98CHAPTER XIVTHE RING OF STEEL RUNNERS
As the little flotilla of ice yachts drew up close to the shore, the sound of boyish laughter must have been heard, for a man was seen approaching. He came from the direction of the cabin which they had sighted among the trees, and from the mud and stone chimney of which smoke was ascending straight into the air—a promise of continued good weather.
The boys were climbing up the bank when he reached them. So far as they could see he appeared to be a rough but genial man, and Paul believed they could easily trust him to take care of the boats while away.
“I suppose you are Abe Turner, spoken of by Mr. Garrity?” was the way Paul addressed the man, holding out his hand in friendly greeting.
The other’s face relaxed into a smile. Evidently he liked this manly looking young chap immediately, as most people did, for Paul had a peculiarly winning way about him.99
“That’s my name, and I reckon now you must be Paul,” said the other.
“Why, how did you know that?” demanded Bobolink, in surprise.
“Oh! I had a letter from Mr. Thomas Garrity telling me all about you boys, and ordering me to do anything you might want. You see he owns all the country around here, an’ I’m holding the fort until spring, when there’s going to be some big timber cutting done. We expect to get it to market down the Radway.”
The scouts exchanged pleased looks.
“Bully for Mr. Thomas Garrity!” shouted Tom Betts, “he’s all to the good, if his conversion to liking boys did come late in life. He’s bound to make up for all the lost time now. Three cheers, fellows, for our good friend!”
They were given with a rousing will, and the echoes must have alarmed some of the shy denizens of the snow forest, for a fox was seen to scurry across an open spot, and a bevy of crows in some not far distant oak trees started to caw and call.
“All we want you to do for us, Abe,” explained Paul, “is to take good care of our five iceboats, which we will have to leave with you.”
“And we might as well tell you in the beginning,” added Bobolink, “that several tough chaps100from our town have come up here to spend some time, just from learning of our plans.”
“Yes,” went on Tom Betts, the anxious one, “and nothing would tickle that Hank Lawson and his gang so much as to be able to sneak some of our boats away, or, failing that, to smash them into kindling wood with an axe.”
Abe nodded his shaggy head and smiled.
“I’ve heard some things about Hank Lawson,” he observed. “But take it from me that if he comes around my shanty trying any of his tricks he’ll get a lesson he’ll never forget. I’ll see to it that your boats are kept safe. I’ve two dogs off hunting in the woods just now, but I’ll fasten ’em nigh where you store the boats. I’m sorry for the boy who gets within the grip of Towser’s teeth, yes, or Clinch’s either.”
That was good news to Tom, who smiled as though finally satisfied that there was really nothing to be feared.
“Sorry to say we’ll have to be leaving you, boys,” announced Wallace just then, as he started to go the rounds with a mournful face, shaking hands with each lucky scout whom he envied so much.
“Hope you have the time of your lives,” called out another of those who were debarred from enjoying the outing.101
These boys started away, looking back from time to time as they crossed wide Lake Tokala. Finally, with a last parting salute, they darted into the mouth of the canal and were lost to view.
There was an immediate bustle, for time was flitting, and much remained to be done. The five owners of the iceboats proceeded to dismantle them, which was not a tedious proceeding. The masts were unstepped and hidden in a place by themselves. The sails were taken into the cabin of Abe, where they would be safe.
Meanwhile, the other boys had been engaged in making up the various packs which from now on must be shouldered by each member of the expedition. Experience in such things allowed them to accomplish more in a given time than novices would have been able to do.
“Everything seems to be ready, Paul,” announced Jack after a while, as they gathered around, each boy striving to fix his individual pack upon his back, and getting some other fellow to adjust the straps.
Bobolink seemed to have half again as much as any of the others, though this was really all his own doing. Besides his usual share of the luggage he had pots and pans and skillets sticking out in all directions, so that he presented the appearance of a traveling tinker.102
“It’s a great pity, Bobolink,” said Tom Betts, with a grin, as he surveyed his comrade after helping the other load up, “that you were born about seventy-five years too late.”
“Tell me why,” urged the other.
“Think what a peddler you would have made! You’d have been a howling success hawking your goods around the country.”
