The Hunter Returns (14 page)

CAVE BEAR

The great cave bears were large and powerful, and as ferocious as saber-tooths when aroused. If a dozen hunters attacked one they could kill it, but somebody was almost sure to be hurt. For one man to attack a bear deliberately was unthinkable.

But Hawk had learned a valuable lesson from his encounter with the giant sloth. They were larger than bears, and though slow and stupid, they had enormous vitality. Since the dull-witted sloth had been disconcerted when smoke blew about its head, Hawk thought it might be possible to smoke the great cave bear out of its cave.

That would not be the end of it, he realized. The monster bear would not willingly relinquish its home and would get back in if it were possible. Such a beast, always lurking about and awaiting an opportunity to reenter, would be far too dangerous to leave around the cave. Therefore the bear would have to be killed.

Hawk reviewed his plan, in his mind going over and over each tiny detail. He knew that he must have everything right beforehand, because once the fight was started there would be no stopping it and even a minor slip could spell disaster.

As they approached the cave, Hawk gave Willow his torch, and told her to hold the dog. Then he went on alone.

He advanced cautiously, carefully staying downwind, until he could see the bear. It was outside the cave, busy ripping the lower branches off a tree laden so heavily with purple, meaty berries that some of the branches were already broken from the weight of the fruit alone. Hawk parted a leafy branch so he could see better.

The bear was about forty feet from the door of its cave, eating berries from a branch it had broken. It licked furry chops with a berry-stained tongue, and looked all around. Then it reared on its hind paws, braced its body against the tree, and ripped another branch down.

Hawk shivered, partly from excitement and partly from nervous fear. The bear was a monstrous beast, three-quarters of a ton of sheer brute strength. It would not be an easy thing to overcome.

The bear turned, silently and swiftly for all its bulk, and gazed steadily at the tree behind which Hawk lay. Some eddying breeze had carried an alien scent to it, or perhaps some deep-seated instinct had merely made it suspicious. At any rate it was alert, without being sure of just what might be trespassing on its domain.

Hawk slipped away. He moved slowly, always careful to place his feet so that he would make no noise and traveling with the wind. Conditions were as he had hoped to find them, and now he could put the rest of his plan into effect.

When there was sufficient distance between himself and the bear, Hawk ran swiftly back to Willow and the dog. He looked to his supply of darts, picked up his hand spear and throwing-stick, but left Willow with the torch. She fell in behind him when he started back toward the bear.

The dog trotted tensely by his side, sensing that they were after game which the man had already located. Furthermore, since the man kept the dog beside him, it would be dangerous game. Hawk stopped, and the dog stopped beside him, quivering with excitement.

The blazing torch in her hand, Willow waited questioningly. She, too, had a part in this or she would not have been brought along. But, like the dog, she did not as yet clearly understand what that part was. Hawk turned to her.

“The dog and I will drive the bear into the cave,” he explained. “Stay here with the torch until you hear me call. Then come as fast as you can and give the torch to me.”

“I understand.”

The dog at his side, Hawk slipped away. They came within the area where the bear’s scent could be detected, and the dog looked inquiringly at Hawk. The man did not turn aside and the dog moved two steps ahead of him, sure now of their quarry. Ordinarily they avoided creatures as powerful as this, but the dog was willing to fight anything as long as the man thought it should be fought.

Making no attempt at concealment, Hawk walked openly into the clearing in front of the cave.

Having scented or heard him, the bear was waiting. It stood at the foot of the tree from which it had been ripping branches, feet braced and tensely alert. Its ears were flicked forward, its eyes questioning, and its snout moving slowly from side to side. The bear took an uncertain step, and reared on its hind legs the better to see. Dropping to the ground, it stood still a moment more and then snarled, its jaws gaping wide. Hawk fitted a dart into his throwing-stick, shouted and bounded forward.

He stopped suddenly, for this was part of his plan. To wound the bear where it was, and to lack a place of refuge, would mean disaster. The bear must be driven into the cave and forced to take a temporary stand there. Hawk had started a false attack to incite the dog; he wanted him to go after the bear on his own initiative.

