CHAPTER XXV
SOME PECULIAR MARKS

He heard Will following after him, but did not look back. He wanted to see what the bear would do. Sam and Nat appeared bewildered, but Jack noticed that they moved away from bruin. The brute was quiet.

“I wonder if I killed him?” thought Jack. Then he called out: “Is he dead?”

“As a door-nail,” replied Sam.

“Are you hurt?” sung out Will.

“Only bruised some,” answered Sam, rubbing several places on his body.

By this time Jack had reached his chums. Their clothing was disheveled, and their hands and faces were covered with dirt, but the bear had not harmed them.

“I thought it was all up with you,” said Jack with relief in his voice.

“So did I,” admitted Nat. “But I guess that bear was dead when he started to roll. It was when it hit us, anyway, for it never made a move. It rolled right on top of us, and Sam yelled——”

“So did you,” spoke Sam quickly. “You were just as frightened as I was.”

“I guess that’s right,” admitted Nat. “But you got your bear, all right, Jack.”

They looked at the dead animal. It was a large grizzly.

“Another trophy for the gun club,” remarked Sam. “Say, we’re doing all right for amateurs. Jack’s new organization is a success.”

“It’s all to the bear steaks!” exclaimed Nat with a grin, as he gently caressed his elbow, where the skin was rubbed off.

“How are we going to get this back to camp?” asked Will.

“Oh, I guess we can pile it on the horses,” said Nat.

“Not until it’s cut up,” remarked Jack. “Did you ever try to lift a dead bear?”

None of them had, and when they tried to raise the lifeless bruin they found it beyond their strength. They had keen hunting knives with them, however, and soon had the bear skinned and the choicest portions cut off. Jack took the skin, intending to have a rug made of it. Then the horses were brought up, and the meat tied on the backs of the saddles. Satisfied with their day’s hunt thus far, the boys headed for camp, Will getting a shot at a fine ram on the way back, but missing it, much to his regret.

“Better luck next time,” consoled Jack.

Long Gun and Budge had a fine supper ready for the young hunters, and never was a meal better enjoyed. Then, as it grew dark, they all sat about the camp fire, listening to the story of killing the bear.

“Oh, this is the kind of life to lead,” said Nat with a sigh. “It’s simply perfect.”

“And to think that we’ll soon have to go back to Washington Hall,” put in Bony.

“I know where Jack would rather be than here,” said Sam with a grin barely visible in the flickering light of the camp fire.

“Where?” asked Nat.

“Over at Pryor’s Gap, where a certain girl with brown eyes——”

Plunk!

A wad of dried leaves took Sam squarely in the face.

“You dry up!” commanded Jack as he looked around for another missile.

“Oh, of course; but I thought you’d like to be reminded of her,” went on Sam.

“I guess he can think of her without you reminding him,” added Nat.

“I’m going to turn in,” announced Jack suddenly, and the laughs of his chums did not seem to disconcert him. They all retired a few minutes later and slept soundly.

“Well, what’s the program to-day?” asked Sam as they stepped from the tent the next morning into the cold, crisp air. “Hello,” he added, “it’s been snowing again.”

“Plenty good for track sheep,” announced Long Gun.

“Oh, we don’t need any fresh meat. What’s the use of going hunting again?” asked Jack.

“What will we do, then—go fishing?” demanded Nat.

“I have an idea that it would be fun to take a trip back over the mountain,” went on Jack. “We’ve never been in that direction.”

“It’s quite a climb,” said Bony as he looked up the immense hill, at the foot of which they were camped.

“I know it, but Long Gun says there’s a good trail, and we can go on our horses and take it easy. What do you say?”

“I say let’s go,” put in Will. “I heard there was some sort of a camp over there, and maybe I could get a trace of my uncle.”

“Then we’ll go,” decided Jack. “What sort of a camp is it?”

“I don’t know exactly. I met a man during my wanderings who told me he had been delivering supplies at a camp over on the eastern slope of Rattlesnake Mountain. This is Rattlesnake Mountain, isn’t it?”

“That’s the name it goes by,” said Jack. “But what sort of supplies did he take?”

“That’s the queer part of it. He couldn’t tell. They were in boxes, and he was never allowed to go very close to the camp. He always had to halt quite a way off, leave his stuff and drive away.”

