“A good riddance to bad rubbish!” remarked Bluff, with a grin, as they saw the party disappear in the woods, with Bill Nackerson still snarling at his friends.
“I hope none of us will ever see that man again,” said Mr. Darrel, as he shook hands with each of his young friends.
“And, Bluff,” Frank observed, turning on the other, “I want to say that you did that business in fine shape. He seemed to have one eye on me, and I was afraid that if I started off to the cabin he would break loose.”
“That was a happy thought, your sending me,” replied Bluff, “and I’ll always feel that you did me a big favor. We’re sure glad to see you, Mr. Darrel. Hope you mean to spend some little time with us.”
“Only one night, boys,” replied the lumberman. “I have so much going on at Lumber Run Camp, with new men arriving daily, that it’s necessary for me to be on the job constantly. How are you all, anyway?”
“Feeling fine and dandy, sir,” Jerry told him.
“And getting some rattling good pictures in the bargain,” added Will. “I’ll show you what we’ve done, later on, sir.”
“How about you, Bluff?” demanded the lumberman, noticing that the other had not made any reply to his question. “I hope you’ve kept your appetite, and can come up smiling three times a day when the meal hour arrives?”
“Oh, I’m all right, Mr. Darrel!” replied Bluff. “Nothing the matter with my eating apparatus.”
During the rest of that day they had much to show their guest—and to tell him, as well. It seemed as though the lumberman was having the time of his life in the society of these bright young fellows. At least, he told them he was renewing his own youth.
They got up a supper later on that could be called sumptuous. Bluff and Frank exerted themselves to make a spread that would convince their guest they were well acquainted with camp cookery.
“I haven’t enjoyed a meal as much as that for years,” Mr. Darrel told them afterward, as they sat around the fire.
Bluff immediately commenced patting himself, as though he felt happy over having his work praised in this fashion. Will expected to start out presently, with one of the others for company, in order to place his camera trap again. He believed he could get a fox to take the tempting bait and thus photograph his own features.
The tongues clattered for several hours that evening. Mr. Darrel insisted on hearing scores of things connected with their past experiences. They had lots to tell, and every one took a hand in relating the story. It was almost like living those happy days over again, as they pictured the numerous thrilling episodes one after another.
Nothing would do but Bluff should arrange a couch on the floor, while their guest occupied his bunk. Mr. Darrel would have insisted on declining, only he saw how set the boy was upon carrying out his plan and what a deal of pleasure it seemed to afford him.
Indeed, Will and Jerry envied him that new bed when they saw what a cozy nest Frank and Bluff had made of it. A lot of hemlock browse, of which there was no lack in the vicinity of the woods cabin, had been piled up and covered with part of the blanket, the other fold being intended for a covering. As the fire was to be kept up through the night, since it was getting very cold outdoors, Bluff was not likely to suffer.
Mr. Darrel had been thoughtful enough to fetch his own blanket on his back. He knew each of the boys had one apiece, and realized that unless he provided for himself he must deprive one of them.
The owner of Lumber Run Camp stayed until the following noon. When finally he started back, two of the boys went part of the way with him.
“I hope to see you all again before many days, boys,” had been his parting words, “and if I don’t get over here, remember you must drop in at our camp on your way out. I want to keep in touch with such a fine lot of young chaps. And, Will, tell Uncle Felix for me that I’m a thousand times obliged to him for sending you up here. I feel ten years younger.”
Will was feeling very chipper that day. He had found his trap sprung, and upon developing the exposed film found that he had obtained a remarkably fine picture of a fox.
All the others told him he was making great headway toward winning that prize offered by the Maine railroad. The success that had rewarded his perseverance thus far did much to inspire Will with further ambition.
“If I could only get a view of a bull moose before we leave here, I think I’d be the happiest fellow in seven counties,” he said that evening, when again the four chums gathered before their crackling fire.
“Did you ever see a finer spell of brisk, bracing weather than we’ve been having?” Jerry wanted to know. “And, Frank, to-morrow we must be sure to get started on that hunt we’ve put off so long. The last bit of venison was cooked for supper to-night, you know; and what’s a camp in the woods without game hanging up?”
“That suits me all right,” Frank replied, “unless Will here, or Bluff, would rather keep you company.”
“Please don’t count on my doing any hunting with a murderous gun on this trip,” Will hastened to say. “I’m too much taken up with this new hobby of mine. Not that I would refuse to help eat any nice partridge, venison, or even bear meat, if you insist on bringing it into camp.”
At that the rest laughed.
“I’ve heard others talk that way before,” Frank remarked. “One old fellow who was said to be a natural woodsman, and who used to write splendid things for the sporting magazines, always boasted about going into the woods light, carrying little besides a blanket, a coffeepot, frying pan, cup, tin plate, and a few necessities in the way of coffee, tea, sugar, and the like.”
“Yes, I’ve heard of him, too,” broke in Bluff; “and while he used to make all manner of fun of the poor sillies who nearly broke their backs toting all sorts of good things like canned meats into camp, he confessed that he was always willing to help them get rid of the grub later on.”
In this lively fashion did they pass the evening, and then came the time for turning in. Another peaceful night followed. The boys were gradually forgetting Bill Nackerson and his threats. If they thought of him at all, it was with the hope that he had come to his senses, and concluded it would hardly pay to bother the inmates of the cabin, since they had such a stanch friend in the big lumberman.
On the following morning Jerry and Frank started off. The former was counting on making a respectable addition to the larder before they returned. Frank expected to take a new course, covering ground that none of them had as yet hunted over.
“At the same time,” he explained to Jerry, as they moved along, “I’m trying to keep a good distance away from the place where that other crowd is. We don’t hanker about having any trouble with Nackerson, and the best way to avoid it is to give him a wide berth.”
Presently it was thought advisable to keep still. In that frosty atmosphere even ordinary sounds could be heard at some distance, and deer have the sharpest of ears.
Of course, the hunters had headed up into what light wind was stirring, so that their coming might not be heralded by the scent upon which a wild animal depends to give him warning of the approach of danger.
A number of times they were flurried by flushing a covey of partridges. Jerry almost wished they had come prepared to load down with the birds; but until the last flickering chance of getting a deer had died out, Frank advised that they confine their attention to the one thing they had in mind.
“On the way home,” he told Jerry, when the other sighed at seeing three plump birds sitting on a limb within easy range, “we can get all we want, if the venison is missing.”
So Jerry had to be content. They had gone several miles from camp, and so far had not started a deer. Tracks in the snow had been seen several times. Indeed, Frank was really following a trail that he seemed to think rather fresh. It could do no harm, and might turn out a wise move on their part, Jerry realized, as he trotted along at the side of his chum.
“Did you hear anything like a shout then?” Frank suddenly asked.
