Kitabı oku: «Jack Ranger's Gun Club: or, From Schoolroom to Camp and Trail», sayfa 11

CHAPTER XXVIII
WILL SAVES JACK’S LIFE

“What do you think of that, Jack?” asked Nat. “Bullyragging bean-poles! but who would have expected to meet Jerry Chowden out here? What do you make of it?”

“I don’t know,” Jack replied. “I’m as much surprised as you are. Not only at seeing him, but at meeting those men, and at being ordered back.”

“Do you think Jerry had anything to do with them making us move away?”

“How do you mean?”

“I mean do you think he told those men lies about us? Such as saying we were dangerous characters, and not safe to have around?”

“No, I hardly think that. I believe those men have something to conceal, and would order back any one who they thought would discover their secret. They ordered us back before Jerry appeared and recognized us.”

“That’s so. But how do you suppose he came to get in with them?”

“I don’t know. It’s all part of the same puzzle, I think – the mysterious sounds, the queer marks in the snow, and all that. Of course, Jerry may have met them by accident, and they might have hired him. We knew he came out West, you know, after the part he played in kidnapping us, and very likely he was willing to do any kind of rascally work these men wanted.”

“Yes, that’s probable. But what do you s’pose it is?”

“I give it up; that is, for the time being. But I’m going to solve this mystery, Nat, if it takes all winter. We’ve got something to do now besides hunt. We’ll see what these men are up to. Maybe it’s something criminal, such as Jonas Lavine and his gang were mixed up in.”

“I hardly think that.”

“What do you think, then?”

“I believe they have some rare kind of animal or bird, or, maybe, several of them, and they are going to place them on exhibition. For I’m sure the noise we heard, and the marks in the snow, were made by some gigantic bird.”

“Oh, you’re away off,” declared Jack. “It isn’t possible.”

“That’s all right. ’Most anything is possible nowadays,” answered Nat.

They soon rejoined their comrades, and told them what had happened. Sam was for going on, defying the men, and administering a sound drubbing to Jerry.

“Then we’ll find out what’s up,” he said, “and end all this suspense.”

“Yes, and maybe get into trouble,” objected Jack. “There must be several men in that camp, if it was a camp, and those we saw seemed ready to use their guns on us. No, I think we’ll have to prospect around a bit first, until we see how the land lays. I’m not going to run into danger. We made a mistake by moving too suddenly in the bogus stock certificate case, and only because of good luck were the rascals caught. I’m going a little slower this time.”

“Jerry Chowden is certainly going to the bad fast,” declared Bony.

“We don’t know that he is in anything bad this time,” said Jack. “It may be all right, and those men may be engaged in some regular business. But I admit it looks suspicious.”

A sharp snowstorm kept the boys in camp the next two days, but on the third, as fresh meat was getting low, they started off again after game, leaving Budge and Long Gun, as usual, in charge of the place.

“Boys, we’ve got to get something this time,” said Jack. “The place is like Mother Hubbard’s cupboard, almost bare, so don’t despise even jack-rabbits, though, of course, a nice deer or a sheep would go better.”

They had been directed by Long Gun to take a trail that led obliquely up the side of the mountain, as the Indian said it was a likely place for game, and at noon they camped in a little clearing for lunch, having had no sight of anything bigger than squirrels, which they would not shoot.

“I tell you what it is,” said Jack, after thinking the matter over, “I believe we’re too closely bunched. We ought to divide up, some go one way, and some the other. We’d be more likely to see something then. We can make a circle, and work our way around back to camp by nightfall.”

“All right,” agreed Sam. “Bony and I will take the trail to the left, and you can go to the right with Nat and Will. I’ll wager we beat you, too.”

“That’s a go,” agreed Jack. “Come on.”

A little later the two parties of young hunters separated, and were soon lost to sight of each other.

For an hour or more Jack, Nat and Will slowly urged their horses through the light snow. They kept a sharp lookout for signs of game, but were beginning to despair of seeing any, when Jack uttered a cry.

“There’s been a deer along here,” he said. “And not long ago, either, if I’m any judge of the signs Long Gun taught us.”

“It does look so,” admitted Nat. “Easy, now, and maybe we can trail him.”

