In three seconds he was there, in two
seconds he was over, and in one second he dashed through the running,
scattering mob and was making for the hills as fast as his strong and
supple legs could carry him. Women screamed, men yelled, and dogs
barked; there was a wild dash for the horses tied far from the scene
of the fight, to spare their nerves, but the Grizzly had three hundred
yards' start, five hundred yards even, and before the gala mob gave
out a long and flying column of reckless, riotous riders, the Grizzly
had plunged into the river, a flood no dog cared to face, and had
reached the chaparral and the broken ground in line for the piney
hills. In an hour the ranch hotel, with its galling chain, its
cruelties, and its brutal human beings, was a thing of the past, shut
out by the hills of his youth, cut off by the river of his cub-hood,
the river grown from the rill born in his birthplace away in Tallac's
pines. That Fourth of July was a glorious Fourth--it was Independence
Day for Grizzly Jack.
VI. THE BROKEN DAM
A wounded deer usually works downhill, a hunted Grizzly climbs. Jack
knew nothing of the country, but he did know that he wanted to get
away from that mob, so he sought the roughest ground, and climbed and
climbed.
He had been alone for hours, traveling up and on. The plain was lost
to view. He was among the granite rocks, the pine trees, and the
berries now, and he gathered in food from the low bushes with
dexterous paws and tongue as he traveled, but stopped not at all until
among the tumbled rock, where the sun heat of the afternoon seemed to
command rather than invite him to rest.
Pages:
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37