An exclamation from one of the sons of Charley Crow announced that their quarry had been sighted ahead; and shortly afterward, even Felix could discover the smoke of a fire through the vista of tree trunks beyond; proving that, just as Mr. Harbison had said, the two men had halted to cook some more of their easily acquired venison, and take things easy.
In single file the party advanced; and so earnestly were the pair of scoundrels at the fire employed getting their lunch ready, that they failed to note the presence of the others until the six lined up close by, and Mr. Harbison called upon them to throw up their hands and surrender.
Both of them looked very ugly; and given half a chance they might have made it very interesting for the posse; but with six rifles covering them, they saw it would be the height of foolishness to resist. Besides, they had reason to know and fear the man in charge of the force; so, with a forced laugh, they held up their hands, and announced that they would not try to run away, or resist.
Mr. Harbison took no chances with such men. He speedily snapped the irons upon their wrists, which act brought out a chorus of hard words; for they had not expected being treated so severely, not having recognized Felix as yet, as his hat was drawn down well over his face, and he was wearing an extra old coat belonging to Charley Crow. So that the men fancied at first they were being arrested on account of some misdemeanor connected with their work in the reservation known as Yellowstone Park.
When, upon the request of the head of the posse, Felix stepped up, and identified the pair of rascals as the men who had set upon, beaten, and robbed him of his rifle, as well as everything else of value he had with him, they began to show signs of positive uneasiness, realizing that they were in a pretty bad fix.
It was indeed a great pleasure for the lad to once again fondle his own gun; and his first act was to carefully wipe it all over, as though he thought it may have suffered more or less contamination through contact with such a dirty specimen of humanity as the one-eyed Abe Cozzins.
The officers announced their intention of starting immediately south with the prisoners, as it would take them several days to reach the town they expected to use as a place for locking the men up in. Felix made arrangements to give his deposition when he came out with his chum, about Christmas; although Mr. Harbison admitted that he hardly needed anything more in order to send them to the penitentiary for a term of years.
Somehow Felix, now that he had recovered his possessions, did not feel so vindictive as he had expected he would; and had the fellows shown a proper spirit of humility the boy would have only too gladly allowed the matter to drop, so far as he was concerned.
But they chose to take just the opposite course, cursing him roundly, and making savage threats of all kinds as to what they would do if they got free; which was just the way to arouse all his resentment, and cause him to give his promise to appear against them later on.
Felix was very glad when they finally went away, leaving him with the two sons of old Charley Crow. Learning that they were not more than five miles away from the little shack where Old Sol had often held forth during the trapping season, the boy was seized with an overwhelming desire to get back home, and rest up; and when the others heard this, one of them, the strapping big fellow called Jo by his father, said he would see him safely there.
It was really quite a tug for Felix, and only his grim determination carried him through, for his lower limbs began to feel as though each of them weighed a ton; so that he found considerable difficulty in dragging them along; but as familiar scenes began to crop up, the nearer he came to the cabin, as a consequence he finally found himself in sight of home.
Never did a ship-wrecked mariner greet port with more enthusiasm than Felix did the little old dugout under the big tree.
Of course Tom was away, undoubtedly wildly scouring the woods in search of his missing chum; but then he would come back after a certain time to see whether the lost one had returned; so all that Felix had to do was to make himself comfortable and wait.
Jo said he would like to stay with him, and meet Tom. Any one who had known Old Sol was worth cultivating, in the eyes of the Indian boy, who had looked upon the veteran trapper as a veritable wonder.
They had a fine fire that warmed the interior of the cabin, and Felix was drowsing before this, while Jo examined the wonderful repeating rifle; when the door was flung violently open, and there stood Tom, his eyes staring as though he could hardly believe what they showed him.
Returning almost in despair because he could get no trace of his missing chum, he had discovered from the smoke that some one was occupying the dugout; after that it took him just five seconds to reach the door, and open the same.
In another instant Tom had thrown his arms around his cousin, and was hugging him just as though he might be a long-lost brother, instead of just his every-day chum; meanwhile muttering all sorts of things, and laughing hysterically, in the effort to master his pent-up emotion.
Felix was almost as deeply affected, and it was then and there that he learned just how dear Tom had become to him during the comparatively short time they had been comrades.
From beginning to end Tom made him tell the whole story, not omitting a single detail; and for an hour Felix held his audience spell-bound by a recital of the many queer things that had come his way, since that hour when he said goodbye with such a light heart, and started off after venison.
It was all like a story from a book to Tom. And of course it pleased him to hear how the conventional end had been reached, with the two rascals captured, the stolen goods restored to their real owner, and the criminals bundled off to jail in irons. Why, Tom could not hear enough of the details, but kept asking questions, and even turning to the Indian boy to find out what his chum could not tell.