Of course they had all adjusted their skates before taking up their packs; for bending down would really have been next to a physical impossibility after those weighty burdens had been assumed.
“Hope you have a right good time, boys,” said Abe Turner in parting. “And don’t any of you worry about these boats. When you come back this way you’ll find everything slick and neat here.”
“Good for you, Abe,” cried Tom Betts. “And make up your mind to it the Banner Boy Scouts never forget their friends. You’re on the list, Abe. Good-bye!”
They were off at last, and it was high time, for the short December day was already getting well along toward its close. Night would come almost before they knew it, though they had no reason to expect anything like darkness, with that moon now much more than half full up there in the heavens.103
Some of the boys had noticed the mouth of this creek when camping on Cedar Island the previous summer. They had been so much occupied with fishing, taking flashlight pictures of little wild animals in their native haunts, and in solving certain mysteries that came their way that none of them had had time to explore the stream.
On this account then it would prove to be a new bit of country for them, and this fact rather pleased most of the boys, as they dearly loved to prowl around in a section they had never visited before.
Strung out in a straggling procession they skated along. The creek was about as crooked as anything could well be, a fact that influenced Bobolink to shout out:
“In the absence of a better name, fellows, I hereby christen this waterway Snake Creek; any objections?”
“It deserves the name, all right,” commented Spider Sexton, “for I never saw such a wiggly stream in all my born days.”
“Seems as if we had already come all of five miles, and nary a sign of a cabin ahead yet that I can see,” observed Phil Towns, presently, for Phil was really beginning to feel pretty well used up, not being quite so sturdy as some others among the ten scouts.104
“That’s the joke,” laughed Paul; “and it’s on me I guess more than any one else. I thought of nearly a thousand things, seems to me, but forgot to ask any one just how far it was up to the cabin from the lake by way of this scrambling creek.”
“Why, I’m sure Mr. Garrity said something like six miles!” exclaimed Jack.
“Yes, but that may have meant as the crow flies, straightaway,” returned the scout-master.
“At the worst then, Paul,” Bobolink ventured to say, “we can camp, and spend a night in the open under the hemlocks. Veteran scouts have no need to be afraid to tackle such a little game as that, with plenty of grub and blankets along.”
“Hear! hear!” said Phil Towns. “And as the sun has set already I for one wouldn’t care how soon you decided to do that stunt.”
“Oh! we ought to be good for another hour or so anyway, Phil,” Tom told him, at which the other only grunted and struck manfully out again.
As evening closed in about them, the shadows began to creep out of the heavy growth of timber by which the skaters were surrounded.
“Look! look! a deer!” shrieked Sandy Griggs, suddenly. Thrilled by the cry the others looked ahead just in time to see a flitting form disappear in the thick fringe of shrubbery that lined one side of the creek.
105CHAPTER XVTOLLY TIP AND THE FOREST CABIN
“Oh! that’s too bad!” exclaimed Spider Sexton, “I’ve been telling everybody we’d taste venison of our own killing while off on this trip, and there the first deer we’ve glimpsed gives us the merry ha-ha!”
“Rotten luck!” grumbled Jud Elderkin. “And me with a rifle gripped in my fist all the time. But I only had a glimpse of a brown object disappearing in the brush, and I never want to justwounda deer so it will suffer. That’s why I didn’t fire when I threw my gun up.”
“With me,” explained Jack Stormways, “it happened that Bluff here was just in my way when I had the chance to aim.”
“Well,” laughed Bobolink, “you might have shot straight through his head, because it’s a vacuum. I once heard a teacher tell him so when he failed in his lessons every day for a week.”
“Oh! there’s bound to be plenty of deer where you can see one so easily,” Paul told them, “so106cheer up. Unless I miss my guess we’ll have all sorts of game to eat while up here in the snow woods. Abe said it was a big season for fur and feather this year.”
They kept plodding along and put more miles behind them. The moon now had to be relied on to afford them light, because the last of the sunset glow had departed from the western heavens.
Phil was beginning to feel very tired, and feared he would have to give up unless inside of another mile or two they arrived at their intended destination. Being a proud boy he detested showing any signs of weakness, and clinched his teeth more tightly together as he pressed on, keeping a little behind the rest, so that no one should hear his occasional groan.
