Jack Ranger's Gun Club; Or, From Schoolroom to Camp and Trail

CHAPTER IX
AN ALARM OF FIRE

“Now I guess we can eat,” announced Jack. “Bill, pass that plate of sandwiches at your elbow. Fred, juggle the doughnuts down this way. Sam, don’t let those pies go to sleep. Bob, you open some of the ginger-ale, but don’t let it pop too loud, or Doc. Mead may think it’s the safety valve of the boiler going off, and send Martin to investigate.”

The lads were soon actively engaged in putting away the good things, and then, for a time, conversation languished, save for intermittent remarks.

“Are you having a good time, boys?” asked Socker, poking his head in the storeroom, after having shoveled some coal on the fire.

“We sure are, and we’re much obliged to you,” replied Jack.

“Oh, that’s all right. It reminds me, to see you all eating, of how I once was nearly starved in Andersonville prison. I was in there——”

“I’m coming out to hear that story in about five minutes, Socker,” interrupted Jack. “Have it all ready for me.”

“I will,” promised the janitor, as he went back to look at the boiler.

It was a merry time, and Will, or, as the boys called him, Bill, enjoyed it more than any one. It seemed as if a new world had opened before him. His face lost the downcast look, his eyes were brighter, and he even ventured to make one or two jokes. The boys seemed to like him, and Jack was glad of it, for he had a genuine admiration for the new boy, and wanted to befriend him.

To some of his chums he told something of Will’s story, and there was general indignation expressed against the mean guardian.

“Well, fellows, I guess we’ve eaten everything except the table and the candles,” said Jack after a while. “I think we’d better be getting back to our rooms, for Martin may take it into his head to pay a late visit.”

The advice was timely, and as the lads had had a jolly evening, they prepared to disperse. They cleared away the remains of the feast, leaving Socker to put aside the boards, cans and bottles. As they filed out of the boiler-room, Socker called to Jack:

“I’m all ready to tell you that story now.”

“I’ve got to see these infants to bed,” replied our hero with a wink. “Then I’ll be back, Socker. Think over all the points in the story. I don’t want to lose any.”

“I’ll do that, Mr. Ranger,” and Socker sat down in a chair before the fire and began to think deeply.

The students reached their rooms without being detected, whispering to Jack, on their way, their thanks for the spread.

“I’ve had the best time in my life!” exclaimed Will as he clasped Jack’s hand at his door. “I can’t thank you enough.”

“Then don’t try,” replied Jack. “Brace up, and you’ll be all right.”

“I will.”

Whether it was the effect of the pie or doughnuts Jack never knew, but some time during the night he began to dream that he had swallowed a big piece of pastry the wrong way, and it was choking him. He sat up, gasping for breath, and found to his horror that his room was full of smoke.

“There’s a fire!” he spoke aloud. Then he called to Nat, who was in the bed across from him:

“Nat! Nat! Wake up! There’s a fire!”

“No, I can’t get up any higher,” sleepily responded Nat, turning over in bed, and evidently thinking that his chum had asked him to climb up a tree.

“It’s a fire!” cried Jack, springing from bed. “There’s a fire, Nat!”

This roused the sleeping lad, who also bounded out from under the covers. There was no doubt about it. Their room was filled with smoke, which was getting thicker every minute.

“Fire! Fire! Fire!” yelled Jack, for he heard no one stirring about in the school dormitory, and he rightly guessed that he was the first to sound the alarm.

His call was sufficient to arouse students on either side of him, and then Martin and several of the teachers came running from their apartments.

“Where is the fire, Ranger?” asked Mr. Gales, one of the mathematical instructors.

“I don’t know, but my room is full of smoke.”

Just then, from somewhere below stairs, sounded a cry:

“Fire! Fire! There’s a fire in the boiler-room! Help!”

“That’s Socker, the janitor,” declared Jack. “Come on, fellows, we’ll help him.”

He rushed for the stairs, attired in his pajamas and slippers, and was followed by Nat and a score of other students.

