The Black Gully
NOTE. The author, fearing that the account of fire springing from the earth, given in the following story, may be considered by the reader too improbable for any book but one of Arabian fables, wishes to say that the fire and the explosion occurred in the place and manner described.
THE Fire Bear had never before been seen in the Blue River neighbourhood. His former appearances had been at or near the mouth of Conn’s Creek, where that stream flows into Flatrock, five or six miles south east of Balser’s home.
Flatrock River takes its name from the fact that it flows over layers of broad flat rocks. The soil in its vicinity is underlaid at a depth of a few feet by a formation of stratified limestone, which crops out on the hillsides and precipices, and in many places forms deep, canon-like crevasses, through which the river flows. In these cliffs and miniature canons are many caves, and branching off from the river’s course are many small side-canons, or gullies, which at night are black and repellent, and in many instances are quite difficult to explore.
One of these side-canons was so dark and forbidding that it was called by the settlers “The Black Gully.” The conformation of the rocks composing its precipitous sides was grotesque in the extreme; and the overhanging trees, thickly covered with vines, cast so deep a shadow upon the ravine that even at midday its dark recesses bore a cast of gloom like that of night untimely fallen. How Balser happened to visit the Black Gully, and the circumstances under which he saw it sufficiently terrible and awe-inspiring to cause the bravest man to tremble I shall soon tell you.
The country in the vicinity of Flatrock was full of hiding-places, and that was supposed to be the home of the Fire Bear.
The morning after Polly and Balser had seen the Fire Bear, they went forth bright and early to follow the tracks of their fiery enemy, and if possible to learn where he had gone after his unwelcome visit.
They took up the spoor at the point where the bear had crossed the river the night before, and easily followed his path three or four miles down the stream. There they found the place where he had crossed the river to the east bank. The tracks, which were plainly visible in the new-fallen snow, there turned southeast toward his reputed home among the caves and gullies of Flatrock and Conn’s Creek.
The trackers hurried forward so eagerly in their pursuit that they felt no fatigue. They found several deer, and at one time they saw at a great distance a bear; but they did not pursue either, for their minds were too full of the hope that they might discover the haunts of the monster upon whose death depended, as they believed, their lives and that of Liney Fox. When Balser and Polly reached the stony ground of Flatrock the bear tracks began to grow indistinct, and soon they were lost entirely among the smooth rocks from which the snow had been blown away.
The boys had, however, accomplished their purpose, for they were convinced that they had discovered the haunts of the bear. They carefully noticed the surrounding country, and spoke to each other of the peculiar cliffs and trees in the neighbourhood, so that they might remember the place when they should return. Then they found a dry little cave wherein they kindled a fire and roasted a piece of venison which they had taken with them. When their roast was cooked, they ate their dinner of cold hoe-cake and venison, and then sat by the fire for an hour to warm and rest before beginning their long, hard journey home through the snow. Polly smoked his after-dinner pipe, the pipe was a hollow corn-cob with the tip of a buck’s horn for a stem, and the two bear hunters talked over the events of the day and discussed the coming campaign against the Fire Bear.
“I s’pose we’ll have to hunt him by night,” said Polly. “He’s never seen at any other time, they say.”
“Yes, we’ll have to hunt him by night,” said Balser; “but darkness will help us in the hunt, for we can see him better at night than at any other time, and he can’t see us as well as he could in daylight.”
“Balser, you surprise me,” answered Polly. “Have you hunted bears all this time and don’t know that a bear can see as well after night as in the daytime better, maybe?”
“Maybe that’s so,” responded Balser. “I know that cats and owls can see better by night, but I didn’t know about bears. How do you know it’s true?”
“How do I know? Why, didn’t that there bear make a bee-line for this place last night, and wasn’t last night as dark as the inside of a whale, and don’t they go about at night more than in the daytime? Tell me that. When do they steal sheep and shoats? In daytime? Tell me that. Ain’t it always at night? Did you ever hear of a bear stealing a shoat in the daytime? No, sirree; but they can see the littlest shoat that ever grunted, on the darkest night, see him and snatch him out of the pen and get away with him quicker than you or I could, a durned sight.”
“I never tried; did you, Polly?” asked Balser.
Polly wasn’t above suspicion among those who knew him, and Balser’s question slightly disconcerted him.
“Well, I durned if that ain’t the worst fool question I ever heerd a boy ask,” answered Polly. Then, somewhat anxious to change the conversation, he continued: “What night do you propose to come down here? Tomorrow night?”
“No, not for a week. Not till seven nights after to-night,” answered Balser, mindful of the charm which he hoped Liney’s prayers would make for him.
“Seven nights? Geminy! I’m afraid I’ll get scared of this place by that time. I’ll bet this is an awful place at night; nothing but great chunks of blackness in these here gullies, so thick you could cut it with a knife. I’m not afraid now because I’m desperate. I’m so afraid of dyin’ because I saw the Fire Bear that I don’t seem to be afraid of nothin’ else.”
Polly was right. There is nothing like a counter-fear to keep a coward’s courage up.