<h2>PART II<br/> THE DAYS OF HIS STRENGTH</h2>
<div class="figright"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/page067.png" width-obs="40" height-obs="120" alt="" title="" /></div>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/i067.png" width-obs="110" height-obs="86" alt="" title="" /></div>
<h3><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</SPAN></span>I</h3>
<p><ANTIMG class="initial" src="images/initial_w.png" alt="" title="" /><span class="smcap">ahb's</span> third summer
had brought
him the stature of
a large-sized Bear,
though not nearly
the bulk and power that in time
were his. He was very light-colored
now, and this was why Spahwat,
a Shoshone Indian who more
than once hunted him, called him
the Whitebear, or Wahb.</p>
<div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/i070.png" width-obs="120" height-obs="150" alt="" title="" /></div>
<div class="figright"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/i072.png" width-obs="120" height-obs="200" alt="" title="" /></div>
<p>Spahwat was a good hunter, and
as soon as he saw the rubbing-tree
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</SPAN></span>
on the Upper Meteetsee he knew
that he was on the range of a big
Grizzly. He bushwhacked the
whole valley, and spent many days
before he found a chance to shoot;
then Wahb got a stinging flesh-wound
in the shoulder. He growled
horribly, but it had seemed to take
the fight out of him; he scrambled
up the valley and over the lower
hills till he reached a quiet haunt,
where he lay down.</p>
<p>His knowledge of healing was
wholly instinctive. He licked the
wound and all around it, and sought
to be quiet. The licking removed
the dirt, and by massage reduced
the inflammation, and it plastered
the hair down as a sort of dressing
over the wound to keep out the
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</SPAN></span>
air, dirt, and microbes. There
could be no better treatment.</p>
<div>
<SPAN name="image06" id="image06"></SPAN></div>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/image006.jpg" width-obs="413" height-obs="600" alt="" title="" /> <p class="caption center">"HE STRUCK ONE FEARFUL, CRUSHING BLOW."</p> </div>
<p>But the Indian was on his trail.
Before long the smell warned Wahb
that a foe was coming, so he quietly
climbed farther up the mountain
to another resting-place. But
again he sensed the Indian's approach,
and made off. Several
times this happened, and at length
there was a second shot and another
galling wound. Wahb was
furious now. There was nothing
that really frightened him but that
horrible odor of man, iron, and guns,
that he remembered from the day
when he lost his Mother; but now
all fear of these left him. He
heaved painfully up the mountain
again, and along under a six-foot
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</SPAN></span>
ledge, then up and back to the top
of the bank, where he lay flat. On
came the Indian, armed with knife
and gun; deftly, swiftly keeping on
the trail; gloating joyfully over each
bloody print that meant such anguish
to the hunted Bear. Straight
up the slide of broken rock he
came, where Wahb, ferocious with
pain, was waiting on the ledge. On
sneaked the dogged hunter; his
eye still scanned the bloody slots
or swept the woods ahead, but
never was raised to glance above
the ledge. And Wahb, as he saw
this shape of Death relentless on
his track, and smelled the hated
smell, poised his bulk at heavy
cost upon his quivering, mangled
arm, there held until the proper
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</SPAN></span>
instant came, then to his sound
arm's matchless native force he
added all the weight of desperate
hate as down he struck one fearful,
crushing blow. The Indian sank
without a cry, and then dropped
out of sight. Wahb rose, and
sought again a quiet nook where
he might nurse his wounds. Thus
he learned that one must fight for
peace; for he never saw that Indian
again, and he had time to rest
and recover.</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/i075.png" width-obs="400" height-obs="283" alt="" title="" /></div>
<hr />
<div class="figright"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/page076.png" width-obs="40" height-obs="120" alt="" title="" /></div>
<h3><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</SPAN></span>II</h3>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/i076.png" width-obs="400" height-obs="200" alt="" title="" /></div>
<p><ANTIMG class="initial" src="images/initial_t.png" alt="" title="" /><span class="smcap">he</span> years went on as
before, except that
each winter Wahb
slept less soundly,
and each spring he
came out earlier and was a bigger