“Boys, boys! Be careful!” called Mr. Gales.

Meanwhile, the smoke was getting thicker, and every one was beginning to cough.

“Fire! Fire!” yelled Socker.

Jack, leading the rush of pupils through the smoke, soon reached the boiler-room in the basement. Through the clouds of vapor, illuminated by gasjets here and there left burning all night in case of accident, he could see the flicker of flames.

“Come on!” he called. “There are some pails with water along the wall, and a couple of hand extinguishers!”

They reached the engine-room, to find a blaze in one corner, where Socker kept some waste, cans of oil, old rags and brooms. The fire had been eating toward the storeroom, where the midnight feast had been held.

“Forward the fire brigade!” yelled Jack as he grabbed up an extinguisher and began to play it on the flames, while some of his chums caught up pails of water, kept filled for just such an emergency.

The flames were beginning to crackle now, and the fire seemed likely to be a bad one.

Suddenly Socker, who was running about doing nothing, looked at the boiler and cried out:

“Run! Everybody run! The safety valve has caught, and the boiler will blow up! Run! Run!”

The boys needed no second warning. Jack paused for a moment, for the stream from his extinguisher was beginning to quench the flames, but as he saw Socker fleeing from the room, and as he reflected that it would be dangerous to remain, he turned and fled, carrying the apparatus with him.

“Everybody out!” cried Socker. “Get ’em all out! The boiler will blow up!”

The lads, lightly clad, fled through the basement door out into the night. The snow, which had ceased that evening, had started in again, and the storm was howling as if in glee at the plight of the students of Washington Hall, who were driven from their beds by fire.

CHAPTER X
SAVING THE FLAGS

He started to re-enter the school.

“Don’t go back!” cried Socker. “It’s liable to go up any minute!”

Dr. Mead returned to the waiting group, his face betraying intense excitement.

“We must get the fire out!” he cried. “Can’t some one send word to the village?”

“There’s a telephone in Mr. Raspen’s house, about half a mile away,” volunteered Sam. “I’ll run there.”

He started off, and just as he did so a series of alarming cries broke out at one of the upper corridor windows of the school.

“Fire! Fire!” cried a voice. “Der school ist being gonsumed by der fierce elements! Safe me, somebodies! I must get out my German flag! I must out get quvick, alretty yet!”

The anxious face of Professor Garlach appeared at one of the windows.

“Don’t jump!” cried Jack, as the teacher seemed about to do so. “You’ve got time enough to come down the stairs.”

“B-r-r-r-r! It’s cold!” cried Nat Anderson, as some snow got inside the slippers he had put on, and some flakes sifted down his back.

“It will soon be warm enough,” observed Jack. “The fire is gaining. Poor Washington Hall! It deserved a better fate than being burned down.”

“Look!” cried Sam, who had paused in his run to go to the telephone. “There’s Socrat.”

The French professor had joined his German colleague at the window, and both were struggling to climb out of it.

“Stand aside, German brute zat you aire!” exclaimed the Frenchman. “I must save ze glorious flag of la belle France! Let me toss it out of ze window!”

“I vill nottings of der kind do alretty yet!” responded Professor Garlach. “I vos here firstest!”

“Zen you are no gentlemans!” was Professor Socrat’s reply. “Bah! Sacre! Let me out, I demand of you! I am insult zat you should flout zat rag in my eyes!”

The wind had blown the German flag, which Professor Garlach held, into the face of the Frenchman.

“Rag! Hein! You call dot glorious flag a rag! Himmel! I vill of der mincemeat you make now!”

Professor Garlach made a grab for his enemy. To do so he lost his hold on his precious flag. It fluttered out of the window and to the ground.

“Save it! Save it!” he cried, leaning out. “My flag!”

“I’ll get it,” shouted Jack.

With a quick movement the German snatched the French colors from the hand of Professor Socrat. An instant later that, too, was fluttering to the snow.

“Oh! la belle tri-color! It is insult! I moost have blood to satisfy my honaire!” shouted the Frenchman.