Before Jerry could reply, it came again. This time the sound was seemingly close by, certainly not over a quarter of a mile away.
“Somebody’s in trouble, Frank!” exclaimed Jerry, immediately aroused. “That was a cry for help!”
“It certainly was,” agreed Frank. “We’ll push on in that direction; but let’s keep our eyes about us, and look sharp against anything like treachery.”
“You’re thinking of Nackerson?”
“Just who I am. He wouldn’t hesitate a minute if he could lure us into a trap. But that sound’s genuine enough, I must say.”
They hurried their footsteps. Indeed, the piteous nature of the cries thrilled the boys.
“He can’t be very far away now,” ventured Jerry, panting a little from his exertions.
“Just back of that scrub yonder,” replied Frank. “Let’s move out a little, and in that way we can see him before we get too close.”
Three minutes later Jerry broke out again.
“I can see him now, Frank! He’s sitting down and holding on to his foot. There he gets up again, and oh! my stars, Frank, what’s he got fastened to his leg? I declare to goodness if it doesn’t look like one of Jesse Wilcox’s bear traps!”
“Just what it is, Jerry, though it’s hard to believe!” added Frank, also excited. “Don’t you see who the poor chap is?”
“Why, as sure as anything it’s that Teddy we saw with Bill Nackerson on the train coming here! The poor fellow, to get himself in such a pickle as that!”
By this time the other boy had discovered their presence. He waved his hand, and begged them not to desert him, as he would soon freeze to death.
Frank had made up his mind no trap had been set for them, but that the agony of the poor fellow was genuine. Accordingly, he started on a run, with Jerry close at his heels.
Without waiting to ask questions, Frank set to work to release the imprisoned boy. While Teddy had been unable to get around to press down heavily enough on the double springs of the bear trap, it was not a difficult job for Frank to do, assisted by Jerry.
At first they almost dreaded to look closely at the leg of the released boy as he sat there in a heap, tenderly caressing it. When Frank did come to examine it, he was pleased to see that, after all, the damage was not so alarming.
“Luckily those springs have weakened with age; and then again the thick leather leggings you’re wearing have helped to save you some,” he told Teddy.
The leg had been lacerated more or less, and must have been exceedingly painful. Teddy was miles away from camp. He did not have a gun, and Frank began to wonder what could have brought him there. Apparently he must have been in the old bear trap for an hour or two.
“How did it happen, Teddy?” he asked, for information.
“I dunno just how I came to tread in that old trap,” the other replied, stopping his whimpering for a minute. “I was just walking along, and thinkin’ I’d soon get to Old Joe’s, when all at once it grabbed me. I thought at first I was killed. Then when I tried to get at the springs, and it seemed like my leg was beginnin’ to freeze, it scared me right bad. That’s why I hollered. I thought Joe might hear me.”
“Who’s Old Joe?” continued Frank.
“Why, you see, he’s a man that’s runnin’ a fur farm over this way,” Teddy explained. “He raises skunks for their skins. He was taken with me when he dropped in at our camp, and told me he wisht I’d come over and stay the winter out with him.”
“And were you on your way to his place when this happened?” asked Jerry.
The injured boy nodded his head in the affirmative. Frank was now down on his knees and starting to remove the legging. He meant to take a look at the wound, both to ascertain how serious it was, and perhaps do what he could to alleviate the suffering of the other.
“Did your uncle send you over to Old Joe’s?” he asked Teddy.
“Bill Nackerson isn’t really my uncle, you know, only a relation of some kind; and I’m right sorry now I ever asked him to take me on a hunting trip. I’ve led a dog’s life of it. After he knocked me down after supper last night I just couldn’t stand it any longer.”
“Then you ran away; is that what you mean?” inquired Jerry, deeply interested by this time and noting a bruise under Teddy’s eye.
“Just what I did,” muttered the boy. “After what I heard Bill Nackerson saying, I got the notion in my head that I wanted to cut out of there. Even a skunk farm couldn’t be quite so bad as he made it for me; anyhow, I was willin’ to take the chances. But that trap nearly finished me. What if you hadn’t heard me yelling?”
“You’d have had a hard spell of it, that’s sure,” Frank admitted. As it was below the freezing point at the time, he fancied poor Teddy might not have lived to see another day.
After he had examined the wound and managed to bind it up, he began to figure on what could be done. Plainly the deer hunt must be given up for that day. It seemed to be ill-fated, seeing that so many postponements were necessary.
Still, there was always a chance that on the way home they would pick up some partridges, which would have to do.
“Do you have any notion how far away this Old Joe’s place might be?” Frank asked Teddy, thinking that their best plan would be to get the boy there if it could be managed.
“I got an idea it was close by here,” replied Teddy. “He told me after I struck the little ravine on the trail it wasn’t more’n a quarter of a mile off.”
“If you think you can walk a little, with us helping you,” Frank continued, “we might go on and see if we can find the place.”
Jerry was sniffing the air at a lively rate.
“Yes, she’s close by, I give you my word for that,” he announced, as though he believed he was on the right scent.
Teddy seemed anxious to do all he could to help. He was desperately afraid the other boys might conclude to leave him, and as he was next to helpless the prospect alarmed him.
So they moved slowly along. Now and then the boy groaned a little. This was at such times as he happened to give his leg a wrench.
“I hope you’ll stand by me in case he ain’t home,” he ventured. “Joe, he told me he might shut up shop here and go to town for a month, so’s to be treated by a doctor for a trouble he’s got. I’m takin’ big chances in comin’ over without letting him know anything about it.”
“Well, we’re nearly there now,” observed Frank.
“There’s a wire fence!” exclaimed the injured boy. “See how tight it’s made, to keep the skunks from gettin’ away.”
“And I can see some sort of cabin farther on,” Frank announced.
As they drew nearer it struck them that everything looked deserted. Teddy was the first to voice his dismay.
“I don’t see a whiff of smoke comin’ from the chimbly,” he remarked. “I’m afraid he’s cleared out to town. Whatever will I do now? I just can’t stay here; and, as to gettin’ back to Bill’s place, I’d die on the way.”
They soon saw that the cabin was deserted. No doubt the raiser of skunks had made such arrangements as were possible, so that his pets might exist while he was away.
Frank knew there was only one thing that could be done: the wounded boy must be taken to their camp and looked after, for a short time at least. Later on, if he found he could walk fairly well, he might go back to the other cabin in which the rival hunters were quartered.
“Let’s see if we can find an old ax around,” Frank said.
“What are you meaning to do—break in the locked door?” Jerry inquired.
Teddy looked anxious, and full of curiosity besides.
“There’d be no use in doing that, because Teddy couldn’t stop here all by himself,” Frank explained.
“What do we want an ax for, then?” continued Jerry.