The dog snarled forward. Hawk halted, and stepped back with the dart still poised in his throwing-stick. If his plan went wrong now he would have to go in anyway and help the dog. He watched tensely.

The bear remained beneath the tree, snarling at the onrushing dog. Then, when less than twenty feet separated them, the bear wheeled and lumbered into its cave. It turned about in the entrance, knowing that it could defend itself there.

Hawk breathed easier. This was the way he had hoped it would work out. The bear would not run from a man, but it had been assaulted by at least one pack of wolves and, presumably, by wild dogs as well. It knew that it could stand them off if protected on three sides by the mouth of the cave.

The bear’s enormous head and front shoulders protruded from the cave. The dog leaped in and out again, never going near enough to be hit by one of those sledgehammer paws.

Keeping his throwing-stick beside him, and a dart ready, Hawk grasped a handful of dry grass, wrenched it loose, and laid it on the ground about twenty feet from the cave’s opening. A gust of wind scattered the little pile, and Hawk laid a dart on it to hold it. He gathered more dry grass, and more, until he had a great pile. Then he raced to a bit of nearby marshland, pulled up some swamp roots and damp muck, and laid them on top of the grass. Then he called Willow.

At the cave, the dog continued to harass the bear. He feinted, growling and barking, and leaped in to snap whenever an opportunity offered. But at no time did he put himself within reach of the bear’s paws, which would have broken his back as easily as a stone breaks an egg.

The blazing torch in her hand, Willow broke out of the forest and ran lightly into the clearing. Handing the torch to Hawk, she stepped back, cast about until she found two rocks, and held one in each hand while she awaited whatever came.

“Stay near the fire,” Hawk cautioned Willow. “Don’t leave it no matter what happens.”

He touched the torch to the great heap of dried grass he had gathered, and threw the torch on top of the pile. The sun-dried grass exploded in a roar of flame, and for a moment blazed high. Then, the readily combustible portion having burned out, thick yellow smoke rose from the wet swamp refuse. Hawk stepped back, his darts ready.

So far everything had worked well, even the wind’s direction and force. What happened now depended on whether or not he had been able to guess how a cave bear would react to smoke.

Like a large, elongated feather, yellow smoke curled toward the cave. It paused there, as though not quite knowing where to go, then sent an exploring finger into the cave. The bear backed up. In a moment it was almost hidden by smoke; only its furious snarls showed it was still there. Suddenly the bear came out.

Every hair on its body was erect, lending it an appearance of being much bigger than it was. Coughing, snapping its jaws continuously, roaring mad, it ran to one side of the fire, out of the smoke, whirled about, and faced the two humans. The dog bored in from the side, and the bear swung to slap ineffectively at him.

A dart ready, Hawk advanced. The crucial test had come; from now on it was up to him and the dog. Hawk hurled his dart with all his strength. It sang through the air, and buried half its length in the bear’s shaggy side.

The bear stood erect, a mountain of flesh that for a moment walked on its legs like a man. Dropping to all fours, it exploded its fury in a mighty, snarling roar, and charged.

Hawk retreated back toward the smoldering fire. In attacking the great cave bear, he had counted on the fire as a safe retreat. Now his reckoning was to endure the acid test; would fire stop a wounded, enraged bear?

A thick plume of smoke enveloped the oncoming bear. It stopped, shifting its forepaws uneasily, and backed up. The dog threw himself furiously upon it.

Another dart fixed in his throwing-stick, Hawk walked out of the smoke to where he could have a clear view. The bear, safely away from the smoke, was sparring with the dog. Hawk loped toward them, and when he was near enough he threw the dart. The bear turned, bawling its rage, and bit at the shaft protruding from its side. Then it threw itself at the dog.

Hawk readied another dart, and circled to get in good throwing position. Careful not to let the bear between himself and the smoke blanket, he threw the third dart.

The bear grunted, spun in an erratic circle, and struck with blind fury at a nearby clump of grass. As though that were its real foe, and the thing that had hurt it, it hit again and again until the grass was ripped to shreds. It lumbered to another grass tuft and destroyed that. When the dog came near it bellowed at him and in a series of insane hops tried to pin him between its front paws.