He made a lunge, and clasped Professor Garlach about the neck. The two struggled at the window. With a quick wit Jack grabbed the two flags, and, waving them, intertwined, above his head, he shouted:

“See, professors! A German-French alliance at last. Both flags are saved. They have not touched the ground. Now come on down and get them. Quick! The fire is gaining!”

“Ach! Dot is goot! Der flag is not sullied!” called Professor Garlach.

“And mine also—my beautiful tri-color, eet is safe!” added Professor Socrat. “Ranger, you are ze one grand gentleman. I salute you!” and the enthusiastic Frenchman blew Jack a kiss.

The two enemies, reconciled by the flag incident, embraced each other, and as Jack called to them to make haste down the stairway, they disappeared from the window.

Meanwhile, the smoke was pouring from the boiler-room, and the flames were brighter. Sam had raced off through the storm to the telephone to summon the fire department.

“Say, I don’t believe that boiler’s going to blow up,” announced Jack. “If it was going to, it would have done so long ago. I’m going to take a look.”

“No, no,” begged Socker. “You’ll all risk your life!”

“Don’t be rash, Ranger,” cautioned Dr. Mead.

“I think Socker exaggerated the danger,” replied our hero. “I’m going to take a look.”

He ran back to the engine-room and looked in. He could see the boiler plainly, as the place was brightly illuminated by the flames. His eyes sought the steam gage.

“Why!” he cried. “There are only twenty pounds of steam on! Socker took it for two hundred. There’s no danger. That’s a low pressure.”

Then he raised his voice in a shout:

“Come on, fellows! Help put out the fire! There’s no danger! The boiler’s all right!”

There was an immediate rush. Jack still held his extinguisher, and Nat Anderson had secured one. Several other students, hearing Jack’s reassuring news, rushed into the school, and came back with pieces of hand apparatus.

“Now to douse the fire!” yelled Jack, again turning on the chemical stream.

“Use snow!” cried Bob Movel. “That will help!”

He scooped up some in a water pail that he had emptied, and tossed the mass of white crystals on the edge of the flames, which were in one corner of the boiler-room. There was a hissing sound, a cloud of steam arose, and the fire at that particular point died out.

“That’s the stuff!” cried Jack, and other students and some of the teachers followed Bob’s example. The fire was fast being gotten under control, and Socker, returning to the boiler-room, had attached a small hose to a faucet, and was playing water on the flames.

Suddenly, above the noise made by the shouting lads, the hiss of snow and water, and the snapping of the flames, there sounded a cry of distress.

“Help! Help! Help!”

“Some one is caught by the flames! They must have eaten their way up to the upper floors!” cried Dr. Mead.

“It iss dot boy Snaith—he und two odders!” announced Professor Garlach, rushing into the boiler-room, his beloved German flag clasped in his arms, where Jack had placed it.

“Quick! Sacre! We must not let zem perish!” added Professor Socrat, as he caught up a big fire shovel and dashed from the basement. “I will rescue zem!”

“Und me also,” added Professor Garlach as he grabbed up a long poker.

“There can’t be much danger,” said Jack. “The fire is almost out. Here, Nat, you keep things moving here, and I’ll take a look.”

He ran out into the storm. Looking up at the side of the school, he saw, framed in a window, behind which a light burned, the figures of Dock Snaith, Pud Armstrong and Glen Forker.

“Save us! Save us!” cried Dock. “We can’t get out.”

“Catch me! I’m going to jump!” yelled Pud.

“No! no! Don’t!” Jack called. “There’s no danger. I’ll come and get you!” and he dashed into the main entrance of the school.

CHAPTER XI
THE GUN CLUB

“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

“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

“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.

CHAPTER XIV
THE BROKEN TRAIN

“I guess we’re all here—what there is of us,” remarked Bony, cracking his finger joints.

Just then the whistle of an approaching train was heard.

“Gotchertickets?” asked Budge Rankin, taking in a fresh wad of gum.