All at once a glad cry broke out ahead, coming from Sandy Griggs, who at the moment chanced to be in the van.
“I reckon that’s a jolly big fire yonder, fellows, unless I miss my guess!” he told them.
“It is a fire, sure thing,” agreed Bobolink.
“Tolly Tip has been looking for us, it seems, and has built a roaring blaze out of doors to serve as a guide to our faltering steps!” announced Jud, pompously, although he could hardly have been referring to himself, for his pace seemed to be just as swift and bold as when he first set out.107
“It’s less than half a mile away I should say, even with this crooked stream to navigate,” announced Bobolink, more to comfort Phil than anything else.
“Keep going right along, and don’t bother about me, I’m all right,” called the latter, cheerfully, from the rear.
In a short time the scouts drew near what proved to be a roaring fire built on the bank of the creek. They could see a man moving about, and he must have already heard their voices in the near distance for he was shading his eyes with his hand, and looking earnestly their way.
“Hello, Tolly Tip!” cried out the boisterous Bobolink. “Here we come, right-side up with care! How’s Mrs. Tip, and all the little Tips?”
This was only a boyish joke, for they had already been told by Mr. Garrity that the keeper of the hunting lodge was a jolly old bachelor. But Bobolink must have his say regardless of everything. They heard the trapper laugh as though he immediately fell in with the spirit of fun that these boys carried with them.
“He’s all right!” exclaimed Bobolink, on catching that boisterous laugh. “Who’s all right? Tolly Tip, the keeper of Deer Head Lodge, situated in Garrity Camp! For he’s a jolly good fellow, which none can deny!”108
Amidst all this laughter and chatter the ten scouts arrived at the spot where the welcoming blaze awaited them, to receive a warm welcome from the queer, old fellow who took care of Mr. Garrity whenever the latter chose to hide away from his business vexations up here in the woods.
The boys could see immediately that Tolly Tip was about as queer as his name would indicate. At the same time they believed they would like him. His blue eyes twinkled with good humor, and he had a droll Irish brogue that was bound to add to the flavor of the stories they felt sure he had on the end of his tongue.
“Sure, it’s delighted I am to say the lot av yees this night,” he said as they came crowding around, each wanting to shake his hand fiercely. “Mr. Garrity towld me in the letther he was after sindin’ up with the tame that ye war a foine bunch av lads, that would be afther kapin’ me awake all right. And sure I do belave ’twill be so.”
“I hope we won’t bother you too much while we’re here,” said Paul, understanding what an energetic crowd he was piloting on this excursion.
“Ye couldn’t do the same if ye tried,” Tolly Tip declared, heartily. “I have to be alone most all the long winther, an’ it do be a great trate to hav’ some lively lads visit me for a s’ason. Fetch the packs along wid ye into the cabin. I want109to make ye sorry for carrying all this stuff wid ye up here.”
His words mystified them until, having entered the capacious cabin built of hewn logs, with the chinks well filled with hard mortar, they were shown a wagonload of groceries which Mr. Garrity had actually taken secret pleasure in purchasing without letting the boys know anything about it.
A team had found its way across the miles of intervening woods, and delivered this magnificent present at the forest lodge. It was intended to be a surprise to the boys, and Mr. Garrity certainly overwhelmed them with his generosity.
Bobolink alone was seen to stand and gaze regretfully at the small edition of a grocery store, meanwhile shaking his head sorrowfully.
“What ails you, Bobolink?” demanded one of his chums.
“It can’t be done, no matter how many meals a day we try to make way with,” the other solemnly announced. “I’ve been calculating, and there’s enough stuff there to feed us a month. Then, besides, think of what we toted along. Shucks! why didn’t Nature make boys with India rubber stomachs.”
“Some fellows I happen to know have already been favored in that line,” hinted Tom Betts, maliciously;110“but as for the rest of us, we have to get along with just the old-fashioned kind.”
“Cheer up, Bobolink,” laughed Paul; “what we can’t devour we’ll be only too glad to leave to our good friend Tolly Tip here. The chances are he’ll know what to do with everything so none of it will be wasted.”