"We'll get that buck's head the first thing tomorrow—that is, if you feel decent enough for the tramp," he declared, after he had had Felix minutely describe the place of the strange encounter, and where he had passed his first night.
Of course the other declared that he would be all right, and eager for business at the old stand; but the actual truth was, that for several days he felt the effects of his series of adventures; and the mark upon his cheek was still faintly visible two months later.
All the same, with Jo accompanying them they did go to the tree and secure the prized head, as well as what venison was left—some animal had been feasting on the latter; but there was still enough left to carry a lot away with them, and every mouthful of that meat which Felix masticated gave him more or less satisfaction, since he felt that he had well earned all that was coming to him in this respect.
Of course the traps had been neglected during all this confusion; and so Tom said he would take a run along the entire line that afternoon, in order that if any prizes had been captured, the skins might not be spoiled by too long an emersion in the water.
Jo started back home after they had had lunch. Both boys noticed with some amusement that the boy's last fond look was in the direction of the wonderful coffeepot, from whence had come that rich, smooth, fragrant nectar that had so tickled his palate; doubtless they would see more of Jo while they lingered among the foothills of the Rockies; but they would always have their latchstring out for any one who was connected with old Charley Crow.
As we already know, Tom had not felt any undue anxiety concerning his chum until the hour grew late on that first night. Then he had thought to step out, and fire his gun several times; but as Felix had not heard the reports, it seemed that he must have been further away than anyone suspected; or that the wind was wrong.
In the morning Tom had started out in the direction he supposed Felix might be; hoping to come across signs of his friend. But the woods were wide, and apparently he could not at any time have come near the place where the other had had his adventures.
Returning at nightfall, Tom had hoped he would find the other at the dugout, and a keen disappointment awaited him. That night was a restless one for him. The second day had been a repetition of the first; and late in the afternoon, dispirited and weary, Tom had drawn near the vicinity of the shack, when he was electrified to see smoke oozing from the chimney.
One thing the incident had surely accomplished, and this was to acquaint the boys with the fact, if they had not realized it before, that they were unusually fond of each other. In many ways they were unlike; but it seemed that what one lacked the other could supply; and in this respect they made an ideal team for campmates. The right kind of a cheerful, willing and genial comrade, who will wear well in camp, is hard indeed to find. It appears that, no matter what a fellow may seem like at home, when he lands in the wilderness, the veneer is bound to drop off, and the true elements that go to make up his real nature are quickly apparent.
After securing the buck's head Felix was content to remain in camp for a short time; ostensibly with the idea of "curing" it, so that it might ornament his room at home; but to tell the plain, unvarnished truth, the boy was still very sore, and until this in a measure wore off, the prospects of a long jaunt through the woods and into the mountains failed to appeal to him very much.
This feeling began to gradually grow less positive as a couple of days passed, and finally there was no longer any excuse to hug the fire-side, because the buck's head had been prepared after a fashion that Tom said he had never seen beaten.
So Felix fell back into the rut, just as though there had been no break, sometimes accompanying his chum in the round of the traps, or doing that duty alone; and again going out to look for fresh game, with generally the best of success.
Doubtless, as the boy tramped through the snowy woods he sometimes found himself starting when he fancied he heard the coarse voices of the two unfaithful guides; or it might be a smile, as of amusement, would creep over his face when it happened that some particular tree awakened memories of the one into which he had been so neatly tossed by the wounded buck.
These experiences all go to make up life; and one learns more quickly from having passed through such actual performances than by mere reading; or even listening to what others may have accomplished, pleasant though this may seem. Felix believed he was a much better woodsman for having met and boldly faced the difficulties that had been spread like a net for his unwary feet on that occasion.
His eye seemed more positive; his nerves firmer; and when he handled his rifle, it was with an assurance born of experience, so that his aim was apt to be more accurate than before; while a confidence had been aroused in his soul that he would not have exchanged for anything he knew of.
So the youngster, upon being tossed into the water by an apparently cruel elder brother, and told to swim, upon striking out in desperation finds that by moving arms and legs he is able to keep afloat, and even make a little clumsy progress; and into his soul springs a pride that is never surpassed in later life, even when he wins battles in the business arena.
Perhaps the birdling experiences something of the same sensation upon being actually pushed from the nest by the wise mother, and discovering that by using its wings it can fly a short distance; it is an exhilaration never surpassed.
The buck's antlered head certainly did look mighty fine when fastened up on the wall of the shack; and Tom vowed that if Old Sol could only be there in spirit, he must feel pretty proud to see the walls of his well beloved dugout decorated in such a manner.
Of course, with his Marlin, Felix had also recovered all his other little traps from the ugly pair, while they were in the hands of the game wardens from the Park; so that he again had his little watch, his compass and his knife, together with what money they had taken from him, and which had tempted the cupidity of the thieving guides.