“We’d better leave our horses, though,” Jack went on. “It’s bad going, and they make quite a bit of noise.”

“I’ll stay with them,” volunteered Nat. “I’ve had my share of good shots lately. Let Will have a show. You and he go ahead, Jack.”

Jack did not want to leave Nat, but his chum insisted that some one had to stay with the animals, and he wanted to do it. So Will and Jack started off alone to trail the deer.

They went on about a mile, the trail becoming fresher at every step, until Will, who was close behind Jack, gently touched his companion on the arm and pointed to the left.

There, framed in a little opening of the trees, pawing the snow off the grass in a little glade, stood a noble buck mule deer, the largest Jack had ever seen. The animal had not heard nor scented them.

“Take the shot, Will,” urged Jack. “You may never get another like that.”

“No, I’d rather you would.”

“Nonsense. I’ve shot several of ’em. You take it.”

“I’d rather you would.”

“Go on,” urged Jack in a whisper. “Wait, though, we’ll move forward a bit, and you work off to the left. You’ll get a better shot then. The wind’s just right.”

They went forward a few feet cautiously, until they stood just on the edge of the clearing. Then Will, stepping a few paces to the left, raised his rifle. No sooner had he done so than, to his surprise and regret, his arms began to shake violently. He had a severe touch of “buck fever.”

“I – I can’t do it. I’m too nervous,” he said in a whisper to Jack.

“Nonsense. Wait a minute and aim again. You’ll be all right in a second. Take a long breath and count five.”

Will did as directed, but it was no use. The muzzle of his rifle wobbled more than ever when he tried to aim.

“I – I can’t,” he whispered again. “You shoot, Jack.”

Then, realizing that Will was too nervous to do it, and not wanting to see the buck escape, as they needed fresh meat in camp, Jack took aim and pulled the trigger.

At the instant the report rang out, the buck raised his head, wheeled around, and catching sight of Jack standing on the edge of the clearing, came at him almost as fast as an express train. He had been only slightly wounded, and, full of rage, he had only one desire – to annihilate the person responsible for the stinging pain he felt.

Jack saw him coming, and threw down the lever of his rifle to pump another cartridge into the chamber. But, to his horror, the lever refused to work. It had become jammed in some way, and the exploded shell could not be ejected. He pulled and tugged at it, the buck coming nearer by leaps and bounds.

“Jump – jump!” Jack heard Will cry, and realizing that he could not get in another shot, he leaped to one side, hoping to get out of the way of the infuriated animal.

But his foot caught in the entangled branch of a bush, and he fell backward, full length, right in the path of the advancing buck, that was snorting with rage.

Jack tried to roll over, but the bush held him fast. He felt that it was all up with him, and he closed his eyes, expecting the next instant to feel the buck leap on him, to pierce him with its keen hoofs.

Jack could hear the thundering approach of the big creature, and he could feel the tremor of the ground as the brute came nearer. He fancied he could see the big bulk in the air over him.

Then there sounded a sharp crack, followed by a thud, and the black shape seemed to pass to one side. There was a shock as a big body hit the ground, a great crashing among the bushes, and Jack opened his eyes to see the buck lying dead a few feet away from him.

Then he saw something else. It was Will, running toward him, a smoking rifle in his hands.

“Are you – are you all right?” asked Will, his voice trembling.

“Yes,” said Jack, hardly able to speak, because of the reaction of the shock through which he had just passed. “I’m all right. Did you shoot the buck?”

“I – I guess so,” replied Will with a nervous laugh. “I aimed my rifle at him and pulled the trigger, anyhow.”

Jack went over to the big body, that had not ceased quivering.

“Right through the heart,” he said, as he saw where the bullet had gone in. “Bill, you saved my life!”

CHAPTER XXIX
THE BLIZZARD

Jack extended his hand, and clasped that of Will’s in a firm grip.

“This would have ended my hunting days if you hadn’t fired,” he said.

“Maybe he would have leaped over you,” said Will. “He was coming very fast.”

“I saw he was. He’d have jumped right on me, too, and that would have been the finish of yours truly. My, but that was a crack shot of yours.”

“I didn’t seem to take any aim. As soon as I saw him coming for you, I seemed to get steady all at once, and I didn’t tremble a bit.”