“It’s this way,” he was told: “we’ll have to get him back with us, because he can’t be left here. And as he can’t walk all the way, the thing for us to do is to knock some kind of a litter together and carry him between us.”
Jerry was immediately interested.
“Guess we can do that, all right, Frank,” he exclaimed; “and there’s your ax over by the chopping block. It’s a tough-looking thing, but might answer in an emergency like this.”
“You must never look a gift-horse in the mouth; it isn’t right,” Frank told him, as he laid hold of the nicked ax and looked around for some poles of the proper type.
“There’s where a tree was cut down some years ago,” Jerry told Frank. “See what a nest of young growth has started up around the stump! They’d make great hop poles, wouldn’t they? And I don’t see why we shouldn’t get all we want for our stretcher right here.”
“We certainly can,” replied Frank, beginning to swing the apology for an ax.
He soon began to fell the straight saplings by twos and threes. There would be no trouble about obtaining as many as they needed, it soon became apparent.
When a stack had been trimmed off, the two boys started to work making a rude litter. All they had to fasten the poles together with consisted of their stout bandannas and some cord Jerry chanced to find in his coat pocket.
As both lads were of an ingenious turn of mind, they managed to rig up a litter that looked pretty comfortable. Over the bars they spread a thick coat of hemlock, tearing off small branches so that the fragrant foliage might not be lost.
“And let me tell you,” remarked Jerry, when their work was finished, “I wouldn’t mind being carried on such an elegant litter, myself. Talk to me about Oriental palanquins and Jap jinrickshas; this has got the whole bunch beat, if I do say it as oughtn’t. Teddy, climb on, and let’s see how she goes.”
Teddy was only too willing to do so. He gave each of the boys a grateful look that spoke louder than the words he used to express his thanks.
“Shucks, don’t mention it!” said Jerry, with a shrug of his shoulders. “Why, we wouldn’t deserve to be called hunters if we did anything less. When people go to the woods they ought to be willing to hold out a helping hand to anybody that’s in trouble, even if it’s their worst enemy. If we ran on Bill, fixed the same way, we’d stand by him; wouldn’t we, Frank?”
“We’d feel that we had to,” was the reply.
It was with a feeling of chagrin that Jerry found himself heading for home and walking at one end of the litter. He managed to keep his gun handy, and the first time Frank spoke of seeing partridges close by the burden was hastily deposited on the ground, and, rifles in hand, the young hunters crept toward the spot.
In this foray they succeeded in dropping two birds, and that comforted Jerry a little. Later on the operation was repeated; and as several more partridges, instead of taking themselves off, insisted on perching in another tree, a third brace fell to the aim of the marksmen.
“My mind is easy now!” declared Jerry, when they had deposited this assortment of game upon the stretcher alongside the wounded boy. “No starvation staring us in the face yet awhile. I am chuckling to think how the other fellows will stare when they see what we’re bringing in with us.”
“You’re mighty good to me,” muttered Teddy, “and I’m a lucky feller to have run on you like I did. I got a good mind to tell something—mebbe I will yet.”
Whatever he had on his mind, Frank could guess that it was weighing heavily. He supposed, of course, that it had to do with Bill Nackerson. Perhaps Teddy had heard something while in the rival camp that concerned some evil work the ugly sportsman had been concerned in.
After taking a number of rests on the way, as the afternoon wore on they drew near their home camp. Jerry sent out a shout to warn Will and Bluff that they were coming. He wanted to make sure that both were outdoors on the watch; so that they might be mystified by seeing the hunters coming back in such a queer fashion.
Just as Jerry had anticipated, there was a loud shout of wonder.
“Why, whatever have you got?” Will exclaimed, rubbing his eyes.
“Is that the way you fellows fetch a deer home?” demanded Bluff; and then gaped anew when he discovered a head raised above the side of the litter.
“Why, it isn’t a deer at all!” cried Will.
“Looks like that boy on the train, what’s his name—Teddy!” exclaimed the sharp-eyed Bluff. A minute later he saw that his guess was a good one, as the bearers of the litter set it down before the cabin door.
“Whatever has happened to him; Jerry, I hope you didn’t mistake him for a deer, and shoot him in the leg?” Bluff burst out, for he had already discovered that the boy’s left limb was bound up in some rude fashion.
At that Jerry hardly knew whether to look indignant, or laugh.
“Well, I hope I can tell a deer better than to take a boy for one,” he remarked, “though I know lots of people are shot every year in the woods all over the country, just because hunters will dress in brown khaki or corduroy. But it happens that poor Teddy got his leg into a bear trap, you see.”
Of course that aroused the curiosity of the two stay-at-homes more than ever.
“Tell us about it, won’t you?” they pleaded.
“Hold on a bit, till we get Teddy settled in that rustic chair by the fire. He’s nearly frozen, I want you to know,” Jerry announced. Between them they carried the injured boy indoors.
“I hope I’ll be able to stand on both my feet in a day or two,” Teddy said, as though he hated to put them to such trouble. “But it’s mighty nice the way you’re treating me; and after Bill showed himself so nasty mean.”
It was Frank’s intention to go at the wound again with warm water, and then use some lotion he always carried for just such purposes. A cut made by the jaws of that rusty old trap might bring on blood poisoning, unless it were taken in hand properly, and thoroughly cleansed.
Jerry was capable of doing all the talking necessary, while Frank set to work at his task.
“We ran on Teddy by accident,” the former explained. “First thing we knew we were listening to somebody calling for help. We followed it up, and came on him. The old trap was set by a fur farmer that’s got a place four miles from here—and for one I’m real glad it is that far, because it’s skunks he raises.”
“Huh! that’s interesting!” commented Bluff.
“You’d think it was highly interesting, if ever you meandered that way,” Jerry assured him. “Well, we took Teddy to the farm, where he was heading at the time, having cleared out from his uncle’s camp, you see.”
Jerry touched his cheek just under the right eye, and in that way called the attention of Will and Bluff to the discolored mark the other boy was carrying. They both nodded their heads, as though understanding what he meant.
“How did it come that you thought best not to leave him there?” asked Will.
“Nobody home,” Jerry chirped; “house shut up, and old man skipped to town. Teddy said he hinted about going down to have some sort of an operation performed. Don’t blame him for seizing the first chance he got to clear out. You would too, if you ever visited there.”
“And does Frank mean to keep Teddy here with us?” asked Bluff, in a low tone, so the wounded boy might not catch what he was saying.
“Don’t just know what we’ll have to do about it,” Jerry replied, looking as though he felt of considerable importance, since he had shared in the adventure. “A whole lot depends on how he feels to-morrow. You see, he’s lit out from Nackerson’s camp, and don’t want to go back; but he may have to yet, and stand the racket the best way possible.”
All of them felt sorry for Teddy. At the same time that did not mean to take him in with them, and have what Bluff said would be a “fifth wheel to the wagon, when just four were needed to make it complete.”