Realizing what he lacked in using a compass, he now set about studying things, under the guidance of his chum, in connection with the woods, that would prove useful to him in all time to come.
It was for some time a source of wonder to Tom Tucker why Old Charley Crow and his family, although within so short a distance of the dugout, had never set a line of traps in that neighborhood. One day, when young Jo was visiting them, drawn by memories of that seductive coffeepot, they plied him with questions, and thus learned that old Sol had the last year he was up here, through the use of certain medicines, of which he knew the value, been able to save the life of Mrs. Crow; and in gratitude none of the family would ever encroach on his preserves.
They knew that the old trapper had been absent for several years, and that game was very abundant over in that direction; but a sort of "dead line" had been established, across which none would wander with the intention of doing business. Lacking information to the contrary, they expected that Sol might show up at any time; and all of them were very jealous of having him suspect that they had "poached" on his territory.
When they heard this the boys felt drawn more than ever toward the honorable Crow family; and Felix privately declared that when he got back home, the first thing he meant to do was to dispatch a case of rifles just like his, though of a less expensive pattern, to make those good fellows supremely happy.
And so out of evil good many times springs; and as long as they stayed there at the foot of the great Rockies, Felix and his chum were likely to enjoy friendly intercourse with the dusky family in the cabin not many miles away.
But it seemed that Felix was not destined to absorb all the adventures that happened to be adrift up there in that neck of the woods adjoining the mountain chain.
And the next one had to fall to the lot of Tom. It was such an admixture of peril and humor, that whenever either of the chums happened to glance up at the wall of the cabin, where the wretched looking pelt of a black bear was stretched, almost invariably a grin would have to follow.
This is the way it came about:
Just a few days after Felix had been in that queer mix-up with the wounded buck, and the two guides, Tom was on his way back from a little line of traps, when the notion came to him to step aside from his beaten path, and explore a dense patch of timber into which neither of them had happened thus far to stroll.
There was no telling what he might not discover, for it certainly looked dark and forbidding enough to shelter almost anything. As his catch of furs that day chanced to be limited to a couple of muskrats, and a single mink, Tom was just in the humor for striking at something out of the common.
He hung the pelts from the limb of a tree, and in plain sight, so that he might not have any particular difficulty about recovering the same; and with his rifle in readiness, plunged into the tangled growth, which was thicker than anything Tom had noticed around them.
Progress was rather slow, for he had to pass around many obstacles, so dense was the vegetation in this low lying spot adjoining the marshy tract where he found the muskrat colony. There was a sense of pleasure, however, in peering around, not knowing at what minute a fleet doe might jump up before him.
To his surprise, and also a little to his chagrin, the tempting place did not appear to harbor any sort of game whatever. But then Tom was enough of a sportsman to know that such often proves the case; the likely spots turn out good for nothing; while, when least expected, luck often springs upon the unwary.
Only one thing caught his attention in making his way along, that seemed worth a second thought. Stooping down in the heart of the dense growth, Tom picked something up, which he proceeded to examine with increasing interest.
It seemed to be a piece of comb from the honey store of a wild colony of bees, such as are found in nearly every section of the country south of a certain belt, beyond which the winters are too severe for the busy little insects.
Now, Tom had at some time in the past been in the company of a man who had once made a living, far away in New England, gathering wild honey, spruce gum, and many other products of the Maine pine woods. The subject had interested the boy exceedingly, and he had asked many questions relating to it, that brought him quite a store of information.
Just the sight and smell of this old piece of comb aroused within him an eager desire to discover just where it came from. If only he could bring home a pail of delicious honey, what would Felix say? Why, his mouth began to water at the very thought of such a delightful accession to their larder. Think of dripping sweetness flowing over the fine flapjacks Felix liked to make, and in which he really excelled!
That was too much for Tom. He just couldn't stand it any longer, but resolved that since game refused to spring up before his rifle, he would forget all about hunting; save that somewhere in this thicket growth there evidently lay a bee tree, fairly groaning with richness; and which he was resolved to find, if it lay in his power to do so.
He looked up, but could see no sign near him indicating that bees had a hive in any tree; in fact there was none of a suitable size right there.
Tom shrewdly guessed the truth. He knew that black bears have a sweet tooth; and will go miles to rob a bee tree. The stings of thousands of the little insects do not appear to bother Bruin a particle; perhaps he is immune to the poison they inject; or else most of them fail to reach his skin, on account of the thick hair.
Apparently, then, some thief of a bear was periodically robbing this secret storehouse of its sweets, and had dragged this comb away with him on a recent visit.