“Lucky for me you didn’t. My rifle went back on me just at the wrong minute.”

“What’s the matter with it?”

“I don’t know. I must take a look. It’s risky to be hunting with such a rifle.”

Jack looked for the cause of the trouble, and found that in taking the gun apart to clean it he had not screwed in far enough a certain bolt, which projected and prevented the breech mechanism from working. The trouble was soon remedied, and the rifle was ready for use again.

“Well, you can shoot the next buck,” remarked Will as the two looked at the carcass of the big animal.

“Not to-day. I’d shake worse than you did if I tried to aim. We’ll do no more hunting to-day. We’ll go back and get Nat, and take this to camp. There’s enough for a week.”

It was with no little difficulty that the three boys loaded the best parts of the buck on their horses and started back to camp. They found that Sam and Bony had arrived ahead of them, Sam having killed a fine ram.

“Well, I know what I’m going to do to-day,” remarked Jack the next morning.

“What?” inquired Nat.

“I’m going to have another try at that mystery.”

“Do you think it’ll be safe?”

“I don’t see why. I’m going to try to get to that camp from another trail, and if they see me the worst they can do will be to order me away again.”

“I’m with you,” declared Nat, and the others agreed to accompany the senior member of the gun club.

They started directly after breakfast, Jack, Nat, Sam, Bony and Will. Jack, making inquiries of Long Gun, learned of another trail that could be taken. They rode along this for several miles, and then proceeded cautiously, as they judged they were near where the hostile men had their camp.

Suddenly Nat, who was riding along beside Jack, stopped his horse and began sniffing the air.

“Smell anything?” he asked his chum.

Jack took several long breaths. Then he nodded.

“Gasolene, eh?” questioned Nat. “Cæsar’s pancakes! but I believe we’re on the track of those same bogus certificate printers again!”

“It can’t be,” declared Jack.

“But smell the gasolene.”

“I know it, but it might be from an automobile.”

“An automobile out here? Nonsense! Listen, you can hear the pounding of the engine.”

Certainly there was an odd throbbing noise, but just as Jack was beginning to locate it again the sound ceased.

“Never mind, fellows,” he said. “We’ll follow the smell of the gasolene. I don’t believe it’s the same gang that we were on the trail of before, but we’ll soon find out. Keep together, now.”

They went on for perhaps half a mile farther, when there was a sudden motion among the bushes on the trail ahead of them, and a man’s voice called out:

“Halt!”

It was one of the three men who had, a few days previous, warned Jack and Nat away.

“Where are you going?” the man demanded.

“We were looking for your camp,” said Jack boldly.

“Our camp?”

The man seemed much surprised.

“Yes. We wanted to see what sort of a place you had. We smelled the gasolene, and heard the engine, and – ”

“Now look here!” exclaimed the man angrily. “You’ve been told once to keep away from here, and this is the second time. The next time you won’t hear us tell you. We’ll shoot without warning. And we won’t shoot you, either, for we think you’re here more out of curiosity than anything else, but we’ll shoot your horses, and you know what it means to be without a horse out here. So if you know what’s good for you, keep away.”

“Yes,” added another voice. “You’d better keep away from here, Jack Ranger, if you don’t want to get into trouble.”

“Oh, it’s you, is it, Jerry Chowden?” spoke our hero. “I wonder if your new friends know as much about you as we do?”

“Never you mind!” exclaimed Jerry quickly. “You mind your own business, and let me alone.”

“That’s what I’ve often wished you to do for me,” spoke Jack. “Do you know that there is a warrant out for your arrest if you ever come back in the neighborhood of Denton?”

Jerry gave a frightened look over his shoulder. The man who had halted the lads had stepped back into the bushes.

“You clear out of here, Jack Ranger. And you, too, Nat Anderson and the rest of the bunch!” snapped Jerry, and then he drew from his pocket a revolver.

“Look out, Jerry, that might go off,” remarked Jack with a laugh.

“Don’t you make fun of me!” ordered the bully. “I’m working here, and I’ve got authority to order you away.”

“That’s right, Jerry, tell ’em to vamoose,” added the man who had first spoken, as he again came into view. “We don’t want any spies around here.”