If it came down to a necessity doubtless every one of the outdoor chums would have voted to make room for the boy. That mark under his eye told what a brute Nackerson must be. If once Teddy could get safely back home, he would never be tempted to start out into the woods to serve as a cook for a party of sportsmen.
There was plenty of time to get the partridges ready and a fire made in the hole dug in the ground, as on that former occasion. The memory of that delightful treat seemed to haunt all the boys, so that they yearned for a second.
Of course during the afternoon the boys were in and out a great deal. Teddy always seized the chance to have a few friendly words with whoever came near him. He evinced the liveliest interest in all they were doing, and pleased Will by asking many questions concerning his method of taking night pictures with his flashlight.
“If I only get better soon, and you don’t chase me back to that camp again,” Teddy said, with a sigh, “I’d like nothing better than to do your cooking right along. And then maybe some night you’d let me go with you into the woods where you set your picture trap. I’d be only too glad to help you any way I might.”
That set Will to thinking. He tried to picture the discomforts which the poor fellow must have been up against, forced to obey the slightest whim of such a bad-tempered man as Bill Nackerson. If the latter would sink so low as to strike the boy he might do even worse.
“I guess it’s up to us to house Teddy the rest of the time we’re here,” Will said to Bluff, as they worked at getting more firewood close to the cabin so as to always have a fair supply handy, in case a snowstorm settled in.
Bluff frowned, and shook his head dubiously. Evidently he too had been thinking about that same subject; and somehow it failed to appeal as strongly to him as to the more tender-hearted Will.
It was past the middle of the afternoon when this talk occurred. Frank and Jerry were busy elsewhere.
“I don’t know about that,” Bluff remarked. “In the first place we’ve got just four bunks, which is one apiece. While I was willing to give mine up to Mr. Darrel, I’d seriously object to being turned out by a boy, and Nackerson’s boy at that.”
“No need of that,” Will rejoined; “if he stayed he’d be only too glad to sleep on that floor cot you had. Besides, he says he’s a good cook, and would take that job on his shoulders. You know some of us sometimes hate to have to work at getting the grub ready.”
“Y-yes, I guess we do, Will,” admitted Bluff, who could remember lots of occasions when he served only through a sense of duty, and not because he was fond of getting meals.
“Then besides,” continued Will, seeing that his argument was beginning to tell, as Bluff showed signs of cooling down, “what if we made him go back to Nackerson, and anything happened to him, we wouldn’t ever be able to forgive ourselves.”
“He certainly is in a bad box,” muttered Bluff.
“Put yourself in his place, if you can, Bluff; and see how you’d feel about it, that’s all,” continued Will. “But then, I ought to know you too well to think you’d send a chap adrift, when we could give him a shelter and three square meals a day just as easy as say so.”
“Let Frank decide it,” Bluff said at last in desperation. “Whatever he settles on the rest of us’ll agree to stand for. Frank knows best what to do and there will be no kick coming, whatever he says.”
Will went away satisfied that Teddy would stay. Bluff was generally the obstreperous one, and if he could be induced to shift all responsibility on to Frank’s shoulders, there was little more to say.
It may have been half an hour after this talk that the boys heard a shout off in the woods in the direction of Lumber Run Camp.
“Wonder what’s going to strike us now?” remarked Jerry, who had been cleaning his gun and had just reloaded its magazine. At the time he was sitting by the fire, but so warm did it feel inside the cabin that they had left the door part way open.
Bluff was already reaching for his gun. There was a look on his face that could hardly be called one of alarm; at the same time it seemed to speak of excitement.
“Perhaps that crowd is coming over again to bulldoze us,” he suggested.
“Oh! I hope not,” said Will, at the same time thinking it his duty to look for his gun, which he had not fired since arriving in the Big Woods.
“Come outdoors, fellows!” they heard Frank say; for at the time it happened he was busying himself at something in the open, and had his gun handy.
All of them came together not far from the door. This time there was no lack of firearms in evidence. They had taken warning from that other occasion when caught in an almost helpless condition by the Nackerson crowd.
“Two men coming this way,” announced Frank presently.
“That must mean Bill, and one of his pals,” muttered Bluff, as he began to fumble with his pump-gun, so as to make sure it was in working order. “How had we better string out to receive ’em, Frank? It won’t do to keep in a bunch here. Hadn’t I better slip along, and be ready to come up on their right flank?”
“Better hold your horses a while, Bluff,” advised Frank, with a laugh, “because after all it isn’t the Nackerson crowd.”
“But who else can they be?” the other demanded.
“Of course I don’t know for sure,” Frank informed him; “but it strikes me one of the men looks like the cook they had at Lumber Run Camp.”
“Gee, whiz! but there seems to be an awful lot of cooks broken loose lately,” Bluff complained, having in mind what Will had suggested with reference to Teddy. “It must be catching, like the measles, this running away from the stew-pans and flapjack fixings. But let ’em come on; we can stand for nearly anything.”
The two men came up and Frank saw there was nothing to be feared from that source. The idea had already flashed through his mind that possibly Mr. Darrel may have sent a message by them; he hoped the lumberman was not ill, or anything like that.
“I’m on my way out with the cook,” one of the men explained. “You see his wife has sent word to him to come home right away. I expect to fetch another mess cook along back with me, to stay the winter out. And seein’ as we expected to come by not far from your place here, the boss he says, says he: ‘Just drop in, and hand the boys this communication from me.’ Reckon it ’splains itself, boys. So we’ll be goin’, because the cook is fair wild to get home. Twins is an event in his fambly that ain’t never happened before.”
The two men hurried away even while Frank was opening the paper that had been placed in his hand.
“Read it out loud, please, Frank, so the whole of us can get a grip on what he’s written to you,” suggested Jerry.
“Listen, then,” said Frank, who had shown signs of some little excitement. “‘This is to inform you, dear boys, that last night a sneaking incendiary tried to burn us out at Lumber Run Camp. The damage didn’t amount to much; but I’m offering a hundred dollars reward for information that will convict the miserable wretch who started that fire. A word to the wise is sufficient. Samuel Darrel.’”
“Well, wouldn’t that jar you?” remarked Bluff, as he heard what was contained in the brief communication from the lumberman.
“Tried to burn down the camp at Lumber Run, did they?” burst out Jerry. “Well, if you asked me my opinion, I’d have to admit that I didn’t like the looks of a few of those lumberjacks.”
“But nobody has accused any of the loggers of the crime,” remarked Frank, and at that the head projecting from the opening at the door came a little further into view; which was pretty good evidence, Frank thought, that the wounded boy must take considerable interest in the discussion.
“Why, who else would try to turn on Mr. Darrel that way, and burn his shanties down just when winter is setting in?” asked Bluff.