The comb, while somewhat discolored, had not been drained of its nectar more than a few days, Tom thought. That would seem to indicate that the hive could not be very far away. If he could only find it, with an axe he might soon fell the tree in which it was secreted, and then take toll of the preserves.
Every tree around came under his observation, and was only allowed to pass after he had surveyed its entire trunk, and become convinced that it had no hollow part in which a colony of busy workers might find a home for the winter's sleep.
And now that he was upon the subject of bear, he remembered that only a couple of days back he had himself seen signs of such an animal in the woods, and wondered how it came that a black, usually hibernating at this time of year, chanced to be moving around.
This explained it. Bruin had made a late discovery, and his appetite for sweet things would not allow him to shut himself up until "the last horn blew."
And perhaps, if he could find the bee tree, he might also get track of the bear, since it would be difficult to divorce the animal from so dainty a morsel, once he had found how to get at the hive.
So Tom kept up his search, all the time hoping to make a pleasing discovery that would make his chum's eye dance, and add a pleasing variety to their meals.
He had spent half an hour in this vain hunt when he came upon a tree that seemed to offer possibilities; for it had a big cavity, and there was more or less of a chance that some of its larger limbs were also hollow. It is this kind that appears to be the favorite lodgment of the bees after swarming from some other hive that is overcrowded; a place where they can grow indefinitely, and lay up an increasing store with each successive summer.
A ton of honey has sometimes been gathered from a single bee tree; much of it too old and discolored to be of much good but showing that the little workers never know when they have enough for their winter use.
Tom became so impressed with the possibilities of this particular tree that he determined to climb up its trunk and investigate at close range.
Of course, in order to ascend, he was compelled to lay his rifle on the ground, as he would surely need both hands to draw himself upward. Perhaps at the time Tom may have remembered the strange experience of his chum, Felix, while held unarmed in a tree, by the wounded buck; but if so, Tom did not dream of allowing such an idea to deter him in the least. Who could imagine any trouble springing from such an apparently innocent amusement as climbing a tree to see if any of its limbs being hollow might shelter a swarm of bees, with their golden brown store of honey? And besides, a rifle is not often used to shoot such small game, Tom remembered with a chuckle.
Once among the branches, he had little difficulty in climbing aloft; and was soon going about his business of examining the various limbs that seemed to promise a hope of containing the treasure house he sought.
He must have passed the hole in the trunk while climbing up the other side, for otherwise such keen eyes as Tom Tucker possessed would surely have noticed certain scratches calculated to arouse his suspicions.
One by one the limbs were looked over, and dismissed from the list of possibilities, until there remained only a small opening in the main trunk, about twenty feet above his head.
Without much hope of finding what he sought there, Tom climbed laboriously upward to this point, just about to give over the quest; he could not discover any signs that would indicate the presence of a swarm; and yet, as he placed his ear to this last opening, it seemed to him that he could catch a faint buzzing sound from within that excited new hopes.
He examined the trunk up and down, but there was certainly no chance of finding the anticipated hive further aloft; and if in the tree at all, it apparently must be down further.
The cavity beside him seemed to extend some distance downward; indeed, Tom was now of the opinion that it must connect with the larger opening he remembered having seen when on the ground, and which had slipped his attention when climbing. On his way back he must certainly take a look in there; meanwhile he would like to know positively that the bees were not snugly ensconced in the upper trunk near this minor gash; and as an idea flashed into his mind, without a second thought he set about carrying it into practice.
Taking a piece of oiled rag from the pocket of his khaki canvas hunting coat, which he was wearing at the time over his sweater and vest, he ignited it with a match, and immediately dropped this into the opening; holding back to see whether even a solitary bee made its appearance, since that would tell the story.
And Tom immediately became aware of the fact that there was certainly something going on inside that tree trunk. At first the boy found himself thinking that he stirred up the biggest bees' nest ever heard of; for from what at first seemed to be a simple buzzing, there grew a rumbling that kept on increasing, until it was simply astounding; and Tom hardly knew what to make of it all, as he hung there to the side of the tree trunk, looking downward.
The next thing he saw was smoke puffing out of where he knew the big opening lay.
"Hello!" he exclaimed, with mingled astonishment and amusement; "I did more than I expected, I reckon, and set the old buster afire inside. Say, she must have been as dry as tinder, to catch like that. Perhaps it's the fire making all that racket—no it ain't, either, for I never heard a burning tree make a noise like that. Sounds like growls, too—by George, it is growls, and I just bet you I've struck the snuggery of Mr. Bear first pop!"
The idea was so surprising that Tom just clung there, and stared with wide-open eyes at the opening below, from whence welled those strange sounds; together with various little wisps of smoke that seemed to be getting stronger as they ascended.
By and by the boy sniffed at this smoke, and as he did so he gave vent to another exclamation as if to voice his wonder, while something like a broad grin decorated his face.