“When a man who all his life has been as tightfisted as Mr. Garrity does wake up,” said Phil Towns, “he goes to the other extreme, and shames a lot of people who’ve been calling themselves charitable.”
“Oh! that’s because he has so much to make up, I guess,” explained Jud.
While some of the boys started in to get a good supper ready the others went around taking a look at the cabin in the snowy woods that was to be their home for the next twelve days.
It had been strongly built to resist the cold, though as a rule the owner did not come up here after the leaves were off the forest trees. A stove in one room could be used to keep it as warm as toast when foot-long lengths of wood were fed to its capacious maw. The fire in the big open hearth served to heat the other room, and over this the cooking was also done.
Several bunks gave promise of snug sleeping quarters. As these would accommodate only four111it was evident that lots must be cast to see who the lucky quartette would prove to be.
“To-morrow,” said Paul, when speaking of this lack of accommodations, “one of the very first things we do will be to fix other bunks, because every scout should have a decent place for his bed. There’s plenty of room in here to make a regular scout dormitory of it.”
“Fine!” commented Tom Betts; “and those of us who draw the short straws can manage somehow with our blankets on the floor for one night, I guess.”
“We’ve all slept soundly on harder beds than that, let me tell you,” asserted Bobolink, “and for one I decline to draw a straw. Me for the soft side of a plank to-night, you hear.”
The other boys knew that Bobolink, in his generosity, really had in mind Phil and one or two more of the boys, not quite so accustomed to roughing it as others of the campers.
That supper, eaten under such novel surroundings, would long be remembered; for while these boys were old hands at camping, up to now they had never spent any time in the open while Jack Frost had his stamp on all nature, and the earth was covered with snow.
It was, all things considered, one of the greatest evenings in their lives.
112CHAPTER XVITHE FIRST NIGHT OUT
“Well, it’s started in to snow!”
Jud Elderkin made this surprising statement after he had gone to the door to take a peep at the weather.
“You must be fooling, Jud,” expostulated Tom, “because when I looked out not more’n fifteen minutes ago the moon was shining like everything.”
“All right, that may be, but she’s blanketed behind the clouds right now, and the snow’s coming down like fun,” asserted Jud.
“Seems that we didn’t get here any too soon, then,” chuckled Bluff.
“Oh! a little snow wouldn’t have bothered us any,” laughed Jack. “We’d never think of minding a heavy fall at home, and why should we worry now?”
“That’s a fact,” Bobolink went on to remark, with a look of solid satisfaction on his beaming face. “Plenty of wood under the shed near by,113and enough grub to feed an army. We’re all right.”
After several of them had gone to verify Jud’s statement, and had brought back positive evidence in the shape of snowballs, the boys again clustered around the jolly fire and continued to talk on various subjects that chanced to interest them.
“I wonder now,” remarked Bobolink, finally, “if Hank took Mr. Briggs’ money as well as set fire to his store.”
As this was the first mention that had been made concerning this subject Tolly Tip showed considerable interest.
“Is it the ould storekeeper in Stanhope ye mane?” he asked. “Because I did me tradin’ with the same the short time I was in town, and sorry a bargain did I ever sacure from Misther Briggs.”
“Plenty of other people are in the same boat with you there, Tolly Tip,” Sandy told him with a chuckle. “But his run of good luck has met with a snag. Somebody set fire to his store, which was partly burned down the other night.”
“Yes, and the worst part of it,” added Bobolink, “was that Mr. Briggs accidentally, or on purpose, let his insurance policy lapse, so that he can get no damages on account of this fire.”
“And the last thing we heard before coming away,” Phil Towns went on to say, “was that the114safe had been broken open and robbed. Poor old Levi Briggs’ cup is full to overflowing I guess. Everything seems to be coming his way in a bunch.”
“I suspect that this Hank ye’re tillin’ me about must be a wild harum-scarum broth av a boy thin?” remarked the old woodsman, puffing at his pipe contentedly.
“He is the toughest boy in town,” said Phil.
“And several others train with him who aim to beat his record if they can,” Spider Sexton hastened to add as his contribution.
“There’s absolutely nothing they wouldn’t try if they thought they could get some fun or gain out of it,” declared Jud emphatically.