“We can only give a guess at that,” Frank told him.
“Whew!” exclaimed Bluff, as he grasped the meaning back of those few words. “After all, I wouldn’t put it past him, Frank.”
“Who—what—where—how?” demanded Will, apparently confused, and not able to understand what all these strange hints portended.
“We had a specimen of his nasty temper, you know,” continued Bluff. “Yes, twice now we’ve heard him tear around like a bull in a china shop.”
“Oh! now I tumble to what you mean,” cried Will, who did not often use any sort of slang, and must therefore have been unusually excited to fall into the habit. “It’s Bill—Bill Nackerson!”
Frank nodded his head.
“He’s the only party around that we know of who would be mean enough to try to set buildings on fire, just to get even with a man he disliked,” he observed.
“Yes, and didn’t we hear him threaten to do something before long, so as to hit back at Mr. Darrel?” Jerry wanted to know, as if he had all along been suspicious of the big sportsman.
“That’s what we did,” asserted Will. “To think of him trying to burn Lumber Run Camp; and as like as not it was when all the men were sound asleep! Why, he might have been the death of some of them!”
“Whoever started the fire didn’t care a hoot whether it hurt or not, I think,” Bluff gave as his opinion.
Frank noticed that the head had disappeared from alongside the open door. Evidently Teddy had heard enough. He must have limped from his chair to the doorway upon hearing strange voices outside. Perhaps he had suspected that the others brought news of some startling character.
Frank did not tell all of his chums about what he had seen. At the same time it gave him food for much serious thought.
“I wouldn’t be at all surprised if Teddy knew something about that fire business,” he mentioned to Bluff, a short time later, when they walked together down to the spot where the mink tracks had been seen, as the latter had shown more or less interest in the habits of these little animals.
“Do you really think so?” said the other, with a frown.
“He heard strangers talking outside when those two loggers came up,” Frank continued, “and even dragged himself to the door to listen. I saw his head, though after a bit, when we had talked matters over, he went back to the fire again.”
“See here, Frank, you don’t think Teddy could have set that fire, I hope?” demanded Bluff, uneasily.
“Oh! no, it isn’t so bad as that,” he was assured. “Teddy is telling us the truth when he says he ran away from the camp last night, after Nackerson had knocked him down.”
“The big coward!” muttered Bluff, clenching his fists and shaking his head, as though he would like nothing better than to get in a blow at the bully.
“My opinion, as far as I have any, is about like this,” Frank continued. “After Nackerson struck Teddy the boy happened to overhear him boasting about what he meant to do to the camp at Lumber Run.”
“Oh! I see now what you mean, Frank; when he found that Bill was getting in deeper and deeper, Teddy just made up his mind that was no place for a decent fellow to stay, and so he skipped out.”
“You’ve got it about straight, Bluff,” Frank admitted. “Of course, I’m only guessing all this, remember. Don’t say one word of it to Teddy. Let him worry over it, and perhaps after a bit he’ll understand that there’s no reason why he should keep a still tongue in his head, to shield a rascal who didn’t hesitate to strike him a cowardly blow.”
Bluff was not slow of comprehension. He saw what Frank’s plan was, and while he may not have entirely agreed with such a course, there was no disposition to interfere.
“You know best how to work it, Frank,” he said simply. “I’ll keep as mum as an oyster till you give me the tip that it’s time to speak. Just as you say, Teddy couldn’t have been the one to put the match to the camp over at Lumber Run. When Nackerson had gone away, perhaps with one of his pals who agreed to stand back of him, that’s the time Teddy lit out.”
“He struck it pretty hard at first, getting caught in that trap,” Frank mused; “but when you come right down to facts I guess it was just as well that it happened to him.”
“Huh! that’s a queer thing to say,” remonstrated Bluff. “Getting hung up in an old bear trap a blessing in disguise, was it? I’d like to know how you figure that out, Frank.”
“This way,” explained the other. “If he had missed connections with that trap Teddy would have reached the skunk farm only to meet with disappointment.”
“Sure he would, because Old Joe, as he called the fur farmer, had pulled up stakes and gone to town for some weeks,” Bluff admitted.
“As Teddy didn’t know where we hung out, and couldn’t find his way to Lumber Run Camp, you can see that he would have had to choose between going back to Nackerson, or losing himself in the Big Woods.”
“Whew! it does take you to see through things,” Bluff declared, with a laugh. “I can understand now that it was a big streak of luck for Ted when he met with that bear trap. We never know when we’re well off, do we? But show me what you were telling about this mink, Frank; and how the old chap visits around in and out of these holes in the bank during the winter and early spring.”
Frank was always accommodating, especially when anything connected with his knowledge of nature was concerned. He loved to watch the small woods folk when they did not suspect his presence, and learn more and more of their interesting habits.
So that day passed. Another, and yet a third found the boys enjoying themselves to the limit. Teddy was showing decided signs of improvement. He could get around fairly well by now, Jerry having cut him a walking-stick, with a crook at the end. He was beginning to get over the nervousness that had shown itself for a whole day following his advent in the new camp.
Perhaps the boy had feared that Nackerson might come storming along, and insist on his returning to his duties as cook. He feared the brutal sportsman more than ever, now that he had found such a fine harbor of refuge with the outdoor chums. To go back to that other drudgery would have been torture.
As soon as he was able to get around he insisted on taking charge of the cooking. And the boys soon learned that Teddy could manage splendidly. He had to be shown very little so as to suit their tastes; and none of them regretted in the least that they had extended a helping hand toward one in distress.
A new life was opening up to Teddy. He had never before come in contact with such an agreeable lot of companions and every hour of the day he tried to prove himself grateful.
Still, he did not mention a word about what he might possibly know of the dastardly deed, when some one attempted to fire the logging camp. Frank often saw a worried expression come over the boy’s face, and at such times he suspected that Teddy was puzzling his brain as to just what his duty might be. He did not like to betray his kinsman, and yet felt that it was not right to refrain from taking someone into his confidence.
“He may speak sooner or later,” Frank told himself; “and if he does, it will not be the reward of a hundred dollars for information that will make him tell.”
On the second day, about noon, some of the boys were busy near the cabin, laying in an extra supply of firewood. Frank had an idea they would be visited by a big snowfall before twenty-four hours had passed.
“Of course that’s only a hazard, fellows,” he told Bluff and Jerry, who were helping him add to the handy heap close to the door of the cabin, “but there does seem to be a feeling of dampness in the air, for all it’s so cold; and the sun, you notice, shines through a sort of hazy curtain.”
“I think just the same way you do, Frank,” Jerry remarked; “and if you asked me to say when, I’d guess it was going to strike us before night.”
“We’ve got off pretty fortunately so far about storms,” Bluff went on, as he threw another armful of fuel on the already huge pile.