"Burning hair, as sure as you live!" he exclaimed. "Bless me, if I don't think the old critter must be on fire; that oiled rag lit on his back, and took hold!"
Even as Tom gave vent to this startling opinion something appeared at the opening below; something that speedily resolved itself into a smouldering black bear, that looked both scared and angry as he backed out of his den, snapping at various parts of his fat body, where the fire had touched most severely.
If Tom had been able to restrain his loud and scornful laughter, in all probability Bruin would have scrambled down from the tree, and ambled off; or else rolled in the snow to cool his scorched body; but the sight seemed so very comical that the boy burst into a shout.
He was immediately sorry for doing so.
The singed bear twisted his head when in the act of lowering himself stern first, and caught sight of his human enemy above.
Somehow the sight of the boy seemed to completely alter the animal's plans; and instead of showing fear, he now gave evidence of extreme anger, just as though he might be able to figure out some connection between the presence of that biped in his tree, and the suffering he was even then undergoing.
He showed his teeth in a vicious growl.
"Go on down, old man!" called out Tom, waving his hand; "the walking's fine. Besides, there's nothing for you up here. I'm not hankering for company, I tell you. So just skip out, please—do you hear, you beggar?" and Tom ended with a shout; for, to his consternation, the singed bear had commenced to ascend the tree again, evidently with the intention of trying conclusions with this enemy who had hurt him so grievously.
Tom did not exactly like the looks of things just about then.
There, he was, above the ground some forty feet, with an enraged bear climbing in his direction, and evidently bent on mischief. It was too great a distance to be covered in a jump, since the ground was frozen and hard, so that a broken ankle might be the result. To ascend further would mean that he must soon be chased to the very pinnacle of the tree, with Bruin close after, bent on clutching him with his sharp claws, and teaching him a lesson in politeness.
Whatever he expected to do must be started quickly, for the animal was getting closer all the time. If he only had a good long pole; or even a stout club, Tom believed he might poke the brute so furiously that he would conclude to give over his attempt to close with the boy who had laughed so heartlessly over his misfortunes, though Tom was doing so no longer, it might be noticed.
But he might just as well wish for his rifle, lying there so temptingly on the ground; it would be impossible to twist off a branch large enough, and reduce it to the proper consistency in time to meet the bear's attack.
Tom, as the bear came close, began to move out on a limb, wondering whether the animal would really follow after him. That doubt was speedily removed, for Bruin never so much as hesitated, though he came with extreme caution, feeling his way, step by step, suspicious lest he were being led into a trap.
It seemed to Tom, however, that if any one appeared to be in a trap, that individual must be himself. With each foot that he crept out on that bending limb, he felt that his chances for escaping those cruel claws in an encounter with their angry owner grew less and less.
Suppose the limb should break under their combined weight, it would be a serious thing to go tumbling down fully forty feet, in company with the fat, hairy monster; possibly to be clasped in his embrace after landing. Of course, if he could only be sure of alighting on Bruin when the collision came, it would not seem so bad; but that was only one chance in ten; and on the other hand the miserable beast might drop squarely upon him, which would be completing the tragedy.
One thing Tom noticed was, that the further out on the limb he crawled the more it sagged, so that he was even now close to the outcropping branches below; and the daring thought flashed through his brain that possibly he might suddenly let go his hold above, and by a show of dexterity, succeed in securing a new grip as he fell!
That would be leaving Bruin in the lurch nicely; for not daring to trust his cumbersome body to do likewise he would have to hedge back to the trunk, an operation taking time; and then descend in the ordinary way.
Meanwhile Tom could be slipping down the balance of the tree with the speed, that, in his boyish vernacular, he called "greased lightning," and when the bear arrived later on, he would find himself up against a snag in that always dependable rifle.
There was really no other course left open to him, and hence Tom felt bound to take the chances, such as they were.
He was naturally agile, and his muscles accustomed to hardy exercise; so that after all, it was not such a tremendously difficult task, slipping dextrously down the outside of that limb, and clutching hold of the next one as he reached it.
Tom half expected to see the bear go plunging downward, as the limb, relieved of the boy weight, must have been violently agitated; but apparently the animal knew just how to crouch there, and hold on.
A single look upward showed Tom this, and also that the bear was already commencing to edge cautiously backward, moving one foot gingerly at a time, just as Tom had seen a domestic cat do when after a sparrow in a tree.
Undoubtedly that must have been the strangest way in which Tom Tucker ever came down a tree; just as the ascension of Felix had shattered all records. While his movements were certainly pretty rapid, he managed to carry himself so dextrously that, save for a number of small scratches, mostly along his wrists that did not count for anything, he presently reached the ground, none the worse for his remarkable experience.