“That’s queer,” commented Jack. “I wonder if that can have anything to do with——”

Then he stopped suddenly, without finishing his sentence.

“Well, with what?” asked Bony.

“Never mind,” replied Jack as he began oiling his gun. “Let’s get ready to go over the top of the mountain.”

They found it a hard climb, but they took it by degrees and did not hurry the horses, who were used to mountain trails. They reached the summit at noon, and after a rest and lunch, they started down the slope.

The newly-fallen snow made a white mantle over the earth, and it was undisturbed by any marks until they came along.

“No signs of game,” said Jack, “but I guess we don’t need any. Long Gun and Budge will be able to get up a good supper with what’s in camp,” for the Indian and the gum-chewing lad had remained behind.

They traveled on for a few miles farther, admiring the view of a much more wild and desolate country than was visible on the side of the mountain where they were staying.

“Well, I guess we’d better turn back,” called Sam as he noted that the sun was getting low in the sky.

“No; let’s ride down to that little level spot and look over,” proposed Jack. “Then we’ll come back.”

They were not long in reaching the place. Nat, who had urged his horse ahead, was the first to get to it. Suddenly he pulled his animal back and uttered a cry.

“What is it?” called Jack.

“Some peculiar tracks,” replied Nat. “Look here!”

They all rode up. There in the snow were many strange marks. The white crystals were scattered, and in some places the ground was swept bare. In other spots there were many footprints.

“See!” cried Jack. “The man with the arrow made in hobnails on the soles of his shoes has been here!”

He pointed to the impressions.

“Yes, and there’s been a fight or a struggle here,” added Sam. And, indeed, it did seem so, for in some places the ground was torn up, the dirt being scattered over the snow.

CHAPTER XXVI
THE SPRING TRAP

“No, I’m serious,” went on the lanky youth. “I think these men have some strange beast or bird in captivity, and that it gets away from them at times. Maybe that’s what happened here, and they had to fight to capture it again.”

“That’s nonsense!” exclaimed Sam.

“Not so nonsensical, either,” Jack hastened to say. “If it was an immense bird, like a big eagle, it would account for the noises we heard—at least, some of them.”

“But there is no eagle large enough for men to ride on its back,” objected Nat.

“How do you know men were on its back?”

“Didn’t we hear them call and speak about our camp fire? How could they see it unless they were up high in the air, on the back of some big bird?”

“They might have been on some point of the mountain above us,” said Bony. “They could have the eagle, or whatever it was, tied by a cord.”

“Yes,” admitted Nat; “but I don’t believe it’s a bird.”

“Me either,” came from Sam. “But what is it?”

“Let’s look at the marks a little more carefully,” proposed Jack.

“Several men have been here, struggling with the—the—er—whatever it was,” spoke Will. “See the different footprints.”

That much was evident. In addition to the man with the mark on his shoes of the arrow in hobnails, there were tracks of several other individuals.

“And if this isn’t the mark of a big bird’s wing, I’ll eat a pair of snowshoes!” exclaimed Nat suddenly. “Look here, fellows!”

They hurried to where he was. There in the snow was the unmistakable print of what seemed to be a wing of a great creature of the air.

“And here’s another wing,” added Sam a little later as he walked slowly over the level place. “But they’re some distance apart.”

“I should say so,” agreed Jack. “Sixty feet, if they’re an inch.”

“But the marks are those of two wings, and they were made at the same time,” went on Sam. “Look, you can see where the body comes between the wings. The bird was over on its back. That happened when they tried to secure it.”

“But sixty feet,” objected Nat. “There’s no bird living with a spread of wings like that. It’s out of the question.”

“Here’s the evidence,” spoke Sam obstinately. “You can see for yourself.”

“Sixty feet spread,” murmured Jack. “It doesn’t seem possible.”

But there was no doubt but that the marks in the snow were those of wings, and, as Jack paced the distance from tip to tip, they proved to be over sixty feet apart.

“Maybe the men have discovered some prehistoric monster,” suggested Will, “and are trying to subdue it so they can exhibit it. There used to be monsters as large as the marks left by this thing, whatever it is.”

“Yes,” admitted Jack; “but they disappeared from the earth ages ago. Only their fossil remains are to be found now.”

“But might one not be alive, by chance, in some big mountain cave?” asked Nat.