“Do till!” exclaimed their host, shaking his head dolefully as though he disliked knowing that any boys could sink to such a low level.
“Why, only the other day,” said Bobolink, “Jack and I saw the gang pick on a couple of tramps who had just come out of Briggs’ store. So far as we knew the hoboes hadn’t offered to say a word to Hank and his crowd, but the fellows ran them out of town with a shower of stones. Didn’t they, Jack?”
“Yes. And we saw one tramp get a hard blow on the head from a rock, in the bargain,” assented Jack.115
“Wow! but they were a mad pair, let me tell you,” concluded Bobolink.
“By the same token,” observed Tolly Tip, “till me av one of the tramps had on an ould blue army coat wid rid linin’ to the same?”
Bobolink uttered an exclamation of surprise.
“Just what he did, I give you my word!” he replied hastily.
“And was the other chap a long-legged hobo, wid a face that made ye think av the sharp idge av a hatchet?” the old trapper questioned.
“I reckon you must have seen the pair yourself, Tolly Tip!” observed Bobolink. “Were you in Stanhope, or did they happen to pass this way?”
At that the taker of furs touched his cheek just below his eye with the tip of his finger, and smiled humorously.
“’Tis the black eye they were afther giving me early this day, sure it was,” he explained. “Not two miles away from here it happened, where the road cuts through the woods like a knife blade. I’d been out to look at a few traps set in that section whin I kim on the spalpeens. We had words, and the shorter chap wid the army coat ran, but the other engaged me. Before he cut stick he managed to lave the imprission av his fists on me face, bad luck to the same.”116
“I guess after all, Jack,” remarked Bobolink, “they must be a couple of hard cases, and Hank did the town a service when he chased them off.”
“It would be the first time on record then that the Lawson crowd was of any benefit to the community,” Jack commented; “but accidents will happen, you know. They didn’t mean to do a good turn, only have what they call fun.”
“So the shorter rascal didn’t have any fight in him, it seems, Tolly Tip?” Bobolink observed, as though the subject interested him considerably.
“Oh! as for that,” replied the trapper, “mebbe he do be afther thinkin’ discretion was the better part av valor. Ye say, he had one av his hands wrapped up in a rag, and I suspect he must have been hurt.”
“That’s interesting, at any rate!” declared Bobolink. “When we saw him he had the use of both hands. Something must have happened after that. I wonder what.”
“You’re the greatest fellow towonderI ever knew,” laughed Sandy Griggs.
“Bobolink likes to grapple with mysteries,” said Jud, “and from now on he’ll keep bothering his head about that tramp’s injured hand, wanting to know whether he cut himself with a broken bottle, or burned his fingers when cooking his coffee in an old tomato can over the campfire.”117
“Let Bobolink alone, boys,” said Paul. “If he chooses to amuse himself in that way what’s the odds? Who knows but what he may surprise us with a wonderful discovery some day.”
“Thank you, Paul,” the other remarked drily.
After that the subject was dropped. It did not offer much of interest to the other scouts, but Paul, glancing towards Bobolink several times, could easily see that he was pondering over something.
After all, the snow did not last long. Before they finally went to bed they found that the moon had once more appeared through a rift in the clouds, and not more than two inches of fresh snow had covered the ground.
There was considerable skirmishing around done when the boys commenced to make their final preparations for spending the first night in their winter camp. No one would think of taking Tolly Tip’s bunk when he generously offered it, and so straws were drawn for the remaining three, as well as the cot upon which Mr. Garrity slept when up at his Deer Head Lodge.
The fortunate ones turned out to be Paul, Bluff, Frank and Bobolink, though the last mentioned declared positively that he preferred sleeping on the floor as a novelty, and insisted that Phil Towns occupy his bunk.118
They managed to make themselves comfortable after a fashion, though the appearance of the “dormitory” excited considerable laughter, with the boys sprawled out in every direction.
All of the boys were up early, and they were eager to take up the many plans they had laid out for the day. Breakfast was the first thing on the calendar; and while it was being prepared and dispatched the tongues of that half score of boys ran on like the water over the wheel of the old mill, with a constant clatter.
