Oh, it cast a potent spell! It
stood for something very near to ecstasy with him, and down the hill
and through the pines he went, on and on faster yet, abandoned to its
sorcery. Here to its home he traced it, a long, low cavern. He had
seen such many times before, had been held in them more than once, but
had learned to spurn them. For weeks he had been robbing them of their
treasures, and its odor, like a calling voice, was still his guide.
Into the cavern he passed and it reeked with the smell of joy. There
was the luscious mass, and Monarch, with all caution lulled now,
licked and licked, then seized to tear the bag for more, when down
went the door with a low "bang!" The Monarch started, but all was
still and there was no smell of danger. He had forced such doors
before. His palate craved the honey still, and he licked and licked,
greedily at first, then calmly, then slowly, then drowsily--then at
last stopped. His eyes were closing, and he sank slowly down on the
earth and slept a heavy sleep.
Calm, but white-faced, were they--the men--when in the dawn they came.
There were the huge scarred tracks in-leading; there was the door
down; there dimly they could see a mass of fur that filled the pen,
that heaved in deepest sleep.
Strong ropes, strong chains and bands of steel were at hand, with
chloroform, lest he should revive too soon. Through holes in the roof
with infinite toil they chained him, bound him--his paws to his neck,
his neck and breast and hind legs to a bolted beam.
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