Kitabı oku: «Jack Ranger's Gun Club: or, From Schoolroom to Camp and Trail», sayfa 5

CHAPTER XI
THE GUN CLUB

For a few moments after Jack’s disappearance into the burning school, the spectators, pupils and teachers hardly knew what to do or say. The thick volumes of smoke that rolled out, even though they knew the fire in the boiler-room was under control, seemed to indicate that the conflagration was raging in some other part of the building.

“Ach! Dot brafe Ranger fellow!” exclaimed Professor Garlach. “He vill burned be alretty yet! Ach Himmel! Der school will down burn!”

“So! Sacre!” exclaimed the French professor. “It iss too true, zat which you speak. Terrible! terrible!”

“Und dose odder boys! Der flames vill gonsume dem also!” wailed the German.

“But ze flags – ze flags of our countries – zey are safe!” exclaimed Professor Socrat, and at this thought the two former enemies threw their arms about each other.

Meanwhile, Jack was dashing upstairs.

“I don’t see any signs of fire,” he said. “I believe it’s only smoke, after all.”

Up he went to the floor where Dock Snaith and his cronies had their rooms. The smoke was very thick, but there were no evidences of flame. And as Jack reached the trio, who were still leaning out of the window and calling for help, he saw that a lighted gasjet, reflecting through the clouds of vapor, had made it appear as if there were flames.

“Oh! will no one save us!” cried Snaith. “Fellows, I guess we’re going to die!” and he began to whimper.

“No! no!” yelled Pud Armstrong. “Let’s jump!”

“I’m – I’m afraid!” blubbered Snaith.

“Come on!” cried Jack, bursting into the room. “There’s no danger. It’s only smoke. The fire’s ’most out.”

“Are you – are you sure?” faltered Glen Forker.

“Yes. Come on! It’s all down in the boiler-room.”

Thus assured, the three bullies, who were the worst kind of cowards, followed Jack through the smoke-filled corridors. When the four appeared there was a cheer, and Professors Socrat and Garlach embraced each other again.

“It’s all out!” cried Nat Anderson, running from the boiler-room. “Fire’s all out!”

He was smoke-begrimed, and his thin clothing was wet through.

“Are you sure there is no more danger?” asked Dr. Mead.

“None at all,” answered Nat.

Jack hurried up to join his chum. The snow was changing into rain, mingled with sleet, and it was freezing as it fell.

“Say, if I was you I’d go in,” exclaimed a voice at Jack’s elbow, and he turned to see a lad standing near him, whose lower jaw was slowly moving up and down, for he was chewing gum.

“Hello, Budge,” said Jack. “Where have you been all this while?” For Budge Rankin, the odd character whom Jack had befriended by getting him the position of assistant janitor at Washington Hall, was clad in overcoat and cap.

“Me? Oh, I’ve been in town,” answered Budge, stretching some gum out of his mouth and beginning to pull it in again by the simple process of winding it around his tongue.

“In town?” questioned Nat.

“Yep. ’Smynightoff.”

“Oh, it was your night off,” repeated Jack, for Budge had a habit of running his words together.

“Yep. Wow! My gum’s frozen!” he exclaimed, pausing in the act of trying to chew it again. “But say,” he added, “if the fire’s out, you’d better go inside. It’s cold here.”

“You’re right; it is,” admitted Jack, shivering.

“Here, take my coat,” spoke Budge, starting to take it off.

“Indeed, I’ll do nothing of the sort,” replied Jack. “I’ll go in and get warm.”

“I guess that’s what we’d all better do,” added Nat, for the wintry wind was beginning to make itself felt, now that the exercise in putting out the fire no longer warmed them.

“Come, young gentlemen, get inside,” called Dr. Mead, and the students filed back into the school. The smoke was rapidly clearing away, and after a tour of the building, to make sure the flames were not lurking in any unsuspected corners, the pupils were ordered to bed.