“If it does come down on us,” Frank continued, “we’ll not lack for fresh meat, anyway. That was a lucky shot you made yesterday, Bluff. The buckshot shell did the business, too, for after you fired both barrels the buck went down with a crash.”
“And to think it happened so near our camp that we managed to tote the whole carcass to the cabin,” and Bluff looked with pride in his eyes toward a deer that was hanging, in real sportsman style, from a limb, head downward.
“If we don’t get another while we’re up here in the Big Woods,” said Jerry, suppressing the natural twinge of jealousy he felt, “we ought to be satisfied with our bag. And Will is just wild over the bully pictures he’s accumulating every day and night.”
“It does seem as though he had met with nothing but success, so far,” Frank admitted. “I hope he gets that prize the railroads are offering. So far as I can tell he has a dandy collection already, and we’ve got some time ahead of us still.”
“By the way, where is Will now?” asked Bluff,
“About half an hour ago he told me he was going off to the place where we discovered that comical colony of squirrels that amused us yesterday,” Frank explained. “He hoped by keeping as still as a mouse to get a snap at them when they were carrying on that way. I think myself it would be a fine woods picture, and add to his collection.”
“Speaking of angels, and you’re most sure to hear their wings,” chuckled Jerry; “for there’s Will coming this way now.”
“And on the run, too!” added Frank. “He looks excited, fellows. I wonder what he’s run across now?”
Will was almost out of breath. They could see that his face was red from his exertions, but filled with excitement as well; while his eyes were, as Bluff expressed it, “sticking out of his head!”
“Oh! what a whopper!” he gasped, as he drew near the spot where they stood.
“What’s that?” demanded Frank, wondering what was coming now.
“And such tre-mendous horns, too!” continued Will, involuntarily stretching out both hands until he had them wide apart.
“Horns, Will?” Bluff fired at him; “cows have horns, deer carry antlers!”
“I said horns, didn’t I?” asserted the other with determination. “That’s what they were, sticking away up over his head that was like a mule’s. But I snapped him before he turned and trotted off!”
“What trotted off?” shrilled Bluff.
“The biggest old bull moose that ever lived in the State of Maine,” Will replied.
“A bull moose, you say, Will?” echoed Bluff, his face lighting up with sudden energy.
“That’s what I mean,” replied the other. “I know what you’re thinking, Bluff, and that I wouldn’t know a bull moose if I saw one. But you’re away off in your guess. I’ve so longed to meet up with one when I had my camera with me that I’ve been picturing how he’d look. And, Frank, believe me, it was a beaut—a regular monster!”
“How did it happen, Will?” asked Frank.
“I was sitting as still as anything,” the other related, “after I’d got two dandy snaps at that funny squirrel family playing around the tree where they have their home, and was hoping for another whack at them to complete the set, when all at once I heard a whiffing sound.”
“Gee! what wouldn’t I give to have been alongside, with my gun!” sighed Bluff; “but go on, Will; what happened next?”
“Oh, I looked up to see what had made that queer sound, and there he was, just standing and looking straight at me! I was nearly scared to death at first, for he looked nearly as big as a barn. Then I knew it must be a bull moose; and the next thing I found myself taking his picture.”
“Did he run away then?” asked Frank.
“Turned and trotted off, as if he didn’t care whether school kept or not,” Will continued. “I even had the nerve to shoot him again as he was going. And don’t I hope that first picture turns out good! It was a remarkable pose, if only the focus was right.”
He started toward the cabin door as though anxious to develop his roll of film and discover what success his labor had resulted in. Bluff caught him by the arm.
“Wait just a minute or two, Will,” he pleaded. “Tell us some more. Where did all this happen?”
“Frank knows where that squirrel colony have their nest in the tree that’s got a hole in the trunk about thirty feet up,” the other replied.
“But you’re dead sure, are you, it wasn’t just a big buck deer you saw?” continued Bluff, who apparently could not bring himself to believe a mighty moose had wandered that near the camp.
“If only you’ll hold your horses until I can develop this film, you shall see for yourself whether I know a stag from a bull moose,” he was told by the indignant photographer, as the latter broke away and vanished inside the cabin.
Bluff turned to Frank.
“Let’s all take a look,” he suggested.
“I was just going to say the same myself,” Jerry added, being evidently quite as much interested as Bluff.
Frank was more than willing. He did not feel that they could entirely depend on the evidence of Will, who may have been so startled by the sudden coming of some animal that his imagination worked overtime.
“I hope it wasn’t just a mule that strayed away from some lumber camp,” he told the others, as they hurried off; but not before Bluff and Jerry had darted inside the cabin and reappeared, carrying their guns.
“They do say a moose has the same sort of a head as a mule,” Bluff admitted; “but then Will vows it had horns—terribly big horns—which no mule I ever saw could boast of owning.”
“Well, chances are it was a bull moose,” Frank admitted; “but we’ll soon know.”
“That light snow falling last night was in our favor, for the tracks will show up well,” suggested Jerry.
“Here’s the place,” Frank told them, a short time afterward. “You can see the tree with the hole in it over there, and I think I even saw a squirrel frisk out of sight as we came up.”
“Yes, and here’s where Will made himself a seat,” added Bluff. “He fixed it so he could sit comfortably, and not have to frighten the family of bushy-tails by moving. Now, he didn’t say he turned his head; just looked up when first he heard that queer noise.”
“Yes,” said Jerry, “which would make it over there that the thing showed up. Let’s take a look at the ground, and see if Will was dreaming or not.”
Before half a minute had passed, Frank was pointing to certain marks plainly seen in the inch and more of snow that had fallen on the previous night, perhaps as a sort of forerunner of the coming storm.
“There you are, fellows!” he announced.
All stared hard at the monstrous tracks. Bluff even got down on hands and knees in order to see better.
“It was a moose, all right, Frank!” said Jerry.
“From the prints made by its big split hoofs, I’m pretty sure of that,” Frank asserted; “I’m beginning to believe Will was not so far out of the way, after all, when he said it might be the giant of all Maine moose!”
Bluff got up again, shaking his head.
“Oh, the meanest luck that ever was!” he lamented. “Why couldn’t I have taken a notion to step out here with Will, to watch the way he took the pictures of that squirrel family? I’d have had my gun across my knees, with buckshot in every shell, of course. Think how easy I could have dropped him, with such a short distance between. It’s cruel, that’s what it is!”
Jerry clapped him on the shoulder.
“Tell me what’s to hinder a couple of us going after the old chap, Bluff?” he asked, in an eager voice.
“You’ll have to count me out of that deal,” Frank told them. “You remember that I sprained my ankle yesterday, and a long walk would lay me up. If anybody goes, it will have to be you two.”
Jerry looked at Bluff.
“I dare you!” he said.