Another man joined the first, and the two looked angrily at the intruders. They were armed with shotguns.

“What do you want?” asked the second man.

“Oh,” said Nat lightly, “we just came to call on an acquaintance of ours – Jerry Chowden. The police back East would like to see him, and we’ve just told him.”

“That’s not so!” cried Jerry angrily.

“You’re afraid to go back,” added Jack.

“I am not! You mind your own business and clear out!”

“Yes, move on,” ordered the first man, but Jack noted that he looked closely at Jerry, as if to determine the effect of the charges made against the bully.

There seemed to be nothing else to do, and the boys turned back.

“Beaten again,” remarked Jack, as they headed for camp. “Well, there’s just one other way of discovering their secret.”

“What is it?” asked Nat.

“Go down the mountain, directly back of their camp, only it’s dangerous because it’s so steep. We can’t take the horses. I’ll try that way, however, before I’ll let Jerry Chowden laugh at us.”

“So will I,” answered Nat, and Sam and Bony said the same thing.

“I think we’re in for a storm,” remarked Will as they jogged along. “It’s beginning to snow.”

A few flakes were sifting lazily down, and they increased by the time the boys reached camp, where they found Budge and Long Gun busy tightening the tent ropes and piling the wood and provisions within the smaller supply tent.

“What’s the matter?” asked Jack.

“Storm comin’,” replied the Indian. “Plenty much bad. Git ready.”

Early the next morning Jack and his chums were awakened by the wind howling about their tent. It was cold, in spite of heavy blankets and thick clothing.

“B-r-r-r!” exclaimed Jack as he crawled out and went to the flap of the tent. Then he gave a startled cry.

“Boys, it’s a regular blizzard!” he said.

Nothing could be seen but a white wall of fiercely swirling snowflakes, while the wind was howling through the trees, threatening every minute to collapse the tent. But Long Gun had done his work well, and the canvas shelter stood.

CHAPTER XXX
JACK’S HAZARDOUS PLAN

The boys crowded up around Jack and peered through an opening in the tent flap.

“Blizzard! I should say so!” exclaimed Nat. “It’s fierce! How are we going to cook any breakfast?”

“Me show,” answered Long Gun with a grin. Then he pointed to where he and Budge, the day before, had constructed, inside the living tent, a small fireplace of stones and earth. There was a piece of pipe that extended outside the canvas wall, and in the improvised stove a blaze was soon started, over which coffee was made, and some bacon fried.

“Let’s go out and see what it’s like,” proposed Sam, as he wrapped himself up warmly.

“No go far,” cautioned Long Gun. “No git back if yo’ do. Heap bad storm.”

“There’s no danger of Sam going too far,” said Jack. “He’s too fond of the warm stove.”

“Get out!” replied Sam. “I can stand as much cold as you can.”

But none of the boys cared to be long in that biting cold, for the wind sent the snowflakes into their faces with stinging force, and the white crystals came down so thickly that had they gone far from the tent it is doubtful if they could have found their way back again.

The horses were sheltered in a shack that had been built of saplings, with leaves and earth banked around it and on the roof, and the animals, huddled closely together, were warm and comfortable.

Inside the big tent, where the members of the gun club stayed, it was not cold, for Long Gun and Budge kept the fire going in the stone stove, and as the tent was well banked around the bottom, but little of the biting wind entered.

Nothing could be done, as it was not safe to venture out, so the boys put in the day cleaning their guns, polishing some of the horn trophies they had secured, and talking of what had happened so far on their camping trip.

Toward evening Long Gun went out to the supply tent to get some meat to cook. He came back in a hurry, his face showing much surprise.

“What’s the matter?” asked Jack quickly.

“Meat gone!” exclaimed the Indian. “Something take him from tent.”

The boys rushed out into the storm toward the smaller canvas shelter where their food and supplies were kept. One side had been torn down, and within there was a scene of confusion.

In the fierceness of the storm, while the campers had been in the big tent, some wild beast, or, perhaps, several of them, had stolen up and carried away most of the food on which Jack and his chums depended. Nor could it be said what beasts had robbed them, for their tracks were obliterated by the snow that had fallen since.

“Well, this is tough luck!” exclaimed Jack. “What are we going to do now?”