Jack and his chums managed to get a little sleep before morning, but when our hero awoke, after troubled dreams, he called out:

“Say, Nat, there doesn’t seem to be any steam heat in this room.”

“There isn’t,” announced Nat, after feeling of the radiator. “It’s as cold as a stone.”

“Socker must have let the fire in the boiler get low,” went on Jack. “Probably he thought the blaze last night was enough. B-r-r-r! Let’s get dressed in a hurry and go down where it’s warm.”

They soon descended to the main dining-room, where to their surprise they found a number of shivering students and teachers. There was no warmth in the radiators there, either.

“What’s the matter?” asked Jack.

“Ach, Ranger,” explained Professor Garlach, “der fire from der boiler has avay gone, alretty, und dere is no more hot vasser mit vich more can be made yet. So ve haf der coldness.”

“I should say we did,” commented Jack. “Can’t Socker start a new fire and get up steam?”

“I believe not,” said a voice at Jack’s side, and he turned to see his new friend, Will Williams. “I heard the janitor tell Dr. Mead something was wrong with the boiler. They have gone to look at it.”

“I’m going to get my overcoat,” spoke Nat, and his example was followed by several others, for the room was very chilly. Presently Dr. Mead came in, followed by Socker.

“Young gentlemen of Washington Hall,” began the head of the school, “I regret to inform you that the fire last night has damaged the boiler in such a way that it is impossible to get up steam. I have just made an investigation, and the boiler will have to have extensive repairs. It will take some time to make them, and, I regret to say it, but I will have to close the school until after the holidays – ”

“Hurray!” yelled Nat.

The doctor looked shocked. Then he smiled.

“Such feeling is perhaps natural,” he said, “and I would resent it, only I know that Nat Anderson is a good pupil, who loves his school, as, I hope, you all do. But we cannot hold sessions in cold rooms. Now I suggest that you all retire to the general assembly room. There is a large fireplace there, and I will have the janitor build a blaze in it. You can at least have a warm breakfast, and discuss future plans.”

There was a buzz of excitement at once, and the lads made a rush for the assembly room. There, a little later, somewhat warmed by a big log fire, they ate breakfast. The fire of the night previous, it was learned, had been caused by spontaneous combustion among some oiled rags, and the damage was only in the boiler-room. There had been no need for the fire department from the village, and though Sam had summoned it, the order had been countermanded before the apparatus started, so there was no damage by water to the school. Some smoke-begrimed walls were the only evidence in the upper stories of the fire.

“Well,” remarked Nat Anderson, as Jack and several of his chums gathered around in a warm corner, “no more school for a couple of months, anyhow. Solidified snowballs! but I wonder what we’ll do all that time?”

“Go home and rest up,” suggested Bony Balmore as he cracked a couple of finger knuckles just to keep in practice.

“Rest! Why, we just had one during the summer vacation, Bony,” remarked Fred Kaler.

“Oh, I can use more,” said Bony. “What are you going to do, Jack?”

“I’m going hunting and camping,” announced Jack quietly.

“Hunting?” questioned Nat.

“Camping?” cried Sam Chalmers.

“Sure,” went on Jack. “I’ve been thinking of it for some time, but I didn’t see any opportunity of doing it. I’m going camping and hunting after big game out West, and I wish some of you fellows would go along.”

“We haven’t any guns – that is, such as would do for big game,” objected Nat.

“We can get ’em,” declared Jack. “I was thinking we fellows who went camping before might organize a sort of gun club and take a trip. Now that the school is to close, it will give us just the chance we want.”

“A gun club,” mused Nat. “Say, but that’s a fine idea! Petrified pedestrians! but we’ll call it Jack Ranger’s Gun Club! That will be a dandy name.”

“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” said Jack quickly. “It won’t be my gun club any more than it will be yours or Bony’s or Sam’s.”

“But you’re organizing it.”

“That doesn’t make any difference. Every fellow will pay his own way. We’ll just call it a gun club.”

But, in spite of Jack’s objection, when the organization was perfected a little later, every one thought of it as Jack Ranger’s club, even if they didn’t say so.