Grizzly, with fewer enemies that
dared to face him. When his sixth
year came he was a very big, strong,
sullen Bear, with neither friendship
nor love in his life since that
evil day on the Lower Piney.</p>
<div class="figright"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/i077.png" width-obs="160" height-obs="98" alt="" title="" /></div>
<div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/i078.png" width-obs="80" height-obs="233" alt="" title="" /></div>
<p>No one ever heard of Wahb's
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</SPAN></span>
mate. No one believes that he ever
had one. The love-season of Bears
came and went year after year, but
left him alone in his prime as he
had been in his youth. It is not
good for a Bear to be alone; it is
bad for him in every way. His habitual
moroseness grew with his
strength, and any one chancing to
meet him now would have called
him a dangerous Grizzly.</p>
<p>He had lived in the Meteetsee
Valley since first he betook himself
there, and his character had
been shaped by many little adventures
with traps and his wild rivals
of the mountains. But there was
none of the latter that he now feared
and he knew enough to avoid the
first, for that penetrating odor of
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</SPAN></span>
man and iron was a never-failing
warning, especially after an experience
which befell him in his sixth
year.</p>
<p>His ever-reliable nose told him
that there was a dead Elk down
among the timber.</p>
<p>He went up the wind, and there,
sure enough, was the great delicious
carcass, already torn open
at the very best place. True, there
was that terrible man-and-iron
taint, but it was so slight and the
feast so tempting that after circling
around and inspecting the carcass
from his eight feet of stature, as he
stood erect, he went cautiously forward,
and at once was caught by
his left paw in an enormous Bear-trap.
He roared with pain and
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</SPAN></span>
slashed about in a fury. But this
was no Beaver-trap; it was a big
forty-pound Bear-catcher, and he
was surely caught.</p>
<div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/i080.png" width-obs="160" height-obs="283" alt="" title="" /></div>
<p>Wahb fairly foamed with rage,
and madly grit his teeth upon the
trap. Then he remembered his
former experiences. He placed the
trap between his hind legs, with a
hind paw on each spring, and
pressed down with all his weight.
But it was not enough. He dragged
off the trap and its clog, and went
clanking up the mountain. Again
and again he tried to free his foot,
but in vain, till he came where a
great trunk crossed the trail a few
feet from the ground. By chance,
or happy thought, he reared again
under this and made a new attempt.
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</SPAN></span>
With a hind foot on each spring
and his mighty shoulders underneath
the tree, he bore down
with his titanic strength: the great
steel springs gave way, the jaws
relaxed, and he tore out his foot.
So Wahb was free again, though
he left behind a great toe which
had been nearly severed by the
first snap of the steel.</p>
<p>Again Wahb had a painful wound
to nurse, and as he was a left-handed
Bear,—that is, when he
wished to turn a rock over he stood
on the right paw and turned with
the left,—one result of this disablement
was to rob him for a time
of all those dainty foods that are
found under rocks or logs. The
wound healed at last, but he never
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</SPAN></span>
forgot that experience, and thenceforth
the pungent smell of man and
iron, even without the gun smell,
never failed to enrage him.</p>
<p>Many experiences had taught
him that it is better to run if he
only smelled the hunter or heard
him far away, but to fight desperately
if the man was close at hand.
And the cow-boys soon came to
know that the Upper Meteetsee
was the range of a Bear that was
better let alone.</p>
<hr />
<div class="figright"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/page082.png" width-obs="40" height-obs="120" alt="" title="" /></div>
<h3><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</SPAN></span>III</h3>
<p style="margin-bottom: 3em"><ANTIMG class="initial" src="images/initial_o.png" alt="" title="" /><span class="smcap">ne</span> day after a long
absence Wahb came
into the lower part
of his range, and saw
to his surprise one
of the wooden dens that men make
for themselves. As he came around
to get the wind, he sensed the taint
that never failed to infuriate him
now, and a moment later he heard
a loud <i>bang</i> and felt a stinging shock
in his left hind leg, the old stiff leg.