Hawk followed, ready to shoot another dart. But since he could not tell which way the wounded bear would leap or what it would attack, he dared not get too near.

The bear broke suddenly. Racing across the clearing in long leaps, it headed straight for the sheltering trees. Running, it was a terrifying sight. Blocky legs worked like swiftly moving pistons, carrying the bear’s huge body along so fast that even the pursuing dog was hard put to keep up.

Although the dog was barking and snarling continuously, the sounds of the running pursuit faded deeper and deeper into the forest. Hawk followed, confident now that his battle was won. The bear would run for a long way, probably, but the darts were sunken deeply and eventually they must take their toll of even such strength as the bear’s. It could not run on forever.

For as long as he could hear him, Hawk guided himself by the barking dog. When the noise faded in the distance, he ran along the plainly marked trail. Bright spots of blood showed on the leaves, with here and there a patch of coarse hair. Faintly, he heard the barking dog again.

He ran easily, fast enough to cover distance swiftly but not so fast that he would tire himself out. Five minutes after he was again within hearing of the dog, he came upon his quarry.

The great cave bear was backed against a tree, swaying from side to side, its front feet braced. When it saw the man it left the tree and lurched forward, growling hoarsely. Hawk stood still and fitted another dart. He could take his time now; the bear’s pace was a mere crawl. Hawk cast his dart.

Straight and true, it sailed to its mark. Still the bear tried to come forward. It had lived all its life by brute strength, and would fight as long as that life remained. The bear made one more valiant effort to crawl forward, then lay still.

Hawk remained where he was, troubled by an emotion he had never felt before. He lived in a world whose basic rule was kill or be killed, eat or be eaten, and he hunted and killed as much as he could because, if he did not, he could not continue to live. But he felt a strange sympathy for the bear, a stout and lonely creature like himself, which had given up only when there was nothing left with which to fight.

Solemnly Hawk approached the inert monster and intently studied the curving claws that were polished to ivory whiteness by almost constant digging for roots and small animals. He would keep those claws, he decided, and from now on would conduct himself as the bear had. When the time came, he too would fight with all his heart and strength.

But he had no time for further contemplation of the bear’s might; the grim business of simply staying alive was too pressing. The bear represented a great deal of value in both fur and food, and scavengers must not have it. Also, Willow was alone in the clearing and save for the fire she was defenseless. He must secure the bear and see to her safety.

He shredded tinder, adding kindling to it, struck a spark, and when the fire blazed he arranged green sticks on it. He piled them high, to arrange here a fire that would last until such time as he was able to return. While the fire burned, nothing would dare come near his prize. Then he called the dog to his side and trotted back to the cave.

Willow, who had built her own fire into a roaring blaze, waited expectantly beside it.

“The bear is dead,” Hawk told her. “It lies in the forest, well-guarded by fire.”

He went eagerly to the cave, the real prize for which he had dared challenge a great cave bear. Hesitantly he entered, and when the dog would have backed out Hawk pulled him roughly to his side and made him stay there. At the same time, he fought a growing desire to escape from the place himself. He had been born under a tree, and except for scattered occasions when his tribe had taken shelter in caves or under ledges, he had lived his whole life in the open. The cave made him nervous because he was confined. Still, the real purpose for which he had wanted it remained foremost in his thoughts.

Dimly illumined by the little daylight that filtered through the opening, the cave was roughly circular in shape and about thirty feet in diameter. Spear-shaped stalactites depended from the roof, but there was no evidence of dampness or water. To one side was the bed of leaves and sticks where the bear had slept.

Willow came in behind him. At first hesitantly, then eagerly, she explored the cave. Already she could foresee some of its possibilities as a home. More interested in its offer of safety, Hawk swung to look at the entrance.

The cave’s opening was somewhat taller than a man, and just wide enough so that anyone standing in it would have plenty of freedom for action. Any enemy would have to come through the entrance, and if there were more than one, only one at a time could attack. The place could easily be defended. A man on the inside could not possibly be overwhelmed from the sides or rear. It was a snug retreat, ideal for their purposes.