There was no necessity for all of them to remain at home to work on the new bunks, so Paul picked out several to assist him in that work. The others were at liberty to carry out such scout activities as most appealed to their fancy. Some planned to go off with the woodsman to see how he managed with his steel traps, by means of which, during the winter, he expected to lay by quite a good-sized bundle of valuable fur. Then there was wood to chop, pictures to be taken, favorable places to be found for setting the camera during a coming night so as to get a flashlight view of a fox or a mink in the act of stealing the bait, as well as numerous other pleasant duties and diversions, all of which had been eagerly planned for the preceding night as the boys sat before the crackling fire.
119CHAPTER XVII“TIP-UPS” FOR PICKEREL
Tom Betts came up from the frozen creek.
“I don’t believe that little snow ought to keep us from trying the scheme we laid out between us, Jack,” he said, looking entreatingly at the other.
“Why, no, there wasn’t enough to hurt the skating,” replied the other, readily, much to Tom’s evident satisfaction.
“Bully for you, Jack!” he exclaimed. “There was more or less wind blowing at the time, and the snow was pretty dry, so it blew off the ice. We can easily make the lake in an hour I reckon, with daylight to help us. Besides, we know the way by this time, you see.”
“All right!” called out Frank, who had been detailed to assist Paul in the making of the extra bunks out of some spare boards that lay near by, having been brought into the woods for some purpose, though never used.
“Remember, you two fishermen,” warned Paul, “we’ll all have our mouths set for pickerel to-night,120so don’t dare disappoint us, or there will be a riot in the camp.”
“We’ve just got to get those fish, Jack,” said Tom, with mock solemnity, “even if we have to go in ourselves after them. Our lives wouldn’t be worth a pinch of salt in this crowd if they had to go pickerelless to-night.”
“Oh! that’ll do! Be off with you!” roared Jud Elderkin, making out to throw a frying-pan at Tom’s head.
When at the lake talking to the man who had agreed to look after their iceboats during their absence, the boys had learned that there was fine fishing through the ice to be had at this season of the year.
Abe Turner had also informed them that should they care to indulge in the sport at any time, and should skate down to his cabin, he would show them just how it was done. What was more to the point, he had a store of live minnows in a spring-hole that never froze up, even in the hardest winter, he had been told.
This then was the object that drew the two scouts, both of them exceedingly fond of fishing in every way. None of the boys had ever fished through the ice, it happened, though they knew how it was done.
Accordingly, Tom and Jack set off down the121creek, their skate runners sending back that clear ringing sound that is music in the ears of every lad who loves the outdoor sports of winter.
Jack carried his gun along. Not that he had any particular intention of hunting, for others had taken that upon themselves as a part of the day’s routine, but then a deer might happen to cross their path, and such a chance if it came would be too good to lose.
“You see,” commented Tom, after a mile or so had been placed to their credit, “the snow isn’t going to bother us the least bit. And I never enjoyed skating any better than right now.”
“Same here,” Jack told him. “And we certainly couldn’t find ourselves surrounded by a prettier scene, with every twig covered with snow.”
“Listen!”
Both of them stopped when Tom called in this fashion, and strained their ears to catch a repetition of the sound Tom had heard.
“Oh! that’s only a fox barking,” said Jack. “I’ve heard them do it many a time. You know they belong to the dog family, just as the wolf and jackal and hyena do. Tolly Tip has a couple of fox pelts already, and he says they are very numerous this year. Come on, let’s be moving again.”
So they pursued their winding way down the122straggling creek, first turning to the right and then to the left.
“It’s been just an hour since we left camp,” remarked Jack at length, “and there you can catch a glimpse of the lake through the trees yonder.”
Abe Turner was surprised as well as pleased to find two of the boys at his door that morning.
“Didn’t expect us back so soon, did you, Abe?” laughed Tom. “But in laying out the plans for to-day we found that some of the boys were fish hungry, so we decided to run down and take you up on your proposition.”
“Nothing would please me better,” Abe told them. “And it is about as good a day for ice fishing as anybody’d want to set eyes on. I’ll go right away and get my lines. Then we’ll pick up a pail, and put some of my minnows in it.”
Before long they were out upon the ice of Lake Tokala, Tom carrying an axe, Jack the various lines and “tip-ups” that were to signal when a fish had been hooked, and Abe with the live bait in a tin bucket.