“I don’t know,” spoke Jack with a worried look. “It has me puzzled, fellows. I don’t know what to think.”

“Let’s go back to camp, tell Long Gun about it, and bring him here to-morrow to see it,” suggested Sam.

“Long Gun would never come,” said Jack. “He’s too much afraid of bad spirits. No, boys, we’ll have to solve this ourselves, if it’s to be solved at all.”

The boys walked around the little level place, whereon there was the mute evidence of some terrific struggle.

“The queer part of it is,” said Sam, “that the footsteps of the men don’t seem to go anywhere, nor come from anywhere. Look, they begin here, and they end over there, as if they had dropped down from the clouds and had gone up again on the back of the big bird.”

Jack looked more thoughtful. As Sam had said, there were no marks of the men coming or going, and they could not have reached the level place, nor departed from it, without leaving some marks in the tell-tale snow.

“I give it up!” exclaimed Jack. “Let’s get back to camp. It’s getting late.”

They started, talking of nothing on the way but the mystery, and becoming more and more tangled the more they discussed it.

It was getting dusk when they came in sight of the camp fire, and they saw Budge and the Indian busy at something to one side of the blaze.

“I wonder what they’re up to now?” said Jack.

“Oh, probably Budge is teaching Long Gun how to chew gum,” was Nat’s opinion.

A moment later something happened. Budge seemed to shoot through the air, as if blown up in an explosion. He shot over the top of a small tree, and coming down on the other side, hung suspended by one foot.

“Help me down! Help me down!” he cried.

“What’s the matter?” called Jack, spurring his horse forward.

“I’m caught!” answered Budge.

“It certainly does look so,” spoke Nat, and he could not refrain from laughing at the odd spectacle Budge presented as he hung by one leg in a rope that was fast to the top of a tree, which bent like a bow with his weight.

“Take me down!” wailed the unfortunate one.

“How did it happen?” asked Sam.

“Long Gun made a spring trap,” gasped Budge, “and—and——”

“And you wanted to try it,” finished Jack, as he went to his chum’s aid.

CHAPTER XXVII
ORDERED BACK

“All right,” replied Jack, and when his queer chum was near enough to him, Jack seized him around the waist. Nat, with his hunting knife, severed the thongs of deer sinew from which Long Gun had made the loop. Then Budge was released, and he assumed an upright position on the ground, while Will dropped from the bending tree, which straightway sprang back to its place.

“Hu!” grunted Long Gun, with just the suspicion of a smile on his copper-colored face. “Boy go up heap fast.”

“’Sright,” admitted Budge, while he began hunting through his pockets for a piece of gum.

“What in the world did you ever put your foot in that trap for?” asked Jack, when it was ascertained that Budge had not been injured.

“Well,” he said, “I’ll tell you. You see, I asked Long Gun to show me how to make a spring trap. I thought it might come in handy when I got back home. He showed me, and made one. But it didn’t look to me as if it would work. So I just touched the trigger with my foot, and—and——”

“We saw the rest,” finished Bony. “Cracky! But I thought at first you were giving us an exhibition of a human skyrocket.”

“Or trying to imitate the gigantic bird that left the marks in the snow,” added Sam. “Let’s tell Budge about it.”

Which they did; and as his chum was usually pretty sharp in his conclusions, Jack asked him what he thought it was that had made the mysterious prints in the snow.

“It must have been a roc, one of those birds you read about in the ‘Arabian Nights,’” declared Budge.

“There never were such birds,” objected Jack.

“Sure there were,” declared Budge. “It says so in the book.”

“No one ever saw one,” objected Sam.

“No, and you never saw George Washington,” spoke Budge quickly. “But you’re sure he was here once, ain’t you?”

“This is different,” remarked Bony.

“’Sallright. You’ll find that’s a big bird, like a roc,” declared Budge, while he began to help the Indian get supper.

They discussed, until quite late that night, the cause of the mysterious noises they had heard, and also what peculiar bird or beast had had the struggle with the men. Then Jack finally declared:

“Oh, what’s the use of wasting our breath over it? We can’t decide what it was. There’s only one thing to do.”

“What’s that?” asked Sam.

“Try and find out what it was.”

“How can we?”

“Well, I’ve got two plans. One is to make another trip on the other side of the mountain, and go farther next time. We can search for some sort of a camp.”

“And the other plan?” asked Will.