“There’s some bacon left from breakfast,” said Budge. “Have to eat that, I guess.”

“Yes; and, thank goodness, the thieves didn’t care for coffee,” added Nat. “We sha’n’t starve, at least, to-night.”

“There’s some canned stuff left, too,” went on Will.

“But it won’t last long, if this storm keeps up,” spoke Jack seriously. “I guess we’re going to be up against it, fellows.”

“Like fish?” asked Long Gun suddenly.

“What have fish got to do with it?” inquired Bony.

“Catch fish through ice soon. Storm stop,” replied the Indian. “River plenty full fish.”

“That’s a good idea,” commented Jack. “But when will the blizzard stop?”

It kept up all that night and part of the next day. The campers were on short rations, as regards meat, though there was plenty of canned baked beans, and enough hardtack for some time yet, while there was flour that could be made into biscuits. But they needed meat, or something like it, in that cold climate.

It was late the next afternoon when Jack, looking from the tent, announced:

“Hurrah, fellows! It’s stopped snowing, and the wind has gone down. Now for some fish through the ice. Long Gun, come on and show us how.”

The Indian got some lines and hooks ready, using salt pork for bait. Then the whole party went down to the river, traveling on snowshoes, for there was a great depth to the snow, and it was quite soft.

It was no easy task to scrape away the white blanket and get down to the ice that covered the river, but they managed it. Holes were chopped in the frozen surface of the stream, and then they all began to fish. They had good luck, and soon had caught enough of the finny residents of the Shoshone to make a good meal.

“Um-um!” exclaimed Bony, as they sat down to supper a little later. “Maybe this doesn’t taste fine!” and he extended his plate for some more of the fish, fried brown in corn meal, with bacon as a flavoring.

The next day Jack, Nat and Sam went out and killed some jack-rabbits, and this served them until two days later, when Jack killed a fat ram and Will a small deer.

All danger of a short food supply was thus obviated, and, the damaged tent having been repaired, the boys prepared to resume their hunt.

“We’ve only about three weeks more,” announced Jack one night. “If we stay much longer we may get snowed in and have to stay until spring.”

“Well, that wouldn’t be so bad,” spoke Bony.

“I know why Jack wants to start back,” spoke Sam. “He is going to stop at Pryor’s Gap and see a certain party with brown eyes, who – ”

Then Sam dodged to avoid the snowshoe which his chum threw across the tent at him.

“When are we going to make another try to discover the secret of the strange camp?” asked Nat when quiet was restored.

“That’s so. When?” asked Will. “We haven’t heard that queer noise lately.”

“We’ll see what we can do to-morrow,” answered Jack.

That night the lads were startled by again hearing that strange sound in the air over their camp. But this time it seemed farther away, and only lasted a short time, while Jack, who rushed out the moment he heard it, could discover nothing.

Jack, Nat, Sam, Bony and Will started off early the next morning on snowshoes for the top of the mountain, in accordance with a plan Jack had formed of trying to reach the camp of the men from a point directly back of the place whence they had been ordered away.

They reached the summit of the mountain and found, as Long Gun had said they would, a trail leading directly down. But it was so steep and so covered with snow that it seemed risky to attempt it.

“We can never get down there,” said Nat.

“Sure we can,” declared Jack.

“We might if we had some of those long, wooden snowshoes, like barrel-staves, which the Norwegians use,” spoke Sam. “Otherwise I don’t see how we’re going to do it.”

Jack did not reply. Instead he was walking slowly along what seemed to be an abandoned trail. Suddenly he uttered an exclamation.

“The very thing!” he cried.

“What?” asked Bony.

“That old sled,” answered Jack, pointing to a sort of bobsled, that had evidently been made by lumbermen. It consisted of a platform of slabs, on long, broad, wooden runners, and stood near an abandoned camp.

“How can we use that?” asked Nat.

“Get on it and slide down the mountain,” daringly proposed Jack. “There’s plenty of snow. The old sled will hold us all, and maybe we can ride right into their camp lickity-split. Then they can’t put us out until we’ve seen what’s going on. Will you go?”

The boys hesitated a moment. It was a hazardous plan, one fraught with danger, but they were not the lads to draw back for that. It seemed the only feasible way of getting down the mountain.