He wheeled about, in time to see a
man running toward the new-made
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</SPAN></span>
shanty. Had the shot been in his
shoulder Wahb would have been
helpless, but it was not.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 3em"><span class="smcap">Mighty</span> arms that could toss pine
logs like broomsticks, paws that
with one tap could crush the biggest
Bull upon the range, claws that
could tear huge slabs of rock from
the mountain-side—what was even
the deadly rifle to them!</p>
<p><span class="smcap">When</span> the man's partner came
home that night he found him on
the reddened shanty floor. The
bloody trail from outside and a
shaky, scribbled note on the back
of a paper novel told the tale.</p>
<div class="figright"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/i083.png" width-obs="80" height-obs="80" alt="" title="" /></div>
<div class="blockquot">
<p style="margin-bottom: 0em">It was Wahb done it. I seen him by the
spring and wounded him. I tried to git on
the shanty, but he ketched me. My God,
how I suffer!</p>
<p class="right" style="margin-right: 25%; margin-top: 0em; margin-bottom: 3em">JACK.</p>
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</SPAN></span>
It was all fair. The man had
invaded the Bear's country, had
tried to take the Bear's life, and
had lost his own. But Jack's partner
swore he would kill that Bear.</p>
<div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/i084.png" width-obs="80" height-obs="296" alt="" title="" /></div>
<p>He took up the trail and followed
it up the cañon, and there bushwhacked
and hunted day after day.
He put out baits and traps, and at
length one day he heard a <i>crash</i>,
<i>clatter</i>, <i>thump</i>, and a huge rock
bounded down a bank into a wood,
scaring out a couple of deer that
floated away like thistle-down.
Miller thought at first that it was a
land-slide; but he soon knew that
it was Wahb that had rolled the
boulder over merely for the sake
of two or three ants beneath it.</p>
<p>The wind had not betrayed him,
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</SPAN></span>
so on peering through the bush
Miller saw the great Bear as he
fed, favoring his left hind leg and
growling sullenly to himself at a
fresh twinge of pain. Miller steadied
himself, and thought, "Here
goes a finisher or a dead miss."
He gave a sharp whistle, the Bear
stopped every move, and, as he
stood with ears acock, the man
fired at his head.</p>
<p>But at that moment the great
shaggy head moved, only an infuriating
scratch was given, the smoke
betrayed the man's place, and the
Grizzly made savage, three-legged
haste to catch his foe.</p>
<p>Miller dropped his gun and
swung lightly into a tree, the only
large one near. Wahb raged in
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</SPAN></span>
vain against the trunk. He tore
off the bark with his teeth and
claws; but Miller was safe beyond
his reach. For fully four hours the
Grizzly watched, then gave it up,
and slowly went off into the bushes
till lost to view. Miller watched
him from the tree, and afterward
waited nearly an hour to be sure
that the Bear was gone. He then
slipped to the ground, got his gun,
and set out for camp. But Wahb
was cunning; he had only <i>seemed</i>
to go away, and then had sneaked
back quietly to watch. As soon as
the man was away from the tree,
too far to return, Wahb dashed
after him. In spite of his wounds
the Bear could move the faster.
Within a quarter of a mile—well,
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</SPAN></span>
Wahb did just what the man had
sworn to do to him.</p>
<p>Long afterward his friends found
the gun and enough to tell the tale.</p>
<p>The claim-shanty on the Meteetsee
fell to pieces. It never
again was used, for no man cared
to enter a country that had but few
allurements to offset its evident
curse of ill luck, and where such a
terrible Grizzly was always on the
war-path.</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/i087.png" width-obs="300" height-obs="151" alt="" title="" /></div>
<hr />
<div class="figright"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/page088.png" width-obs="40" height-obs="120" alt="" title="" /></div>
<h3><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</SPAN></span>IV</h3>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/i088.png" width-obs="400" height-obs="247" alt="" title="" /></div>
<p><ANTIMG class="initial" src="images/initial_t.png" alt="" title="" /><span class="smcap">hen</span> they found
good gold on the
Upper Meteetsee.
