Read Old Yeller for Free Online Page A

had got himself into, but I knew that it had to do with a mad bear, which was enough.
    The way the late sun slanted through the trees had the trail all cross-banded with streaks of bright light and dark shade. I ran through these bright and dark patches so fast that the changing light nearly blinded me. Then suddenly, I raced out into the open where I could see ahead. And what I saw sent a chill clear through to the marrow of my bones.
    There was Little Arliss, down in that spring hole again. He was lying half in and half out of the water, holding on to the hind leg of a little black bear cub no bigger than a small coon. The bear cub was out on the bank, whimpering and crying and clawing the rocks with all three of his other feet, trying to pull away. But Little Arliss was holding on for all he was worth, scared now and screaming his head off. Too scared to let go.
    How the bear cub ever came to prowl close enough for Little Arliss to grab him, I don’t know. And why he didn’t turn on him and bite loose, I couldn’t figure out, either. Unless he waslike Little Arliss, too scared to think.
    But all of that didn’t matter now. What mattered was the bear cub’s mama. She’d heard the cries of her baby and was coming to save him. She was coming so fast that she had the brush popping and breaking as she crashed through and over it. I could see her black heavy figure piling off down the slant on the far side of Birdsong Creek. She was roaring mad and ready to kill.
    And worst of all, I could see that I’d never get there in time!
    Mama couldn’t either. She’d heard Arliss, too, and here she came from the cabin, running down the slant toward the spring, screaming at Arliss, telling him to turn the bear cub loose. But Little Arliss wouldn’t do it. All he’d do was hang with that hind leg and let out one shrill shriek after another as fast as he could suck in a breath.
    Now the she bear was charging across the shallows in the creek. She was knocking sheets of water high in the bright sun, charging with her fur up and her long teeth bared, filling the canyon with that awful coughing roar. And no matter how fast Mama ran or how fast I ran, theshe bear was going to get there first!
    I think I nearly went blind then, picturing what was going to happen to Little Arliss. I know that I opened my mouth to scream and not any sound came out.
    Then, just as the bear went lunging up the creek bank toward Little Arliss and her cub, a flash of yellow came streaking out of the brush.
    It was that big yeller dog. He was roaring like a mad bull. He wasn’t one-third as big and heavy as the she bear, but when he piled into her from one side, he rolled her clear off her feet. They went down in a wild, roaring tangle of twisting bodies and scrambling feet and slashing fangs.
    As I raced past them, I saw the bear lunge up to stand on her hind feet like a man while she clawed at the body of the yeller dog hanging to her throat. I didn’t wait to see more. Without ever checking my stride, I ran in and jerked Little Arliss loose from the cub. I grabbed him by the wrist and yanked him up out of that water and slung him toward Mama like he was a half-empty sack of corn. I screamed at Mama. “Grab him, Mama! Grab him and run!” Then I swung my chopping axe high and wheeled, aiming tocave in the she bear’s head with the first lick.
    But I never did strike. I didn’t need to. Old Yeller hadn’t let the bear get close enough. He couldn’t handle her; she was too big and strong for that. She’d stand there on her hind feet, hunched over, and take a roaring swing at him with one of those big front claws. She’d slap him head over heels. She’d knock him so far that it didn’t look like he could possibly get back there before she charged again, but he always did. He’d hit the ground rolling, yelling his head off with the pain of the blow; but somehow he’d always roll to his feet. And here he’d come again, ready to tie into her for