By this time Bruin had succeeded in backing along the limb, and reaching the body of the tree, down which he commenced to pass, with an eye to business. Hence, Tom knew that he had no time to waste, if he meant to hold the advantage that his slide had given him.
Three bounds took him over to where his rifle lay, and snatching this weapon up, he was quickly back again at the base of the tree. After that it was just a picnic—that is, for Tom; what the bear thought no one ever bothered trying to find out.
The boy even felt a little compassion for the poor beast that was so rudely disturbed in the very beginning of his long winter nap, by having his house take fire; and upon crawling hastily forth, had the double aggravation of finding himself laughed at by a cruel two-legged foe; and when he sought to punish such liberties it would be to have a queer stick poked at his head, and hear a terrible bang that ended his earthly career.
But to tell the truth it was bear steaks that animated Tom now; for he realized that as a piece of marketable fur that sadly singed hide of Bruin would not pay for the trouble of taking it off.
He believed that the bear was both fat and rather young, and these considerations outweighed any compunction he might feel, as the animal kept coming closer to him.
Several times the bear stopped to look down at the human enemy waiting so confidently for him below; and it would seem as though some intuition must have warned Bruin that he could expect nothing less than trouble from that source; but to descend seemed to be the only thing left him, since his late den was now burning in a way that promised the complete destruction of the tree in due time.
And so the beast again started downward, growling ferociously; but now more in the expectation that such fierceness might frighten the hunter away from his post, than because of a genuine desire to come into contact with him.
However, Tom did not mean to take any unnecessary chances; he had never fought a "singed" bear, and hence could not say just how vindictive such an animal might turn out to be. So when Bruin was just about down Tom thrust out his gun until the muzzle almost touched the beast's small head, close to his ear; when he pulled trigger, and there was one less live bear in that neck of the woods.
Later on, Tom, following the trail of the marauding bear, did manage to discover the bee tree, and upon felling it, secured a bucket full of good honey; though he afterwards declared that he had never before heard of such a thing being done in the winter season.
Bruin had gotten at all he could easily reach, and had then taken up his quarters in the near vicinity; possibly in the hope and expectation that when spring came around, and the dormant bees awoke to new activity, he would be on hand to start a fresh campaign, in the hope of another rich feast.
He had not calculated upon the coming of Tom Tucker; and the discovery of that empty comb which he must have tossed contemptuously aside after draining its sweet store; so that its finding started the hunter on the track that ended in Bruin's downfall.
It was with considerable pleasure that Tom set about the task of denuding the honey thief of his singed pelt. He meant to simply keep this as a reminder of the strange adventure that had waylaid him on his return from the little marsh where the Northern muskrats abounded. But the meat was the main thing after all; and none of it must go to feed some prowling bobcat or panther.
With the assistance of his chum Tom managed to get every pound worth saving to the cabin, and that which could not be immediately used was frozen in a secure spot, from which it could not be stolen. Whenever their stock became low, all that was necessary, was to go out with the axe, and chop a few pounds off, as though it were fuel for the fire.
That account also went down in the log of Felix; for it gave him even more amusement than his own story of the buck that had tossed him into the tree; he often wished he had a picture of Tom in that tree, with the bear reaching out for him; and the boy finally sliding down the outside branches with desperate haste.
When Tom brought in that pail of wild honey, and declared they could really get all they wanted during their stay in the mountains, Felix fairly danced with glee. It just seemed to fill a long-felt want; and how delicious it did taste upon the next lot of flapjacks, which, of course, had to follow at the succeeding meal.
They ate so heartily, Tom declared that if this kept on, the larder would be cleaned out before half the time they had set for their stay in the camp were exhausted. But to all this kind of talk Felix turned a deaf ear; for when such a magnificent appetite had come to him, building up his energies splendidly, it just had to be catered to, regardless, even though the two big Crow boys were hired to make the long trip to civilization on snow-shoes, perhaps, and "tote" back a fresh supply of stuff on a sledge.
One can accomplish almost anything when the pocketbook is well lined, especially with where substantials in the woods are concerned; and those hardy Indian lads would think little of such a trip through the snow of the valleys; indeed, it must seem something along the order of a picnic for them, since doubtless they had more than once done the same thing, without the inducement of a fat reward, such as Felix would be sure to promise them.
It seemed as though adventures were flocking their way thick and fast; and the boys could not help wondering what the nature of the next one would be like, as they sat in their cozy dugout at night time, and took their ease before a roaring fire that made things look so cheery.
All this while Felix had not forgotten the two principal things he had in mind when laying out this trip to the Rocky Mountain region.
A grizzly was the height of his ambition, and unless he could manage to get such a prize to his credit, all alone and unaided, he would feel very much disappointed indeed. And then there was that bighorn business—he had heard so much about these strange sheep of the rocky heights that he often expressed a wish to try and secure such a splendid trophy. Could he see a pair of those curved horns decorating his den at home, the boy felt that it would please him more than words could tell.