Miners came in
pairs and wandered
through the peaks, rooting up
the ground and spoiling the little
streams—grizzly old men mostly,
that had lived their lives in the
mountain and were themselves
slowly turning into Grizzly Bears;
digging and grubbing everywhere,
not for good, wholesome roots, but
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</SPAN></span>
for that shiny yellow sand that they
could not eat; living the lives of
Grizzlies, asking nothing but to be
let alone to dig.</p>
<p>They seemed to understand
Grizzly Wahb. The first time they
met, Wahb reared up on his hind
legs, and the wicked green lightnings
began to twinkle in his small
eyes. The elder man said to his
mate:</p>
<p>"Let him alone, and he won't
bother you."</p>
<p>"Ain't he an awful size, though?"
replied the other, nervously.</p>
<div>
<SPAN name="image07" id="image07"></SPAN></div>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/image007.jpg" width-obs="420" height-obs="600" alt="" title="" /> <p class="caption center">"'AIN'T HE AN AWFUL SIZE, THOUGH?'"</p> </div>
<div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/i092.png" width-obs="80" height-obs="291" alt="" title="" /></div>
<p>Wahb was about to charge, but
something held him back—a something
that had no reference to his
senses, that was felt only when
they were still; a something that
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</SPAN></span>
in Bear and Man is wiser than his
wisdom, and that points the way
at every doubtful fork in the dim
and winding trail.</p>
<p>Of course Wahb did not understand
what the men said, but he
did feel that there was something
different here. The smell of man
and iron was there, but not of that
maddening kind, and he missed
the pungent odor that even yet
brought back the dark days of his
cubhood.</p>
<p>The men did not move, so Wahb
rumbled a subterranean growl,
dropped down on his four feet, and
went on.</p>
<div class="figright"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/i093.png" width-obs="100" height-obs="183" alt="" title="" /></div>
<p>Late the same year Wahb ran
across the red-nosed Blackbear.
How that Bear did keep on shrinking!
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</SPAN></span>
Wahb could have hurled him
across the Graybull with one tap
now.</p>
<p>But the Blackbear did not mean
to let him try. He hustled his fat,
podgy body up a tree at a rate that
made him puff. Wahb reached up
nine feet from the ground, and with
one rake of his huge claws tore
off the bark clear to the shining
white wood and down nearly to
the ground; and the Blackbear
shivered and whimpered with terror
as the scraping of those awful
claws ran up the trunk and up his
spine in a way that was horribly
suggestive.</p>
<div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/i094.png" width-obs="80" height-obs="415" alt="" title="" /></div>
<p>What was it that the sight of
that Blackbear stirred in Wahb?
Was it memories of the Upper
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</SPAN></span>
Piney, long forgotten; thoughts of
a woodland rich in food?</p>
<p>Wahb left him trembling up there
as high as he could get, and without
any very clear purpose swung
along the upper benches of the
Meteetsee down to the Graybull,
around the foot of the Rimrock
Mountain; on, till hours later he
found himself in the timber-tangle
of the Lower Piney, and among
the berries and ants of the old
times.</p>
<p>He had forgotten what a fine
land the Piney was: plenty of food,
no miners to spoil the streams, no
hunters to keep an eye on, and no
mosquitoes or flies, but plenty of
open, sunny glades and sheltering
woods, backed up by high, straight
cliffs to turn the colder winds.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</SPAN></span>
There were, moreover, no resident
Grizzlies, no signs even of
passing travelers, and the Blackbears
that were in possession did
not count.</p>
<p>Wahb was well pleased. He
rolled his vast bulk in an old Buffalo-wallow,
and rearing up against
a tree where the Piney Cañon quits