“Hu! Do you think I left them until now?” inquired Jack. “I’ve got all the tickets. That’s our train, fellows. Now we’ll say good-by to Denton for a while, and live in the wild and woolly West. Here, Budge, you take that satchel, and I’ll tote the dress-suit case. Try and get seats together, boys.”

A little later they were on the train and being whirled rapidly away from Denton. They had a long journey before them, and as the first part of it contained no features of interest the lads spent all their time discussing what was before them.

“I want to get a big buck mule deer,” remarked Jack as they were talking about what kind of game they would be likely to find.

“Me for a big-horn sheep,” said Nat. “I want to get the head mounted and put it in my room. Then I’ll put my rifle across the horns, and show it to every one who comes in.”

“I s’pose you’ll tell ’em you shot it, won’t you?” asked Bony.

“Of course. I will shoot it.”

“You won’t if you haven’t improved your aim any since we were camping this summer.”

“I can shoot better than you can,” retorted Nat.

“Like pie!” exclaimed Bony, discharging a whole volley of knuckle-bone shots.

“Why, you missed that big muskrat you aimed at, the day before Jack and I were kidnapped!” taunted Nat.

“Yes, but you joggled my arm.”

“I did not.”

“You did so.”

“Hold on,” interposed Jack in a quiet voice. “All the passengers are laughing at you two.”

“I don’t care,” replied Nat. “I guess I can shoot as good as he can.”

“Oh, I fancy there’ll be game enough out there, so if you miss one thing you can hit another,” consoled Sam. “What I want to see are the bad lands. Just think of thousands of small sandstone peaks, so much alike that they look like a stone forest, with sulphur springs here and there, and all sorts of queer-shaped rocks. It must be a great sight!”

“Yes, and it’s easy to get lost among those same peaks,” added Jack. “I read of a hunter who went out there, and he was so near camp that his friends could hear him shouting, but they couldn’t locate him until he began to fire his gun, and then they had hard work because of the echoes. We’ll have to keep together if we get in such a place as that.”

“But there are some woods, aren’t there?” asked Bony.

“Sure, woods, mountains, valleys, and all sorts of wild places,” said Jack. “I fancy there’ll be plenty of snow on the upper peaks, too, but it’s likely to be nice and warm down below.”

“What do you want to shoot, Budge?” asked Nat, for the gum-chewing youth had not said much.

“Hu! Guessarabbit’lldome.”

“A rabbit,” remarked Jack. “Maybe we’ll be glad of a good rabbit stew, or one roasted, in case these mighty hunters don’t bring down a buck or a bear.”

Thus they talked for many miles, until they had to change cars, where they took another road leading more directly West. They arrived at Chicago the morning after the day on which they had started, and spent some time in the Windy City. Then they started off again.

“Two days more and we’ll be in Wyoming,” remarked Jack the next afternoon, as they were speeding through Iowa. “Then for a good time. Eh, fellows?”

“That’s what!” answered Sam. “My, but I’m getting stiff. I’d like to get out and have a ball game.”

“So would I,” said Nat.

Their train stopped at a small station, and was held there for some time.

“Wonder what we’re waiting for?” ventured Jack. “What’s the matter?” he asked of a brakeman who passed through their car at that moment.

“Some block on the line ahead,” was the reply. “We’ll go in a few minutes.”

There was some fretting among the passengers at the delay, but finally the train started off again. It proceeded slowly. Then followed some sharp whistles, and finally there sounded a report like a gun.

“It’s a hold-up!” cried an excited man.

The boys and all about them leaped to their feet in alarm.

“That’s what it is,” went on the man. “It’s a Wild West hold-up! Better hide your watches and money.”

He began emptying his pockets of his valuables, and was thrusting them under his seat.

The train had come to a sudden stop.

“Do you s’pose it’s train robbers?” asked Bony in some alarm.

“I don’t know,” answered Jack. “I guess——”

“Where’sthegunsan’we’llshoot’em!” exclaimed Budge, jumping up.

Just then a brakeman ran through the car, carrying a red flag.

“What’s the matter? Is it a hold-up? Are they after our money?”