And Tom, understanding what all this eagerness meant to his comrade, was making preparations looking to a start along those lines; he had his eye out for signs of the monster that had passed near the cabin on the first night of their occupancy, and whose den he believed must be among the rocky canyons of the mountains, not half a mile away from the edge of the valley where the dugout lay.
"I've fixed things so that today the traps can take care of themselves," remarked Tom, one morning, as they sat there at the rude table eating their breakfast of oatmeal, and coffee, and some biscuits Felix had managed to make, using a pan for his oven, and with pretty fair success, too, Tom had declared, after making away with his tenth one, covered with honey.
Felix looked quickly up at his chum. He could read between the lines, and understood that Tom would not have said this unless he had something to propose.
"And what were you thinking of doing, then?" he asked, seeing that the other was waiting to be questioned.
"Well, I happened to notice yesterday that a little flock of bighorn sheep seemed to be feeding in a certain patch away up the face of the mountain, where there must be some grass that has been protected so far from the freeze; and I was wondering whether you would feel like taking a shy at the same, always providing we can climb up to a place within gunshot?"
Felix jumped up, as he was really through eating; his eyes danced with eagerness, just as Tom anticipated they would.
"Let's start right now," he remarked; whereat the other laughed at him.
"Not a bit of need for hurry," he said; "and I want to make certain preparations for the jaunt. It isn't any easy thing, climbing the mountains, and especially at this time of year. We may be away all night, for all we know, and must dress warm enough for anything like that. Besides, we want to make up something to eat; these left-over biscuits and some dried venison will just fill the bill. And then there's that rope we brought along, because you said we might need it; I'll wrap it around my middle, because in mountain climbing a rope is sometimes worth its weight ten times over in gold. Fact is, no mountain guide over in the Alps would think of starting out for a climb, without at least one rope along."
"I guess you're right," replied Felix; "and I'll begin to get things moving now. Looks like we might have a decent day, too; which I'm right glad to see. I'd hate to be caught up there in a snow storm, with a howling wind blowing." And stepping to the door he looked up to where the frowning rocky heights could be seen through the partly bare branches of the trees of the valley.
Tom would not allow his impatient companion to hurry him in the least. He declared that there was plenty of time; and he did not want to forget something which they ought to carry, the absence of which might work a hardship later on.
But about the time the sun was an hour high showing through the gap to the east, the two lads left the old dugout, and headed toward the west, where the main ridge arose like a monstrous barrier, shutting them out from everything lying beyond, since to cross its snowy peaks was a task utterly beyond their ability, even had they ever dreamed of such an undertaking.
Later on, when they were really in one of the canyons, Felix began to comprehend something of the magnitude and grandeur of the massive Rockies. At a distance they had excited his curiosity and interest; but once he found himself in their midst, it was a feeling of awe that gradually took possession of his soul.
Still, the ambition of a hunter was strong within the Eastern lad; and when his companion pointed out to him a certain green spot nearly half way to the top of the nearest ridge and told him to notice the moving white specks upon it, he realized that these must be the famous big-horns feeding.
"However do you expect we're going to get up there?" asked Felix, aghast at the prospect of climbing at such a height, which looked something formidable to him just then.
"Perhaps we can't do it," replied the other; "but we're going to make a jab at the job all the same; and I reckon I know about the best way. I haven't been studying the make-up of these mountains, day after day, for nothing."
"I'd just depend on it, you've got your plan all laid out," laughed Felix. "I never knew you to start into anything without doing that."
"Oh! yes you have," answered the other, chuckling. "When I invaded the den of my friend, the black bear, and started to smoke him out without even knowing that it was his house, why, I guess I didn't have any plan made up beforehand. Any old thing just had to answer; but after all, I came out of that scrape better than I deserved, after being so breezy as to invite the gentleman to come out and get acquainted."
They started in to climb. Tom, as he said, had figured it pretty well all out, and in this way better progress was made than Felix would have thought possible.
Sometimes it turned out to be easy enough; and then again, they would either have to go around some obstruction, or else make a difficult ascent of a small cliff.
When noon came they had ascended a pretty good distance, and Felix saw that the green patch was much closer. Indeed, he could easily make out the bighorns now, and even counted them several times.
"Seven all told, in sight, Tom?" he remarked. "And I wonder if they'll still be there when we get within range, if we ever manage it?"
"If not, we must lie over until tomorrow, and take chances that way," replied the other. "For after going to all this trouble, we must try and get a sheep, just for the horns; because the mutton of a big fellow will dent your teeth."
"Have you got our route all mapped out above here?" asked Felix.
