Scudder was back in twenty minutes--though it seemed like an hour to Lodz, thinking of Bruno getting farther and farther away.
The soldier was carrying two rifles. "Loaded and working," he said as he offered one to Lodz. "You may need this if the bear's gone completely wild."
"He'd never attack me!" Lodz took it, though, somehow managing to hold both that and the whip he'd brought with him. The whip was intended only for cracking and gentle taps; he refused to hit an animal hard. I won't shoot Bruno, but I won't hesitate to shoot any human who threatens him. You included. "How's your Russian friend?"
"He'll be all right," Scudder said as they began walking in the direction from which he'd come. "Passed out from shock, but he doesn't seem to have any injuries beyond scratches. I left him in the trench, just coming around.
"He's not my 'friend.' He showed up after your bear did--I'd never seen him before. I don't know if he'd been tracking it, or was looking for other Allied forces because he's the last survivor of his unit." Soberly, he added, "Like I am of mine."
"There, you see," Lodz said triumphantly, "Bruno didn't injure him! Bruno isn't dangerous. He's as scared of you soldiers as you are of him." He noticed Scudder didn't look convinced, but he continued quickly, "Was he still wearing his little red hat and cape? I don't see how he could have shaken them off--"
"Yes, he was still wearing them. "
"So it's obvious he's someone's trained bear. Hopefully other soldiers won't shoot at him."
Scudder shook his head. "I hope we can take him alive, Lodz. But I couldn't blame anyone for ignoring the cute little hat, and seeing only the blood on his muzzle."
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Scudder refused to stop for another look in the trench where his comrades had died. "They're past my help. And I know no Canadians or Russians have come to remove the bodies, or they'd still be at it. There were a lot of bodies."
"That Russian soldier you mentioned--"
"Has to be gone by now. Like I said, he was coming to. And no one who took a look around that trench would stay a minute longer than he had to."
They had no trouble picking up the bear's tracks. As they plodded after him, Lodz reflected that Scudder was probably thankful for the distraction provided by a problem unrelated to the war.
Of course, we'll be in deep trouble if we run into a clutch of Germans! Maybe they'll be confused for a few seconds by not recognizing his uniform, and that will give us time to take cover.
He forgot that concern as he almost stumbled over a body--and looking down, saw that it had been partly eaten by an animal. He hoped his companion wouldn't notice. When he glanced at him, the revulsion on Scudder's face told him that was a forlorn hope. But Scudder merely said quietly, "Canadian," and walked on.
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The men had been walking for about a half hour when they heard shouts up ahead--more precisely, shrieks, followed by a burst of gunfire. Amid more yelling, Lodz caught the word bear and realized the agitated men were English speakers. All of them, apparently, though their curses were more inventive than any he'd heard before.
A stray bullet whizzed by his head.
Scudder began waving his arms and yelling, "Hold your fire! Canadian, Canadian!"
They heard more curses, but now other voices were urging, "Stop shooting! There are men out there we can't see!"
Floundering in the unnatural darkness, they finally met up. Ten scared-looking Canadian soldiers were clustered together, jumping at every sound, poised to fire at any moment and in any direction. As soon as he saw them, the seeming leader called out, "Here, stay with us! We're after a killer bear!"
At that moment Bruno crashed through the remnant of some kind of barrier and blundered into view. Several men screamed, and several others fired panicky shots--nowhere near him. The bear growled and reared on his hind legs.
Lodz gave a scream of his own. But while he was rooted to the spot, he saw Scudder race to interpose himself between the other soldiers and the bear. "Stop!" Scudder was yelling. "Don't kill him! There's no need--I have the trainer!"
The soldiers howled in fury, but two of them grabbed the gun barrels of would-be shooters and made them fire harmlessly into the ground.
Unfortunately, the crazed Bruno seemed about to charge Scudder.
Lodz covered the distance between them in a heartbeat. "Nyet, Bruno! Nyet!" They'd been in Russia for several years; that was the language he'd been using most.
For a horrible moment he saw no recognition in the bear's wild eyes. He got between it and Scudder, cracking the whip in his usual, non-threatening way. Oh God, don't make me have to use it...
Recognition dawned. Within seconds Bruno's growls faded to a low, affectionate rumble. He planted his front paws on Lodz's shoulders and began nuzzling him. Suddenly, tears were streaming down Lodz's cheeks. Bruno, I've missed you so! I'm sorry about this wretched war, but it will be over soon. Don't worry, I'll never let you out of my sight again.
A voice screamed "Nooo!" Something or someone slammed into Lodz, sending both him and the bear sprawling.
As he fell he heard three shots, and realized they'd just missed.
Scudder was on top of him, but quickly scrambled to his feet. He and the other Canadians were shouting at each other. Lodz sat up to see Scudder standing with arms outspread, determinedly shielding him and the momentarily stunned bear. He got the impression Scudder was defying a superior officer.
"The bear's a rogue, a killer!" the red-faced officer yelled. "Once they've tasted human blood you have to kill them!"
Lodz jumped up just as Bruno did, and set about restraining him. He took a quick look around for his rifle, but he'd dropped it and it was out of reach.
"Are you sure he killed anyone?" Scudder was demanding. "I've seen a half-dozen bodies he mangled, but they all looked like they'd already had fatal wounds from enemy fire."
"No, I'm not sure," the officer admitted, "but what difference does it make? The thing's a bear, not a person! Better safe than sorry."
"I'm telling you there's no need! I have his trainer here--the man risked his life to come after that bear! If he can keep him under control, he deserves a chance to take him back to the carnival. Then he, an expert, can determine whether he's still fit to perform or has to be destroyed. Haven't we seen enough death, without killing an animal needlessly?"
Lodz clung to Bruno, who was now whimpering like a child, frightened by the loud voices. A strange champion we have, Bruno, a man who used to bite small animals' heads off. I wonder if he'll be able to go back to that after the war?
"This isn't your decision to make," the officer said angrily.
"The hell it isn't." Scudder cocked his rifle. "If you want to harm the bear you'll have to go through me. And I will shoot."
"You'll be court-martialed--"
"I doubt it. I'm defending a civilian, because you can't do anything to the bear without endangering the trainer."
The officer let out a string of oaths, but at last he lowered his gun. "All right, but get them the hell out of here." In a feeble attempt to save face, he ordered, "You escort them back to the carnival!"
Scudder saluted smartly and said, "Yes, sir!"
Minutes later, when Lodz made a shaky attempt to thank him, he grinned and said, "We carnies have to stick together."