“Is to keep watch, and see if we hear that thing passing over our camp again. If we do, we’ll throw a lot of light wood on the fire, and when it blazes up we may catch sight of it.”

“That’s a good idea,” declared Nat. “We’ll take turns keeping watch at night, and we’ll begin right away.”

They agreed that this was a good plan, and the night was divided into six watches, one for each of the lads, as Long Gun positively refused to have anything to do with seeking a solution of the mystery. Some light wood was collected and piled near the camp fire, in readiness to throw on, so as to produce a bright blaze the moment the queer noise was heard in the air overhead.

But that night passed without incident, and so did the three following. During the day the boys went hunting in the forest, or fishing in the Shoshone River, having fairly good luck both on land and in the water.

It was about a week after Jack’s plan of keeping night watches had been in effect, that something happened. He had about given up hearing the noise again, and was about ready to propose that the next day they should go on a trip over the mountain.

It was Jack’s watch, and he was sitting by the camp fire, thinking of his father, his aunts and matters at home, and, it must be confessed, of a certain brown-eyed girl.

“I must take a trip over to Pryor’s Gap and see her,” he said softly to himself.

The fire was burning low, and Jack arose to put on some more wood. As he did so he heard a vibration in the air, not far above the camp. Then came what seemed to be a whirr of wings and a throbbing noise.

“The mystery! The mystery!” cried Jack, tossing an armful of light wood on the embers.

The fire blazed up at once, and Jack looked upward. He saw a great shape hovering over the camp, a shape that was fully sixty feet wide, and he knew he could not be mistaken, for there were the gigantic wings flapping. The object was flying right across the valley.

Will, Sam and Nat rushed from the tent. They had heard Jack’s cry.

“Do you see it?” the watcher demanded. “Right up there!”

The fire blazed up more brightly, and in the glare of it could be dimly seen something like a great bird.

“That’s it!” cried Nat. “Gasolened grasshoppers! but what is it?”

No one answered. The throbbing and whirring grew fainter, and the shape passed out of sight. From the tent could be heard the howling of Long Gun, as he prayed in his own tongue.

“Quit that!” yelled Bony from the canvas shelter. “Do you want to frighten us all to death?”

Then Long Gun’s cries were muffled, and it was evident that he had hidden his head under his blankets.

“This settles it!” declared Jack positively. “We’ll make another trip over the mountain to-morrow and see if we can’t solve this.”

“That’s what we will!” added Nat. “First thing you know we’ll wake up some night and find ourselves gone.”

They made preparations to be away all night if necessary, taking plenty of blankets and food. Budge and Long Gun decided to remain in camp to look after things.

“S’posin’youdon’tcomeback?” asked Budge, all in one word.

“Oh, we’ll come back,” replied Jack confidently. “If we don’t, you and Long Gun will have to come after us.”

“Where’llyoube?”

“You’ll have to hunt,” was Jack’s answer as he flicked his horse with the quirt.

They had decided to do some hunting as they proceeded, and were on the lookout for game. The weather continued fine, and the snow had disappeared, though they might expect heavy storms almost any day, Long Gun said.

They crossed the mountain ridge, and started down the other side, without having had a chance to shoot anything. They reached the place where they had seen the mysterious marks in the snow, and made a careful examination, but could discover nothing new.

“Well, Jack, which way now?” asked Sam as they stood looking about them.

“Down the mountain,” decided Jack. “I think we may get a shot at some deer, if we don’t find anything else in the valley. Long Gun said it was a good hunting ground.”

They rode on, Jack and Nat in advance. Whether their horses were better than the steeds of their companions, or whether Jack and Nat unconsciously urged them to greater speed, was not apparent, but the fact was that in about an hour the two found themselves alone, having distanced their companions.

“Let’s wait for them,” suggested Nat.

“No, let’s keep on. It’s a good trail, and they can’t miss it. They’ll catch up to us soon. Maybe we can see something to shoot if we go on a little way, or maybe——”

“Maybe we’ll see that mysterious bird,” finished Nat. “I believe you’d rather find that than kill a big buck.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” replied Jack slowly. “I’d like to get a nice buck, but I’d also like to solve that mystery.”

“Speaking of bucks,” whispered Nat quickly, “look there! Two of ’em!”

He pointed to a little glade, into which they were turning, and Jack saw two large mule deer feeding on the grass.