“Where could we go hunting?” asked Nat. “There’s no big game around here.”

“I guess you’re right,” admitted Jack, “but I know where there is some, and I’m going.”

“Where?”

“Out in the Shoshone Mountains, in the ‘bad lands’ district of Wyoming. There’s the finest hunting in the United States.”

“Hurrah for the gun club!” cried Nat. “I’m going, too.”

“Well, don’t leave me behind,” pleaded Sam. “I guess you can count me in.”

Jack looked around at the eager faces of his chums. Then off in a corner he saw the somewhat downcast countenance of the new boy – Will Williams.

“I wonder if he wouldn’t like to go, too?” Jack said to himself.

CHAPTER XII
WILL RUNS AWAY

The boys gathered about the warm fire, crowding close around Jack to hear more details of the proposed trip of the gun club.

“I’ve been reading up about hunting big game,” went on Jack, “and I asked my father if I could go the first chance I got. He said I could, and now I’ve got the chance.”

“What are those bad lands?” asked Fred Kaler. “Any Indians out there?”

“Some, I guess. A few Sioux, Crows and some Shoshones. But they’re mostly guides. You see, bad lands are what the Westerners call a region that isn’t very good for anything but hunting. They consist of a lot of sandstone peaks, with deserts here and there.”

“And what can you hunt there?” asked Nat.

“Oh, lots of things. Big-horn sheep, bears, elk, deer, jack-rabbits and birds. It will be lots of sport.”

“Wyoming, eh?” mused Sam. “That’s quite a way off.”

“Yes, it is, but we’ve got lots of time. I’ve been making some inquiries, and they say the best spot to aim for is around the town of Cody, which is named after Buffalo Bill. You see, we can go to Fort Custer, and from there we have to travel in wagons or on horses. I’ve got a route all mapped out. We’ll go along a small stream, called Sage Creek, across the Forty-mile Desert, and hunt along the Shoshone River, near Heart Mountain. It’s a fine hunting ground, and we’ll have no end of fun camping out.”

“But it’ll be cold,” objected Bony. “There’ll be snow.”

“What of it?” asked Jack. “It’ll do you good. We’ll have warm tents, warm clothing, and we can build big camp fires that will make the ones here look like a baby bonfire.”

“Galloping gasmeters!” exclaimed Nat. “When can we start, Jack?”

“Oh, it’ll take some time to get ready. We’ve got to get the guns and camping outfit together.”

The boys talked for some considerable time about the prospective trip. Socker, meanwhile, came in to replenish the fire. In some of the rooms there were stoves and gas heaters, and these were soon in operation to take the chill off the apartments, for the big building, being without steam heat, was like a barn. Budge Rankin came in once with some logs for the fire.

“Goinome?” he said to Jack.

“Going home?” repeated our hero. “That’s what I am, Budge. Are you?”

“SoonsIkin.”

“As soon as you can, eh? Well, it will be this afternoon for mine,” went on Jack. “Can’t stay here and freeze.”

Dr. Mead and his assistants were busy arranging for the departure of the pupils, while the head of the school also telegraphed for new parts of the damaged boiler.

Jack and Nat packed their belongings, and prepared to start for Denton.

“Say, who all are going camping and hunting?” asked Nat, pausing in the act of thrusting his clothes into his trunk.

“Why, I was thinking if we could take the same crowd we had before you and I were captured and taken aboard the Polly Ann this summer, it would be nice,” replied Jack. “There’s you and Bony and Sam and me.”

“And Budge.”

“Oh, yes, Budge. I’ll take him along if he’ll go. He likes to putter around camp, but he doesn’t care much about hunting. He’d rather chew gum.”

Though Budge worked as assistant janitor at Washington Hall, Jack and his chums did not consider that his position was at all degrading. Jack felt that Budge was one of his best friends, and though the lad was poor he was independent, which quality Jack liked in him.

“And I tell you some one else I’m going to take, if I can manage it,” went on our hero.

