there.â
âAlways.â Fargo climbed on and held the Sharps in front of him. As he tapped his spurs he tried not to dwell on the fact that a man could be as careful as he could be and still end up in a bearâs belly.
12
As the forest and the shadows closed around Fargo, so did a deep silence. Usually the songbirds started a new day singing in exuberance. Not one was singing today.
Fargo rode with every nerve tingling. Grizzlies were notorious for ambushing their prey. They were also cunning at concealing themselves. He searched in a loop. The ground was hard and there were plenty of pine needles to cushion the bearâs great weight but he found a partial print and then broken brush, enough to tell him the giant bear had headed west.
Fargo went slowly, as much to keep from being jumped as to not miss any of the spoor. Tracking was often painstaking; with grizzlies it was more so.
From the spacing between prints, Fargo deduced that the griz had been moving at a fast pace. It made no attempt to hide its passage and for over an hour Fargo made good time. Then he crested a rise. Below spread a granite slope sprinkled with scattered pockets of bare earth. Dismounting, he checked the bare patches first but he didnât find a single print. It was possible the bearâs claws had scraped the granite here and there but the nicks would be slight and hard to find.
His only other recourse was to descend to the bottom and search for sign there. He rode back and forth for half an hour, but nothing. It was as if the grizzly had vanished into thin air. He ranged farther and came on a smudge but he couldnât say whether the bear made it. He scoured the vicinity and found no other marks.
Fargo was getting nowhere. Frustrated, he returned to the granite slope. Maybe the bear hadnât come all the way down. Maybe it had changed direction again. He reined to the right and spent another twenty minutes looking, without success. Swinging around to the left, he discovered a large pine that bore fresh claw marks.
âThank you, bear,â Fargo said with a grin. He examined them; they were wider and deeper than any heâd ever run across.
He went a little way and found where the grizzly had urinated. Dismounting, he tried to tell if the urine came from under the bear or from behind it. If from under, the bear was a male. Females usually squatted, and the urine was usually behind them. But there were no clear prints to go by.
Brain Eater had gone north for about a hundred yards and turned due west again. Shortly after, the tracks pointed to the south. To someone unfamiliar with bears it would seem the grizzly was wandering all over the place. Fargo knew better. Brain Eater was doing what bears always did; they followed their nose. Bears relied on their sense of smell more than any other faculty.
Fargo hoped Brain Eater found something to eat. A gorged bear would lay up after eating. Twice he lost the sign but found it again. The few tracks of the bearâs whole paws were marvels; Bear Eater was as third again as big as most grizzlies.
Fargo was so engrossed in the spoor that when he flushed a gray fox, it startled him. It startled the fox, too; the animal bounded away and never looked back.
Noon came and went and Fargo had yet to catch a glimpse of his quarry. He was thinking of that when he came out of a stand of firs, and there, on a shelf not fifty feet above him, was Brain Eater.
The grizzly had heard him and they set eyes on each other at the same instant.
Fargo drew rein.
Brain Eater reared.
Astonishment rooted Fargo. The thing was gigantic. It uttered a menacing growl. Recovering his wits, he jerked the Sharps to his shoulder. Belatedly, he realized that Brain Eater was a female, not a male as everyone assumed, which made the bearâs immense size all the more remarkable. Usually males were larger than females.
Fargo took aim. He centered the sights for a lung shot and started to thumb
âAlways.â Fargo climbed on and held the Sharps in front of him. As he tapped his spurs he tried not to dwell on the fact that a man could be as careful as he could be and still end up in a bearâs belly.
12
As the forest and the shadows closed around Fargo, so did a deep silence. Usually the songbirds started a new day singing in exuberance. Not one was singing today.
Fargo rode with every nerve tingling. Grizzlies were notorious for ambushing their prey. They were also cunning at concealing themselves. He searched in a loop. The ground was hard and there were plenty of pine needles to cushion the bearâs great weight but he found a partial print and then broken brush, enough to tell him the giant bear had headed west.
Fargo went slowly, as much to keep from being jumped as to not miss any of the spoor. Tracking was often painstaking; with grizzlies it was more so.
From the spacing between prints, Fargo deduced that the griz had been moving at a fast pace. It made no attempt to hide its passage and for over an hour Fargo made good time. Then he crested a rise. Below spread a granite slope sprinkled with scattered pockets of bare earth. Dismounting, he checked the bare patches first but he didnât find a single print. It was possible the bearâs claws had scraped the granite here and there but the nicks would be slight and hard to find.
His only other recourse was to descend to the bottom and search for sign there. He rode back and forth for half an hour, but nothing. It was as if the grizzly had vanished into thin air. He ranged farther and came on a smudge but he couldnât say whether the bear made it. He scoured the vicinity and found no other marks.
Fargo was getting nowhere. Frustrated, he returned to the granite slope. Maybe the bear hadnât come all the way down. Maybe it had changed direction again. He reined to the right and spent another twenty minutes looking, without success. Swinging around to the left, he discovered a large pine that bore fresh claw marks.
âThank you, bear,â Fargo said with a grin. He examined them; they were wider and deeper than any heâd ever run across.
He went a little way and found where the grizzly had urinated. Dismounting, he tried to tell if the urine came from under the bear or from behind it. If from under, the bear was a male. Females usually squatted, and the urine was usually behind them. But there were no clear prints to go by.
Brain Eater had gone north for about a hundred yards and turned due west again. Shortly after, the tracks pointed to the south. To someone unfamiliar with bears it would seem the grizzly was wandering all over the place. Fargo knew better. Brain Eater was doing what bears always did; they followed their nose. Bears relied on their sense of smell more than any other faculty.
Fargo hoped Brain Eater found something to eat. A gorged bear would lay up after eating. Twice he lost the sign but found it again. The few tracks of the bearâs whole paws were marvels; Bear Eater was as third again as big as most grizzlies.
Fargo was so engrossed in the spoor that when he flushed a gray fox, it startled him. It startled the fox, too; the animal bounded away and never looked back.
Noon came and went and Fargo had yet to catch a glimpse of his quarry. He was thinking of that when he came out of a stand of firs, and there, on a shelf not fifty feet above him, was Brain Eater.
The grizzly had heard him and they set eyes on each other at the same instant.
Fargo drew rein.
Brain Eater reared.
Astonishment rooted Fargo. The thing was gigantic. It uttered a menacing growl. Recovering his wits, he jerked the Sharps to his shoulder. Belatedly, he realized that Brain Eater was a female, not a male as everyone assumed, which made the bearâs immense size all the more remarkable. Usually males were larger than females.
Fargo took aim. He centered the sights for a lung shot and started to thumb
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