“A buck and a doe,” he said as he raised his rifle. “I think we are close enough to risk a shot. You take the buck, Nat. You haven’t had a good pair of horns yet, and that fellow has some beauts. We’ll both fire together.”

Nat nodded to show that he understood. The deer had not scented the young hunters, but were still quietly feeding. Slowly Jack and Nat raised their rifles, having dismounted from their horses.

Just as they were about to pull the triggers a curious thing happened. The deer suddenly raised their heads, and gazed at a spot to the left of them. Then they bounded away, so swiftly that it was difficult for the eye to follow them.

“Well, did you see that?” asked Nat. “Something scared them.”

“Yes, and it wasn’t us,” said Jack. “We’re out of sight, and the wind’s blowing from them to us. I’m going to see what it was that sent them off.”

He mounted his horse again, an example that Nat followed, and they rode down the glade to where the deer had been feeding.

“I wonder if it could have been a bear?” asked Jack of his chum. “If it was——”

He did not get a chance to finish the sentence, for even as he spoke the bushes just in front of the two lads were parted, and three men stepped into view.

“What are you lads doing here?” asked one of the strangers sternly.

“We—we were hunting,” replied Jack. “We saw two deer, but they ran before we could get a shot.”

“Well, you’d better make back tracks to where you came from,” said another man gruffly. “Vamoose, you!”

“Are these private grounds?” asked Jack. “We didn’t know. We’re camped on the other side of the mountain, and we understood we could hunt here.”

“Well, you can’t,” said the third man. “These aren’t private grounds, but we don’t want you around here, so you’d better skedaddle. Move on, now, or it won’t be healthy for you.”

As he spoke he advanced his rifle in a threatening manner.

“Oh, we don’t want to trespass,” spoke Nat. “We’ll go.”

“You’d better,” was the grim response of the man who had first spoken. “Clear out, and don’t come here again. We don’t want any spies around.”

“We’re not spies,” said Jack, wondering that the man should use such a term.

“Well, we don’t care what you are. Clear out! That’s all! Clear out!”

There was nothing to do but turn back. Slowly Jack and Nat wheeled their horses, meanwhile narrowly eyeing the men. The trio, though roughly dressed, did not appear like hard characters or desperadoes. They looked like miners.

“You’ll have to move faster than that,” said the man who had spoken first. “If you don’t we may have to make you.”

There was a movement in the bushes back of him, and Jack and Nat glanced in that direction to see who was coming. Another figure stepped into view, the figure of a lad well known to Jack and Nat, for it was none other than Jerry Chowden, the former bully of Washington Hall.

“Jerry Chowden!” gasped Jack.

“Jack—Jack Ranger!” exclaimed the bully, no less surprised than were the two lads on horses.

“Do you know him?” asked one of the men quickly of Jerry.

“Yes—er—that is——”

“Come on, you! Move away from here if you don’t want to get into trouble!” fairly shouted one of the men. He advanced toward Jack and Nat, who, deeming discretion the better part of valor, clapped spurs to their horses, and raced along the trail to rejoin their companions. As they galloped on Jack gave one glance over his shoulder. He saw Jerry Chowden in earnest conversation with the three men, and that our hero and Nat was the subject of the talk was evident from the manner in which the bully was pointing toward them.

CHAPTER XXVIII
WILL SAVES JACK’S LIFE

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

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

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

“I hardly think that.”

“What do you think, then?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, I’d rather you would.”

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

“I’d rather you would.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER XXIX
THE BLIZZARD

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” inquired Nat.

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

“Do you think it’ll be safe?”

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

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

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

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

“Smell anything?” he asked his chum.

Jack took several long breaths. Then he nodded.

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

“It can’t be,” declared Jack.

“But smell the gasolene.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Halt!”

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

“Where are you going?” the man demanded.

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

“Our camp?”

The man seemed much surprised.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s not so!” cried Jerry angrily.

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

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

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

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

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

“What is it?” asked Nat.

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

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

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

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

“What’s the matter?” asked Jack.

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER XXX
JACK’S HAZARDOUS PLAN

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Like fish?” asked Long Gun suddenly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure we can,” declared Jack.

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

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

“The very thing!” he cried.

“What?” asked Bony.

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

“How can we use that?” asked Nat.

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

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