the Graybull Cañon, he left on it
his mark fully eight feet from the
ground.</p>
<div class="figright"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/i096.png" width-obs="120" height-obs="120" alt="" title="" /></div>
<p>In the days that followed he
wandered farther and farther up
among the rugged spurs of the
Shoshones, and took possession
as he went. He found the sign-boards
of several Blackbears, and
if they were small dead trees he
sent them crashing to earth with a
drive of his giant paw. If they
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</SPAN></span>
were green, he put his own mark
over the other mark, and made it
clearer by slashing the bark with
the great pickaxes that grew on
his toes.</p>
<p>The Upper Piney had so long
been a Blackbear range that the
Squirrels had ceased storing their
harvest in hollow trees, and were
now using the spaces under flat
rocks, where the Blackbears could
not get at them; so Wahb found
this a land of plenty: every fourth
or fifth rock in the pine woods was
the roof of a Squirrel or Chipmunk
granary, and when he turned
it over, if the little owner were
there, Wahb did not scruple to
flatten him with his paw and devour
him as an agreeable relish to
his own provisions.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</SPAN></span>
And wherever Wahb went he
put up his sign-board:</p>
<div class="blockquot">
<p class="center">Trespassers beware!</p>
</div>
<p>It was written on the trees as
high up as he could reach, and
every one that came by understood
that the scent of it and the hair in
it were those of the great Grizzly
Wahb.</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/i097.png" width-obs="400" height-obs="77" alt="" title="" /></div>
<div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/i098.png" width-obs="80" height-obs="280" alt="" title="" /></div>
<div class="figright"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/i100.png" width-obs="80" height-obs="300" alt="" title="" /></div>
<p>If his Mother had lived to train
him, Wahb would have known that
a good range in spring may be a
bad one in summer. Wahb found
out by years of experience that a
total change with the seasons is
best. In the early spring the Cattle
and Elk ranges, with their winter-killed
carcasses, offer a bountiful
feast. In early summer the
best forage is on the warm hillsides
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</SPAN></span>
where the quamash and the
Indian turnip grow. In late summer
the berry-bushes along the
river-flat are laden with fruit, and
in autumn the pine woods gave
good chances to fatten for the winter.
So he added to his range each
year. He not only cleared out the
Blackbears from the Piney and the
Meteetsee, but he went over the
Divide and killed that old fellow
that had once chased him out of
the Warhouse Valley. And, more
than that, he held what he had
won, for he broke up a camp of
tenderfeet that were looking for a
ranch location on the Middle Meteetsee;
he stampeded their horses,
and made general smash of the
camp. And so all the animals, including
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</SPAN></span>
man, came to know that
the whole range from Frank's Peak
to the Shoshone spurs was the proper
domain of a king well able to
defend it, and the name of that king
was Meteetsee Wahb.</p>
<p>Any creature whose strength
puts him beyond danger of open
attack is apt to lose in cunning.
Yet Wahb never forgot his early
experience with the traps. He
made it a rule never to go near that
smell of man and iron, and that
was the reason that he never again
was caught.</p>
<p>So he led his lonely life and
slouched around on the mountains,
throwing boulders about like pebbles,
and huge trunks like matchwood,
as he sought for his daily
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</SPAN></span>
food. And every beast of hill and
plain soon came to know and fly in
fear of Wahb, the one time hunted,
persecuted Cub. And more than
one Blackbear paid with his life for
the ill-deed of that other, long ago.