“Who?”

“Bill Williams. I like that fellow, and he’s had it pretty hard. I’d like to do something for him, and I’m going to ask him to come hunting with us.”

“S’pose he’ll go?”

“I don’t know. Guess I’ll go ask him now. Say, you finish crowding my stuff into my trunk, will you? We want to catch the twelve o’clock train for Denton.”

“Sure,” agreed Nat, ending his packing by the simple process of crowding all that remained of his clothes into the trunk and then jumping on them with both feet, so that they would collapse sufficiently to allow the lid to fasten.

Jack found the new boy sitting in his room beside his trunk and valise.

“All ready to go home?” asked Jack.

“Yes,” was the answer in a sad sort of voice.

“Why, you don’t seem to be very glad that school has closed, giving you an additional vacation,” remarked Jack.

“I’m not.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve got to go and live with my guardian. He hates me. He’ll be twitting me of how I robbed him, when I had no more to do with the loss of his money than – than you did. I was beginning to like it here, but now I’ve got to go back. It’s tough!”

“Say, how would you like to come with me?”

“Come with you? Where?”

“Hunting in the Shoshone Mountains.”

“Do you mean it?” asked Will eagerly, his eyes brightening. He sprang to his feet, all his sadness gone.

“Of course I mean it,” went on Jack. “Some of my chums are going to form a sort of gun club, and I’d like to include you in it. Will you come?”

“Will I come? Say, I – ”

Then the lad paused. The light faded from his eyes. He sank back into his chair.

“No – no,” he said slowly. “I’m much obliged, but I – I guess I can’t go.”

“Why not?”

Will hesitated.

“Well – er – you see – er – the fact is, I haven’t any money. My guardian pays all the bills, and, as I told you, he doesn’t give me any spending money. Not even enough for a postage stamp.”

“That’s tough,” said Jack, “but I guess you didn’t quite understand me. I didn’t ask you to spend any money.”

“How can I go camping and hunting, away off in Wyoming, without money?”

“You’ll go as my guest,” said Jack simply. “I’m inviting you to go with me. The other fellows are coming on their own hook, as members of the gun club, but I’d like to have you come just as my guest. Will you do that?”

“Will I?” Once more the lad’s eyes sparkled. “Of course I will,” he said, “only it doesn’t seem right to have you pay my way. If my uncle only knew of my plight he’d give me some money, I’m sure, but I can’t even write to him. It’s quite mysterious the way he hides himself. I can’t understand it.”

“Then you’ll come?”

“Yes – but I don’t like to feel that it is costing you money.”

“Don’t let that worry you,” said Jack quickly. “I’m pretty well off, and my dad has all the money he can use. I guess you didn’t hear about the gold mine Nat and I helped discover when we were out West looking for my father.”

“No, I never did.”

“Well, that will keep the wolf from howling around the door for a while. I’m real glad you’re coming, Bill. I hope you’ll enjoy it.”

“I know I will. I’m fond of hunting and camping.”

“All right. Now I’m going back to Denton. I s’pose you’re going home, too?”

“Well, it isn’t much of a home. I live in Hickville with my guardian.”

“Hickville, eh? That’s about a hundred miles from Denton. Well, I was going to say that I’ll write you a few days before we start, and you can come on to Denton.”

“All right. I’ll do it.”

“Then I’ll go and finish packing. I left Nat Anderson to do it, and he’s just as likely to put things upside down as right side up. I’ll see you at Denton, then.”

“Yes,” replied Will. But Jack did not see the new boy at Denton, and not until some time after their parting at the school; and when he did see him, it was under strange circumstances.

Good-bys were said among the pupils and teachers of Washington Hall, and Jack and his chums separated, he and Nat journeying to Denton, which they reached that night, much to the surprise of Mr. Ranger, Jack’s three aunts, and Nat’s folks.

Jack lost no time in beginning his preparations for the camping trip, his father consenting that the gun club might be formed. Our hero wrote many letters, arranged for transportation to the West, got into communication with a guide near Cody, Wyoming, and invited Budge to go along.

