( inclination的名词复数 )； 倾斜； 爱好； 斜坡 | |
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18
virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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19
nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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20
dreaded
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| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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21
warily
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| adv.留心地 | |
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22
beetles
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| n.甲虫( beetle的名词复数 ) | |
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23
underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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24
growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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25
cuffed
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| v.掌打，拳打( cuff的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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26
porcupine
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| n.豪猪， 箭猪 | |
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27
intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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28
grouse
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| n.松鸡；v.牢骚，诉苦 | |
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29
spine
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| n.脊柱，脊椎；(动植物的)刺；书脊 | |
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30
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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31
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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32
axe
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| n.斧子；v.用斧头砍，削减 | |
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33
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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34
gallop
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| v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔；飞速发展 | |
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35
galloping
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| adj. 飞驰的, 急性的 动词gallop的现在分词形式 | |
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36
absurdity
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| n.荒谬，愚蠢；谬论 | |
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37
yelped
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| v.发出短而尖的叫声( yelp的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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38
brandishing
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| v.挥舞( brandish的现在分词 )；炫耀 | |
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