And many a cranky Bobcat flying
before him took to a tree, and if
that tree were dead and dry, Wahb
heaved it down, and tree and Cat
alike were dashed to bits. Even
the proud-necked Stallion, leader
of the mustang band, thought well
for once to yield the road. The
great, grey Timberwolves, and the
Mountain Lions too, left their new
kill and sneaked in sullen fear aside
when Wahb appeared. And if, as
he hulked across the sage-covered
river-flat sending the scared Antelope
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</SPAN></span>
skimming like birds before
him, he was faced perchance, by
some burly Range-bull, too young
to be wise and too big to be afraid,
Wahb smashed his skull with one
blow of that giant paw, and served
him as the Range-cow would have
served himself long years ago.</p>
<div>
<SPAN name="image08" id="image08"></SPAN></div>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/image008.jpg" width-obs="600" height-obs="379" alt="" title="" /> <p class="caption center">"WAHB SMASHED HIS SKULL."</p> </div>
<div class="figright"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/i103.png" width-obs="100" height-obs="79" alt="" title="" /></div>
<p>The All-mother never fails to
offer to her own, twin cups, one
gall, and one of balm. Little or
much they may drink, but equally
of each. The mountain that is
easy to descend must soon be
climbed again. The grinding hardship
of Wahb's early days had
built his mighty frame. All usual
pleasures of a grizzly's life had
been denied him but <i>power</i> bestowed
in more than double share.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</SPAN></span>
So he lived on year after year,
unsoftened by mate or companion,
sullen, fearing nothing, ready
to fight, but asking only to be let
alone—quite alone. He had but
one keen pleasure in his sombre
life—the lasting glory in his matchless
strength—the small but never
failing thrill of joy as the foe fell
crushed and limp, or the riven
boulders grit and heaved when he
turned on them the measure of his
wondrous force.</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/i104.png" width-obs="160" height-obs="179" alt="" title="" /></div>
<hr />
<div class="figright"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/page105.png" width-obs="40" height-obs="120" alt="" title="" /></div>
<h3><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</SPAN></span>V</h3>
<p><ANTIMG class="initial" src="images/initial_e.png" alt="" title="" /><span class="smcap">verything</span> has
a smell of its own
for those that have
noses to smell. Wahb
had been learning
smells all his life, and knew the
meaning of most of those in the
mountains. It was as though each
and every thing had a voice of its
own for him; and yet it was far
better than a voice, for every one
knows that a good nose is better
than eyes and ears together. And
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</SPAN></span>
each of these myriads of voices
kept on crying, "Here and such
am I."</p>
<p>The juniper-berries, the rosehips,
the strawberries, each had a
soft, sweet little voice, calling,
"Here we are—Berries, Berries."</p>
<p>The great pine woods had a
loud, far-reaching voice, "Here
are we, the Pine-trees," but when
he got right up to them Wahb
could hear the low, sweet call of
the piñon-nuts, "Here are we, the
Piñon-nuts."</p>
<p>And the quamash beds in May
sang a perfect chorus when the
wind was right: "Quamash beds,
Quamash beds."</p>
<p>And when he got among them
he made out each single voice.
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</SPAN></span>
Each root had its own little piece
to say to his nose: "Here am I, a
big Quamash, rich and ripe," or
a tiny, sharp voice, "Here am I,
a good-for-nothing, stringy little
root."</p>
<p>And the broad, rich russulas in
the autumn called aloud, "I am a
fat, wholesome Mushroom," and
the deadly amanita cried, "I am an
Amanita. Let me alone, or you'll
be a sick Bear." And the fairy
harebell of the cañon-banks sang
a song too, as fine as its thread-like
stem, and as soft as its dainty
blue; but the warden of the smells
had learned to report it not, for
this, and a million other such, were
of no interest to Wahb.</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/i107.png" width-obs="400" height-obs="233" alt="" title="" /></div>
<p>So every living thing that moved,
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</SPAN></span>
and every flower that grew, and
every rock and stone and shape
on earth told out its tale and sang
its little story to his nose. Day or
night, fog or bright, that great,
moist nose told him most of the
things he needed to know, or
passed unnoticed those of no concern,
and he depended on it more
and more. If his eyes and ears together
reported so and so, he would
not even then believe it until his
nose said, "Yes; that is right."</p>
<div class="figright"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/i108.png" width-obs="120" height-obs="112" alt="" title="" /></div>
<p>But this is something that man
cannot understand, for he has sold
the birthright of his nose for the
privilege of living in towns.</p>
<p>While hundreds of smells were
agreeable to Wahb, thousands
were indifferent to him, a good
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</SPAN></span>
many were unpleasant, and some
actually put him in a rage.</p>
<p style="margin-bottom: 3em">He had often noticed that if a
west wind were blowing when he
was at the head of the Piney
Cañon there was an odd, new
scent. Some days he did not mind
it, and some days it disgusted
him; but he never followed it up.