“No need of that,” came the reply, “because I’d be willing to start after that moose alone, and follow him for a week, if I thought I could get a fair crack at him in the end.”
“Then it’s a go, Bluff?” cried Jerry, greatly pleased, for up to now he had not been given much of a chance to bring down any big game on this trip, and was secretly chafing.
They shook hands on the bargain, and so it was ratified.
“When ought we make the start?” asked Jerry impetuously.
“The sooner the better, so as to keep his lead cut down as much as we can,” he was told by Bluff, after which they both turned toward Frank, for, after all, it would be from this quarter that the signal to start must eventually come.
“No need of rushing off as though you were crazy,” Frank told them. “Will says the moose didn’t act as though it was badly frightened by seeing him, so it isn’t likely it will cover a great many miles before stopping again. Lunch must be nearly ready. You must stop long enough to eat a lot, because there’s no telling when you may get another square meal.”
Bluff glanced quickly at Frank.
“Oh, we won’t get lost!” he said loftily. “Both of us have been around some in the woods; and, besides, I always carry a compass.”
“I wasn’t thinking so much of that as the chance of a blizzard coming down on you,” Frank continued. “Be sure to take along an extra supply of matches. I’ll see to it that each of you has something to help make out a meal or so. It won’t weigh heavy; but if you do need it you’ll thank me for it.”
Bluff and Jerry may have considered Frank a bit too old-womanish, making all that fuss over just going off on a little chase after a wandering moose.
Frank, however, understood what a blizzard meant up there in Maine. He had been in one or two himself, and would not care to repeat certain experiences that had come his way, unless well provided against hunger and bitter cold.
The three soon reached the cabin. It chanced that just then the call to the midday meal came. Will was too busy working at his developing tank to sit down with the rest.
“Plenty of time when I get through with this,” he told them. “Give me five minutes more to get this film in fresh water and then I’ll come.”
Bluff and Jerry were hurrying as fast as they could. Frank had redeemed his promise to see that there was something put up in small shape that would help out for supper, in case they were delayed. He also thrust several small boxes of safety matches into each of their coats, and made sure Bluff had his compass.
“Well,” said Will, stepping forward and holding up a dripping film, “take a peep at this, will you, and tell me if I know what I’m talking about or not!”
As soon as the boys saw the splendid negative, in clear-cut lights and shadows, they burst into a chorus of cries.
“It’s a moose, all right, Will!” Frank told the proud photographer.
“And sure a whopper, just as you said!” added Bluff.
“We take it all back,” Jerry vowed. “After this, we’ll own up that you know a bull moose from a mule or a buck deer every time.”
“That’s going to be a prize picture, all right!”
Those last words from Frank made Will very proud.
“I believe myself that I never got such splendid effects!” he exclaimed. “Why, I warrant you can see every hair on his head. Just look how I got him square in the middle of my plate! It’s better to be born lucky than rich, any day.”
“I’m done eating,” announced Bluff.
“Couldn’t cram another bite down, after seeing that picture!” Jerry proclaimed, as he darted over to the corner where his rifle stood, and began to buckle on the webbed belt filled with cartridges.
“Wear your sweaters, and be sure your woolen gloves are in your pockets,” cautioned weather-wise Frank.
He hovered about the pair, and constantly warned them against carelessness.
“I hope you get that big moose,” he told them, as they all pushed outdoors, “but don’t take too big chances. We would feel pretty sorry if anything happened to mar our holiday up here.”
“Frank, you can depend on us to be careful,” Bluff told him earnestly. “But for goodness’ sake don’t worry about us. We’re not the ‘Babes in the Woods,’ you know. If I do say it myself, we’ve had our eyeteeth cut for some time. There never was such a bully chance to get a big moose, and we want to do our level best. Look for us when we come. If we don’t show up by night, why, chances are we found ourselves so far away that we concluded to make camp.”
Bluff and Jerry shook hands gravely all around, even with Teddy.
“Good luck, and I hope you get him!” said that individual, meaning every word, for he had already come to care a great deal for these jolly boys who had been the means of helping him over a very rough place in the road.
“Got everything now?” asked Bluff.
“I should hope so,” grunted Jerry. “We’d be pack horses if we tried to carry any more truck along.”
“Of course,” Frank told them, laughingly; “but if you should have to stay over to-night you’ll miss your blankets the worst way. Well, so-long, boys, and we all wish you success.”
Turning, Bluff and his chum started for the spot where the trail of the big moose was to be taken up.
“This is easy enough work, Bluff!”
Jerry said this as the two plodded along, following the trail left by the clumsy animal that had looked in on Will so unexpectedly.
“So far, we haven’t had any particular trouble,” Bluff replied. “The snowfall is what is called good tracking snow—that is, it’s just heavy enough without holding you up and making it hard traveling.”
“I wonder how much farther the old fellow means to go?” Jerry whispered, for he had been already warned by his chum that loud talking was unwise when on the trail of any animal with such keen hearing as a moose.
“Give it up,” Bluff replied. “I was just thinking how lucky it is for us he keeps heading straight into the wind. But I know how that is. A deer nearly always goes that way, because he can tell by means of his nose whether there’s any danger waiting for him ahead.”
“It makes it easier for the trackers, doesn’t it, Bluff?”
Bluff only grunted. He wanted to discourage his companion from trying to carry on a conversation. It was pretty hard to squelch Jerry under ordinary conditions, but his own good sense as a hunter must surely tell him how necessary it was they keep quiet.
They had been going along for more than two hours, and in such a direct line that they figured they must be some miles from camp. Neither of them recognized their surroundings, which would seem to indicate that they were in a section of the Big Woods they had never visited before.
Bluff was considerable of a woodsman. He consulted his compass frequently, and took various notes of his surroundings. Jerry saw all this, and had the utmost confidence in their ability to return to camp at any time the notion struck them.
If they were bothering their heads about anything just then, it must have been in connection with the chances they had of overtaking the big moose. Every little while Jerry would beseech his comrade to tell him how close he thought they had come to the quarry. On such occasions Bluff would prove true to his name. Although he actually did not know for certain, he would look wise, take another keen observation, wrinkle his nose, and then hazard some opinion.
“We’re gaining, all right,” he was pretty sure to tell Jerry, though declining to commit himself to any particular figures.
Both were by now beginning to feel the effect of the tramp. While the snow was hardly deep enough to interfere to any marked degree with their progress, in the long run it added to the labor of lifting their feet countless times. Its weight, whenever it clung to their heavy shoes, made an additional burden to be reckoned with.
“Bluff, it’s beginning!” whispered Jerry, after another spell of silence had reigned between them and they had covered still more ground.
“What is?” demanded Bluff, turning around to look at his chum uneasily, for he had detected a ring of uncertainty in Jerry’s utterance.