These questions were rapidly fired at him.

“A freight train has broken in two just ahead of us,” explained the railroad man. “The engine’s disabled,” he went on. “We’ve got to back up to a switch so as to pass it. I’ve got to go back with a danger flag.”

“Oh, dear!” exclaimed a woman. “But who got shot? I’m sure I heard a gun go off.”

“That was a torpedo on the track, ma’am,” explained the brakeman. “The freight crew put it there on a sharp curve, so we wouldn’t run into the tail-end of their train. It’s all right. There’s no danger.”

The brakeman hurried down the steps of the last car, in which the boys were riding, and began to run along the track. When he was about a hundred yards away the train began to back slowly up.

“I wonder how far back we have to go to reach the switch?” asked Jack.

“About two miles,” answered a man across the aisle from the lads. “It’s near Mine Brook Station, and it’ll take us quite a while to get there.”

“Why?” asked Bony. “Can’t the train go fast backward?”

“Yes, but the engineer dare not run past the man with the flag. He has to keep a certain distance in the rear of the last car, to warn any other trains that may be approaching behind us. So we really can’t back up any faster than the brakeman can run. I don’t like this delay, either, as I have an important engagement. But something always seems to be happening on this road. I wish I’d come another route.”

There were other grumbling remarks by the various passengers, but the boys were too interested in watching the brakeman to notice them. The train must have gotten too close to him, for it came to a stop, in obedience to a signal on the air whistle, and waited until the man with the red flag was out of sight around a curve. Then it began to back again.

This was kept up for some time, and finally the boys saw the brakeman come to a halt and wave his flag in a peculiar manner.

“He’s at the switch now,” remarked the man who had first spoken to the lads. “We’ll soon be on our way again.”

The train proceeded more slowly, and then the boys saw where a switch crossed from one track to another. The rear car was halted some distance from the cross-over, and a man came running up from the head end, carrying a key in his hand, with which to unlock the switch. He quickly turned it, and then began to wave his arm, as a signal for the engineer to back up. He continued to wave for several seconds, and then he exclaimed:

“He can’t see me. Hey!” he called to a group of men on the back platform of the last car, “give him the whistle signal, will you?”

“What?” asked a man.

“Give him the whistle. Blow it three times, so he’ll back up. Hurry! I can’t leave this switch.”

The men did not seem to know what to do. Some of them began looking inside the car for the old-fashioned bell cord, that used to run through the train to the engineer’s cab. This is now displaced by a small red cord at one side of the car, and it operated a whistle connected with the air-brake system.

“Pull the cord. Give him three whistles, can’t you?” cried the man at the switch. “We can’t lay here all day.”

“I don’t see any whistle,” murmured the man who had told the boys about the switch. “Let him come and pull it himself. This is a queer road, where they expect the passengers to help run it.”

“Can’t some of you pull that whistle cord?” demanded the man. “Hurry up.”

Jack heard and understood. He had often seen the brakemen or conductor at the Denton station start the trains by pulling on something under the hood of the car, as they stood on the platform.

“I guess I can do it,” he said as he worked his way through the crowd of passengers about the door.

He reached up, and his fingers encountered a thin cord. He pulled it slowly, as he had seen the railroad men do, for as the air pressure had to travel the entire length of the train it required some time, and a quick jerk would not have been effective.

Once, twice, three times Jack pulled the whistle cord, and he heard the hissing of escaping air that told of the signal sounding in the locomotive cab. An instant later came three blasts from the engine, and the train began to back up.

“Much obliged to you,” called the man at the switch to Jack, as the rear car passed him. “I’m glad somebody knew how to work it.”

“Is that where the whistle cord is?” asked a man. “I was looking for a bell cord.”

The train backed across the switch, and was soon on another track, and one not blocked by a disabled freight.

“Say,” remarked Nat to Jack, “you’re getting to be a regular railroad man.”

“Well, I’m in a hurry to get out to camp and take the trail,” replied Jack. “That’s why I’m helping ’em run this road.”