George Nidiver

by Unknown

Men have done brave deeds,

And bards have sung them well:

I of good George Nidiver

Now the tale will tell.

In Californian mountains

A hunter bold was he:

Keen his eye and sure his aim

As any you should see.

A little Indian boy

Followed him everywhere,

Eager to share the hunter's joy,

The hunter's meal to share.

And when the bird or deer

Fell by the hunter's skill,

The boy was always near

To help with right good will.

One day as through the cleft

Between two mountains steep,

Shut in both right and left,

Their questing way they keep,

They see two grizzly bears

With hunger fierce and fell

Rush at them unawares

Right down the narrow dell.

The boy turned round with screams,

And ran with terror wild;

One of the pair of savage beasts

Pursued the shrieking child.

The hunter raised his gun, -

He knew one charge was all, -

And through the boy's pursuing foe

He sent his only ball.

The other on George Nidiver

Came on with dreadful pace:

The hunter stood unarmed,

And met him face to face.

I say unarmed he stood.

Against those frightful paws

The rifle butt, or club of wood,

Could stand no more than straws.

George Nidiver stood still

And looked him in the face;

The wild beast stopped amazed,

Then came with slackening pace.

Still firm the hunter stood,

Although his heart beat high;

Again the creature stopped,

And gazed with wondering eye.

The hunter met his gaze,

Nor yet an inch gave way;

The bear turned slowly round,

And slowly moved away.

What thoughts were in his mind

It would be hard to spell:

What thoughts were in George Nidiver

I rather guess than tell.

But sure that rifle's aim,

Swift choice of generous part,

Showed in its passing gleam

The depths of a brave heart.