“I saw a snowflake drifting down just then; and—yes, there’s another; you can tell for yourself, Bluff!”
“Huh! Hang the luck, if it begins to come down on us now and blots out our trail, we’ll be in the soup!”
The flakes came down pretty heavily for a few minutes, while the boys continued to press on with mingled emotions.
It proved to be a false alarm, however. In five minutes Jerry remarked, again in an excited whisper:
“She’s letting up, Bluff; sure she is! I don’t believe we’re due for any big storm yet. The sky’s brightening a lot.”
Bluff saw that things were commencing to look better; but he fancied this was only a temporary relief. It might hold back for an hour, and even be delayed longer; but Bluff was almost as certain as Frank had been that a storm was impending.
“If the blooming old thing’d only keep away till we’d bagged our game, I wouldn’t say a single thing,” he muttered, and then fell silent while following the trail.
Fortunately there had not been enough snow to hinder them from seeing the plain tracks of the moose. So heavy an animal was bound to sink in and leave a trail that even a greenhorn could follow fairly well.
“What time is it, Bluff?” asked Jerry, upon seeing the other snatch a look at the little gun-metal watch he carried.
“Close on three,” he was informed.
“And we’ve been walking since noon, nearly,” Jerry continued. “We must have gone miles and miles.”
Bluff did not answer. He hoped in that way to convince his talkative chum that while there was a time for everything, a tracking expedition, with a wary old bull moose ahead, was not the occasion for carrying on a general conversation.
Occasionally flakes of snow would drift down. Jerry always observed their coming with fresh apprehension, and was correspondingly relieved when they stopped. It was as if the weather were holding off, though when the storm did break it was apt to prove all the more fierce on account of the delay.
Bluff had ceased examining his compass now. In fact, he was caring precious little whether they found themselves lost or not. Looking ahead, a night in the Big Woods did not appall him; being fond of adventure, Bluff might even welcome the experience for a change.
Being thrown on their own resources would bring out their ability to take care of themselves. Bluff was vain enough to want to show Frank he could be trusted when off in the timber, and get out of any tangle that might envelop them.
Perhaps when Jerry happened to feel the little package of food thrust into one of his pockets by thoughtful Frank, he no longer had that inclination to laugh. Knowledge that they carried their supper along with them was growing more and more inspiring the farther they walked.
“Even if we did come up on the moose soon,” Jerry observed, keeping his voice low, “I don’t believe I’d be equal to the job of going all the way back to our cabin again this afternoon.”
“Huh! Camp, then!” grunted Bluff.
“If we have to do that, I’ll surely forgive Frank for making me tote my little camp hatchet along, because it will come in handy for chopping firewood, don’t you think so, Bluff?”
“Sure,” was all the other could be induced to say, and he snapped that out as though he had a special grievance against the poor little word.
Jerry looked at him with gloomy brow.
“You’re not very sociable, it strikes me,” he ventured.
“And you’re too much that way,” he was told bluntly. “When you want to hear yourself talk so much, why don’t you hire a hall? But when you’re going to all this trouble to overtake an old bull moose, please, please shut up!”
“I won’t say another word for ten minutes!” declared Jerry, in a huff.
“Make it fifteen and I’ll thank you double,” whispered Bluff.
After that they walked on and on, neither as much as whispering. Bluff, in the lead, was bending part way over, so that his tired eyes could the better see the trail. All that whiteness was beginning to dazzle him considerably. Bluff felt a little alarmed, and hoped that he might not go snow-blind just when they were drawing near the quarry.
The wind was increasing, and it felt colder than at any time since they had arrived in the Big Woods. Should the snow start to descend, and the gale grow in volume, they must unite to form what Frank had called a blizzard.
Bluff knew something about such a storm. He had even been through an experience of the sort, though at the time he happened to be close to home, and on a well-traveled road, so there had been no such thing as getting lost.
It would be vastly different here, where the trees looked pretty much alike and all sense of direction must depend on a compass.
Jerry was, to tell the truth, pretty near the point where he would be willing to call a halt. A big moose was all very well, if only you could overtake him; but this thing of pushing on and on everlastingly, without seeming to get a yard nearer your intended game, seemed foolish.
That was what Jerry had begun to tell himself. He wondered how much farther his chum meant to go. Jerry would have asked the question, but really he was afraid Bluff would turn on him and snap him up in that quick way he had. Besides, he had said he did not mean to speak for at least ten minutes.
While he cast frequent looks ahead, it was more in the hope of seeing signs of the westering sun peeping out from the gray clouds that covered the heavens everywhere than that he dreamed of making any other agreeable discovery.
Once they had actually seen a deer jumping off through the timber. Bluff had half raised his gun to his shoulder, perhaps through instinct, and then lowered it again instantly, with a negative shake of his head.
Having started out for big game, he did not mean to be diverted from his course. A deer they could secure almost any time, but never again would such a glorious chance arise for getting a shot at a moose—and such a moose, in the bargain!
Frank had advised Bluff to leave his pump-gun behind this time, and carry the repeating rifle which Frank owned, a very serviceable and reliable weapon.
“A shotgun is all very well,” he had argued, “and some of them will shoot charges of twelve buckshot in a satisfactory way; but when it’s a tough old bull moose you’re after, or like that grizzly out West, you need something better. These soft-nosed bullets will mushroom when they strike, and fetch even a lion. They’re the kind they call dum-dum bullets, and are not allowed in warfare any more, but can be used for big-game hunting.”
And so it came that Bluff was carrying another firearm than his favorite pump-gun. Frank knew how tough these old moose may prove to be, and what sort of missiles it took to bring them down to their knees. That was why he had insisted on Bluff’s making the change in weapons at the last moment.
Jerry was soon wondering if that ten minutes must not be up, and whether Bluff would scold if he ventured to make just one little remark. He was getting tired, and he certainly did not mean to keep up this merry chase indefinitely. If he had a good chance, he wanted to tell Bluff that.
Then he observed that Bluff was showing signs of fresh interest. Yes, he even displayed more or less excitement, and bent lower than ever while examining the tracks before him.
Jerry, being held up momentarily by this action on the part of his comrade, assumed the easiest position he could, so as to rest his tired muscles, and then patiently waited for the other to start on again.
It was while standing in this attitude and looking carelessly beyond that some slight movement attracted the attention of Jerry. He started, and looked again. Then he felt an icy chill run over his frame, to be followed instantly by a burning sensation.
Yes, it moved again, he could be positive! His startled eyes traveled over the immensity of the brownish figure that was outlined there against the snowy background. Not daring, and really unable, to say a single word, Jerry simply reached out a quivering hand and, jerking at his chum’s coat, pointed directly forward.
And Bluff, looking, saw the moose before them, looking, as Will had said, “as big as a barn.”