“Sure I’ll go,” said the gum-chewing lad as he placed into his mouth a fresh wad of the sticky substance. “When’ll it be?”

“In about two weeks,” said Jack. “There are quite a few things to do yet.”

In the meanwhile, Nat Anderson, Sam Chalmers and Bony Balmore had secured permission from their parents to go with Jack, and they were busy at their respective homes, making up their kits. Sam and Bony lived about a day’s journey from Denton.

“Now I’ll write to Bill, and invite him to come on,” said Jack one night, and then he waited for a reply from the lad with whom he had so recently become friends.

“Here’s Bill’s answer,” said Jack to Nat one afternoon a few days later, when they went down to the post-office, and Jack received a letter marked “Hickville.”

As Jack read it he uttered a low whistle.

“What’s the matter? Can’t he come?” asked Nat.

“No. This is from his rascally guardian. It’s to me. Bill’s run away.”

CHAPTER XIII
OFF ON THE TRIP

Nat stood still in the street and stared at Jack.

“What’s that you said?” he asked.

“Bill’s run away. Listen and I’ll read the letter to you. It says: ‘A few days ago my ward, William Williams, returned from Washington Hall, greatly to my regret. He explained the cause of his enforced vacation, and stated that you had asked him to go off on a hunting trip. Of course, I refused to let him go. In the first place I don’t believe in hunting, and for a lad of William’s age to go off to the West, where he may learn bad habits, is not the thing. Besides, I cannot trust him away from the authority of older persons.’”

“Wouldn’t that jolt you?” commented Jack as he looked up from the letter.

Nat nodded.

“Suffering snufflebugs!” he exclaimed. “That’s the limit – isn’t it, Jack?”

“Pretty near. Listen; there’s more to it: ‘When I told my ward that he could not go, he answered me very sharply that if his uncle was here he could get permission. That may be, but his uncle is not here. He begged to be allowed to go, but I was firm in my refusal. I do not believe in such nonsense as camping out, and I told William so.

“‘The other day, to my surprise, he disappeared from my home, and I have not been able to get a trace of him. I am forced to come to the conclusion that he has run away in a fit of anger, because I would not let him go camping with you. I hold you partly to blame for this, as it was wrong of you to ask him to go. I must therefore ask you, in case you see him, to at once compel him to return to me. I absolutely forbid him to go camping with you, and should he join you, you must send him back. He has defied me, and must be punished. If you see him, turn him over to the nearest police officer, inform me, and I will come and get him.’”

“Well, wouldn’t that loosen your liver pin!” exclaimed Nat. “Do you s’pose he’s coming here, Jack?”

“I don’t know. I’m glad he ran away from such a mean man as Mr. Gabel, though. The idea of not letting him go camping! It’s a shame!”

“Will you make him go back if he does come?”

“Will I? Not much! I’ll take him camping.”

“That’s the stuff!” cried Nat. “Gollywoggled gimlet giblets! but some persons can be mean when they try real hard! I wonder if he will come here?”

“It’s hard to say,” replied Jack. “He showed spunk, though, in running away, and I guess he couldn’t have taken any money with him, either, for his guardian never let him have any. Well, if he comes I’ll look out for him, and I’ll not hand him over to a policeman, either.”

“Say,” called a voice from the other side of the street. “Bettergome, Jack.”

“Better go home – what for, Budge?” asked Jack as he saw the queer, gum-loving lad coming toward him.

“Some of your camping stuff arrived, and your aunts don’t know where to put it. It’s all over the parlor floor,” explained Budge, taking his gum out of his mouth in order to speak more plainly.

“I hope it’s my new gun!” exclaimed Jack. “Come on, Nat, let’s hurry. Did they send you after me, Budge?” for the assistant janitor used to do chores for Jack’s aunts, and was constantly around the house.

“’Swat,” replied Budge, that being his gum version of “That’s what.”