On other days a north wind from
the high Divide brought a most
awful smell, something unlike any
other, a smell that he wanted only
to get away from.</p>
<div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/i110_1.png" width-obs="120" height-obs="211" alt="" title="" /></div>
<div class="figright"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/i110_2.png" width-obs="120" height-obs="148" alt="" title="" /></div>
<p><span class="smcap">Wahb</span> was getting well past his
youth now, and he began to have
pains in the hind leg that had been
wounded so often. After a cold
night or a long time of wet weather
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</SPAN></span>
he could scarcely use that leg, and
one day, while thus crippled, the
west wind came down the cañon
with an odd message to his nose.
Wahb could not clearly read the
message, but it seemed to say,
"Come," and something within him
said, "Go." The smell of food will
draw a hungry creature and disgust
a gorged one. We do not know
why, and all that any one can learn
is that the desire springs from a
need of the body. So Wahb felt
drawn by what had long disgusted
him, and he slouched up the mountain
path, grumbling to himself and
slapping savagely back at branches
that chanced to switch his face.</p>
<div class="figright"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/i111.png" width-obs="100" height-obs="77" alt="" title="" /></div>
<p>The odd odor grew very strong;
it led him where he had never been
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</SPAN></span>
before—up a bank of whitish sand
to a bench of the same color, where
there was unhealthy-looking water
running down, and a kind of fog
coming out of a hole. Wahb threw
up his nose suspiciously—such a
peculiar smell! He climbed the
bench.</p>
<p>A snake wriggled across the
sand in front. Wahb crushed it
with a blow that made the near
trees shiver and sent a balanced
boulder toppling down, and he
growled a growl that rumbled up
the valley like distant thunder.
Then he came to the foggy hole.
It was full of water that moved
gently and steamed. Wahb put in
his foot, and found it was quite
warm and that it felt pleasantly on
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</SPAN></span>
his skin. He put in both feet, and
little by little went in farther, causing
the pool to overflow on all
sides, till he was lying at full length
in the warm, almost hot, sulphur-spring,
and sweltering in the greenish
water, while the wind drifted
the steam about overhead.</p>
<div>
<SPAN name="image09" id="image09"></SPAN></div>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/image009.jpg" width-obs="428" height-obs="600" alt="" title="" /> <p class="caption center">"CAUSING THE POOL TO OVERFLOW."</p> </div>
<div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/i115.png" width-obs="160" height-obs="347" alt="" title="" /></div>
<p>There are plenty of these sulphur-springs
in the Rockies, but
this chanced to be the only one on
Wahb's range. He lay in it for
over an hour; then, feeling that he
had had enough, he heaved his
huge bulk up on the bank, and
realized that he was feeling remarkably
well and supple. The
stiffness of his hind leg was gone.</p>
<p>He shook the water from his
shaggy coat. A broad ledge in full
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</SPAN></span>
sun-heat invited him to stretch
himself out and dry. But first he
reared against the nearest tree and
left a mark that none could mistake.
True, there were plenty of
signs of other animals using the
sulphur-bath for their ills; but
what of it? Thenceforth that tree
bore this inscription, in a language
of mud, hair, and smell, that every
mountain creature could read:</p>
<div class="blockquot">
<p class="center" style="margin-bottom: 0em">My bath. Keep away!</p>
<p class="center" style="margin-top: 0em">(Signed) WAHB</p>
</div>
<p>Wahb lay on his belly till his
back was dry, then turned on his
broad back and squirmed about in
a ponderous way till the broiling
sun had wholly dried him. He
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</SPAN></span>
realized that he was really feeling
very well now. He did not say to
himself, "I am troubled with that
unpleasant disease called rheumatism,
and sulphur-bath treatment
is the thing to cure it." But what
he did know was, "I have dreadful
pains; I feel better when I am in
this stinking pool." So thenceforth
he came back whenever the pains
began again, and each time he was
cured.</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/i116.png" width-obs="400" height-obs="331" alt="" title="" /></div>
<div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/i117.png" width-obs="250" height-obs="359" alt="" title="" /></div>
<div class="figright"> <ANTIMG class="plain" src="images/i118.png" width-obs="80" height-obs="299" alt="" title="" /></div>
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