In the meanwhile, what had Warde been doing? After he was left alone in camp, he dutifully tidied up the place, bathed his aching ankle and wrote home as he planned. The writing took a long time as he was slow and had so much to tell. Warde did not enjoy writing letters and when he had finished he felt as cramped and tired as if he had chopped a cord of firewood. The sharp mountain air helped make him sleepy and when he stretched out on the grass to rest for “just a minute,” sleep overcame him and he took a nap like a baby. When he waked he did not need the short shadows of the noon sun directly overhead to tell him it was lunch time. Disappointed that his pals had not returned he rummaged about for a snack of bread and bacon for himself. He began to long for companionship, but did not dare to wander off far from camp for fear the boys would return and he would miss them and any fun on foot. So Warde stayed in camp until he fidgeted alone and decided to use his time to good advantage by collecting firewood. This he did so industriously that soon he had a fine pile. On coming back to it with another armful of sticks Warde saw something moving by one tent. Mr. Wilde and Billy shared one tent, the boys another, while the camera and camp supplies were stored in a third. Something was moving near the tent where the provisions were kept.
Overjoyed, after his long solitude at seeing what he supposed of course was Ed or Westy, Warde shouted. At the sound of his voice the intruder started and reared up. It was an enormous grizzly bear!
You may imagine that Warde stopped stock-still, unable to move hand or foot. He seemed turned to stone and did not even drop his sticks.
The grizzly stood on his hind legs, solemnly regarding him and he did not move either. It would have been worth Billy’s while to have been behind a bush then with his camera, for the picture of boy and bear each standing staring at one another would have been another thriller to his credit.
The grizzly was taller than a tall man as he stood there, his forepaws bent as if contemplating one vast and soft embrace.
Warde’s instinct to heave one of his sticks at the animal he checked as foolhardy, for such an attack would be sure to enrage the brute. Warde softly stepped backward. The bear stepped forward. Warde ventured another backstep, the bear dropped to all fours with a windy “snoof” and advanced toward him.
At this point Warde thought wildly of climbing a tree. But he could not remember whether grizzly bears climb trees or not. At any rate, the idea of scrambling up a tree trunk with the bear clawing at his back did not appeal at this time to our hero. He wished more than ever that his fellow scouts would appear. Then the remembrance of Westy’s accusation that they were only “parlor scouts” stung him and he resolved to act in a manner worthy a real scout. Just what this would be was the puzzle. Warde had seen grizzlies in the zoo, of course, but he missed the trusty iron bars from the landscape now. Thought of the zoo recalled the fact that at feeding time the keepers threw loaves of bread to them. If he could only circle about and reach the provisions perhaps the bear would eat bread or something instead of boy. Do grizzlies eat boys or do they not? The answer to this was as vague in Warde’s mind as the answer to, Do they climb trees? At any rate he remembered that they hugged their victims to death, crushing them in that fur and iron embrace. Nothing appealed less to Warde at this moment than any such show of affection! He tried to ease around behind the woodpile and the bear began to follow him. “At any rate,” thought Warde, “while the old boy keeps down on all fours he can’t hug me.” He moved cautiously and the bear advanced threateningly. Warde felt the natural impulse to turn and run, but the idea of the bear galloping behind halted this. To keep running, pursued by a bear, was too much like a bad dream in which the bear comes even closer and you can’t move your feet. Warde decided it was less harrowing to stand his ground and face the brute. At any rate the bear had not emitted any blood-curdling “feeding-time-at-the-zoo” growls. He only gave a few “snoofs” not unlike a pet dog. Warde maneuvered about keeping tent or woodpile cautiously between himself and his visitor and the bear lumbered after him. In this way Warde finally reached the provisions and finding a pan of Billy’s biscuits still on hand, he tossed one at the bear. It snapped this up eagerly and lunged forward. Stepping backward inhospitably, Warde threw another biscuit and threw it good and far. The bear turned and trotted after it. By throwing the biscuits one at a time with all the snap of a Big League pitcher, Warde succeeded in keeping the great animal at a comfortable distance. It reminded him of those stories of Russia when the sleigh is pursued by wolves and one by one the riders jump overboard as sacrifice to delay the pack so that the sole surviving heroine may escape. Warde hated to think what he would do when all the biscuits were gone.
He felt sure he could not continue to throw every piece of food they had to the bear. Finally the last remaining biscuit went, and, impatient for more, the bear came forward at a brisk and clumsy trot. Warde felt it was just as well to side step. The big creature thrust himself into the tent and tumbled everything about, now stopping to snap up a tidbit, now investigating and upsetting boxes with his nose. At last he came to Billy’s camera supplies. Here in tin boxes were spare films and if anything destroyed these, the expedition was spoiled. At this point Warde asserted himself. To tell the truth he had rather envied the glory Westy acquired in his encounter with Bloodhound Pete. The bear did not seem too ferocious and Warde felt that here was a chance for him to outwit the animal and win for himself perhaps a modicum of fame. He tried to think what he had ever heard about bears, and to save his life could only recall the adventure of the absurd Goldilocks and the repeated, “Who has been sleeping in my bed?” said the middle-sized bear in his middle-sized voice. You will admit that Goldilocks was not a great help to a scout facing a Rocky Mountain grizzly! Why is it the most foolish thoughts occur to you in moments of stress? Warde felt very annoyed that people filled up children’s minds on that silly stuff instead of teaching them useful things like how to drive away live bears that are licking your biscuit pan. Warde couldn’t seem to think up anything to stop the bear’s dishwashing, and like a good many other people when baffled he blamed it on his education. “Gosh,” he thought indignantly, “when I have a boy I won’t waste his time on nursery rimes; I’ll bring him up to things that amount to something in a pinch!”
It was when the bear nosed at the camera boxes again that Warde was spurred to action. He felt that the day would be lost if he did not protect those precious films for which they were undertaking this whole trip. Pressed with need to act, Warde suddenly was blessed with an idea. He remembered the adage that no animal can look you in the eye. He ventured therefore to advance and glare unblinkingly straight into the bear’s eyes. The bear snar............