"Yes; and from now on we must be careful not to let them glimpse us even once," returned the Western boy. "I haven't hunted sheep before, but I know something of them, and they're mighty suspicious animals."
"I notice that we've got the wind in our faces," continued the other.
"Oh! sure, we couldn't have done the first thing any other way," Tom declared, as they once more started off.
An hour later, and Felix was allowed to creep to the edge of a little ridge of rock in order to take an observation. He found they had made such splendid progress that it almost seemed as though he might try to bring down that fellow sporting the massive horns, but then Tom had warned him that distances were deceiving up in that clear mountain air, and if so, after all he would be apt to make a mess of it should he try.
So once more, then, they had to go creeping along, always keeping out of sight of the wary game, yet forever ascending. And still, when Felix looked up at the top of the mountain they were climbing, it seemed about as far off heavenward as ever, in his eyes.
Later on Tom began to work around more. He believed that they were now about as close to the bighorn sheep as they could possibly get; and besides, as the afternoon was waning, the animals might at any time take a notion to quit their feeding ground, for some other locality, where they were in the habit of passing the night; and unless the boys got busy shortly, they would have to wait until another day before securing the coveted chance for a shot.
Leaving Felix lying in a little hollow, getting his breath after the last fierce climb, Tom crept forward. The other saw him gradually raise his head, and appear to take a peep over the rocks. Then drawing back, he turned and made a motion that meant he wanted his chum to come alongside.
Trembling with eagerness, Felix did so. And no sooner had he raised his eyes to a level with the line of rock, so that he could look over, than he saw a sight calculated to pay him for all the trouble he had been to, in order to gain this position.
There were the sheep within the easiest possible gun range, so that it would seem as though even a greenhorn could not miss his aim, if he but took ordinary precautions.
"Oh!"
It was but the faintest sound, and seemed forced from Felix by the closeness of the game; but Tom nudged him in the ribs, as though to indicate that even such a whisper must not be indulged in.
There was really no need of saying a word, because, as they climbed, the boys had made all the necessary arrangements.
Felix, therefore, knew absolutely that he was to try and take care of the buck carrying those massive horns which he envied; while Tom, on his part, having his mind bent more on securing some mutton that could be eaten without first being chopped into atoms, meant to pick out a yearling, or one still younger, provided the flock contained any such.
Nor was that all, for they had arranged a silent code between them, looking to the critical moment when they would want to shoot. Tom was to give the signal for this, after he had learned that his comrade was all ready for business.
And on his part Felix must keep a bead on that big buck.
Perhaps the leader of the flock had some reason to feel suspicious. He had ceased browsing on the grass that grew in the little plateau sheltered thus far from the cold, and getting all the warmth of the sunshine; they could see him standing there as though he might be cut out of solid rock, apparently sniffing the air as if in some incredible manner he had caught a whiff of danger, even though the wind blew almost directly from him toward the spot where the boys lay.
Tom kicked the ankle of his chum twice. That meant he was ready to give the word to fire and Felix must be ready to press the trigger of his Marlin when he heard the one word that was to be whispered, so the Eastern boy nudged an answer with his elbow.
"Now!"
There was a double discharge, Tom firing just after his companion; for in his generosity he did not want to precede him, even by the fraction of a second, lest this serve to make the patriarch of the flock move, and disturb Felix in aiming.
The big buck with the wonderful horns made a leap into the air, and then rolled down the slope, falling from the end of the shelf. They could see his desperate efforts to cling to the rock at the brink with his forefeet; but powerful as he may have been, that deadly ball had sapped his strength with its shock; and ten seconds later he vanished from the sight of the hunters.
Of course the balance of the flock had bounded off in wild alarm, not waiting to see what the fate of their leader might be; all but one, which lay there on the green spot, perfectly still. Tom evidently had not suffered in his aim because of allowing his chum the first chance to pull trigger. As usual he had made a centre shot; and if only they could find a way to get across to where the young bighorn lay, there was a prospect of some pretty fine eating ahead.
"I got him, didn't I, Tom?" cried Felix, greatly pleased over the result of his shot.
"But where d'ye suppose the beggar dropped to, and will we ever be able to get to him? I'd just hate awfully to lose those horns, now that I've knocked him galley-west. What had we better do, Tom?"
"I'll tell you," replied the other, calmly; for it took considerable to excite Tom—an angry bear climbing up a tree after him had been known to do the trick all right, though. "First of all, before we try and go down after those horns you want, let's see if we can get over to where the sheep were grazing. For my part, I've got my mouth set for some mutton, when we get home again; and I'd hate to lose what I've shot. It would be a wicked waste, that's what."
They began to look around, there being no longer any necessity for concealment; and in a short time Tom announced that he believed he saw how he might cross over to the little green plateau where the bighorns had been feeding.