Jack and Nat hurried to the former’s house. They found several packages strewn about the parlor, while Jack’s three maiden aunts were sitting in chairs, staring helplessly at the accumulation of stuff.

“Oh, Jack!” exclaimed Aunt Angelina. “Whatever is in all those packages? The man who brought them told us to be careful, as one was marked firearms.”

“That’s all right,” said Jack easily. “It’s only some guns and cartridges I expect, Aunt Angelina.”

“But – but suppose it should blow up the place, Jack dear?” asked Aunt Mary.

“Yes, and break my best set of china,” added Aunt Josephine. “Oh, Jack, take them away, please!”

“All right,” exclaimed Jack. “I’ll give you a correct imitation of Marinello Booghoobally, alias Hemp Smith, making things disappear. Catch hold, Nat, and we’ll take them out to our private office,” and with his chum’s aid Jack had soon removed the offending packages to a loft over the barn, which he had fitted up as a sort of clubroom.

“Now, Jack, be careful,” cautioned Mr. Ranger as he saw his son busily engaged. “You know the danger of firearms.”

“Sure, dad. Say, I wish you were going hunting with us. Why can’t you?”

“I had enough of the West,” remarked Mr. Ranger, as he thought of his enforced stay there for many years. “I’m not going back. You brought me home, Jack, and I’m going to stay East. But I hope you have a good time.”

“I guess we will, if Jack has anything to do with it,” remarked Nat. “Say, Jack, that’s a dandy gun.”

“Pretty fair,” observed our hero, as he brought to view a fine new rifle, which he had sent for.

There was also a shotgun in the outfit, and many other things to be used on the trail and in camp. Nat’s eyes showed his admiration.

“Jumping jillflowers!” he exclaimed, “but you are certainly doing this up good and brown, Jack.”

“Yes, I don’t like anything half done. It’s bad for the digestion. You’ve got a gun, haven’t you?”

“Oh, yes, a pretty fair one. But I wish I had one like yours.”

“You can use it whenever you want to,” was Jack’s generous offer. “Budge hasn’t any, and I’m going to let him take my old rifle, though I expect he’ll get the lock all stuck up with gum, so it won’t shoot.”

“I’m glad Budge is going. He’ll keep things lively.”

“Yes, and I’m sorry Bill Williams can’t go. I s’pose I’ve got to write to his guardian, and tell him I haven’t seen Bill. Well, we’re almost ready. I guess we can start in about three days.”

“When will Sam and Bony arrive?”

“I expect them to-morrow. Then we’ll make for the West, for the mountains, the bad lands, the desert, and the home of big game! Whoop! La-la! Hold me down, Nat! I’m feeling fine!”

Jack began dancing about the loft, and the loose boards of the floor made such a racket as he leaped about, pulling Nat this way and that in his enthusiasm, that Budge, who was cleaning out the stable, called up from below:

“’Sanythingwrong?”

“No, nothing’s wrong, you old gum-masticating specimen of a big-horn sheep,” replied Nat. “We’re just working off some steam, that’s all.”

“Better send it back to Washington Hall,” advised Budge. “They need it there.”

“That’s right,” laughed Jack.

Sam Chalmers and Bony Balmore arrived the next day, and were entertained at Jack’s house. Preparations were rushed, Nat and Budge finishing their packing, and two days later, with their guns, their camping outfits, and their baggage, they stood in the railroad station, ready to start for the West.

It was a fine, clear, crisp November day, all traces of the recent storm having disappeared, and it seemed as if winter, having sent on an advance agent, rather repented of opening the season so early.

“It will be fine hunting weather,” said Jack as he and his chums waited for the train.

“Couldn’t be better,” agreed Nat.

At that moment the agent came hurrying from the depot, holding aloft an envelope.

“Here’s a telegram for you, Jack Ranger,” he said as he handed it over. “It just came.”

“A telegram?” mused Jack. “I wonder who it’s from?”

He tore open the envelope, and as he read the message he gave a start.