The day was not a bitterly cold one, and this promised to make fishing agreeable work.
“On the big lakes where they do a heap of this kind of work,” explained their guide as they went toward Cedar Island, “the men build little shanties out on the ice, where they can keep fairly warm.123You see sometimes the weather is terribly cold. But a day like this makes it a pleasure to be out.”
Coming to a place where Abe knew from previous experience that a good haul could be made, the first hole was cut in the ice. As winter was still young this did not prove to be a hard task.
Abe had marked a dozen places where these holes were to be chopped, but the boys chose to watch him set his first line. After the novelty had worn off they would be ready to take a hand themselves.
There are many sorts of “tip-ups” used in this species of sport, but Abe’s kind answered all purposes and was very simple, being possibly the original “tip-up.”
He would take a branch that had a certain kind of fork as thick around as his little finger. In cutting this he left two short “feet” and one long one. To Tom’s mind it looked something like an old-fashioned cannon, with the line securely tied to the short projecting muzzle.
When the fish took hold this point was pulled down, with the result that the longer “tail” shot up into the air, the outstretched legs preventing the fork from being drawn into the hole.
At the end of the long “tail” Abe had fastened a small piece of red flannel. When a dozen lines were out it often kept a man busy running this124way and that to attend to the numerous calls as signaled by the upraised red flags.
“Now that we know just how it’s done,” said Tom, after they had seen the bait fastened to the hook and dropped into the lake, “we’ll get busy cutting all those other holes. My turn next, Jack, you remember. Watch my smoke.”
They had hardly finished the second hole before they heard Abe laughing, and glancing toward him discovered that he was holding up a two-pound, struggling pickerel.
“First blood for Abe!” cried Tom. “But if they keep on biting it’ll be our chance soon, Jack. My stars! but that is a beaut, though. A dozen like that would make the boys stare, I tell you.”
When Abe had arranged four lines he would not hear of the boys cutting any more holes.
“I’ll dig out a couple to make an even half dozen,” he told them. “And the way the pike are biting to-day I reckon we’ll get a good mess.”
“All right, then,” agreed Tom, much relieved, for he wanted to be pulling in the fish rather than doing the drudgery. “I’ll look after these two holes, Jack, and you skirmish around the others. And by jinks! if I haven’t got one right now!”
“The same here,” shouted the equally excited Jack. “Whew! how he does pull though! Must be a whopper this time. I hope I don’t lose him!”125
Fortune favored the ice fishermen, for both captives were saved, and they proved to be even larger than the first one taken.
So the fun went on. At times it slackened more or less, only to begin again with new momentum. The pile of fish on the ice, rapidly freezing, once they were exposed to the air, increased until at noon they had all they could think of carrying home.
“The rest of the day we’ll take things easy, and lay in a stock for Abe here,” suggested Tom; for the guide had told them he meant to cure as many of the fish as he could secure, since later on in the winter they would be much more difficult to catch, and it would be a long time until April came with its break-up of the ice.
The boys certainly enjoyed every minute of their stay at the lake. Jack was wise enough to know that they had better start for camp about three o’clock. It might not be quite so easy going back, as they would be tired, and the wind was against them.
They had skated for over half an hour, with their heavy packs on their backs, when again Tom called to his comrade to listen.
“And believe me it wasn’t a fox that time, Jack!” he declared, “but, as sure as you live, it sounded like somebody calling weakly for help!”
126CHAPTER XVIIITHE HELPING HAND OF A SCOUT
When Jack, listening, caught the same sound, he turned upon his companion with a serious expression on his face.
“Let’s kick off our skates and hang our packs up in the crotch of this tree, Tom,” he said.
“Then you expect to investigate, and find out what it means, do you?”
“We’d feel pretty mean if we went on our way like the Levite in the old story of the Good Samaritan,” remarked Jack, busily disengaging his bundle of fish which Abe had done up in a piece of old bagging.
“I’m the last one to do such a thing,” asserted Tom, “only I chanced to remember that there are some tough boys up here somewhere—Hank and his crowd—and I was wondering if this could be a trick to get us to put our fingers in a trap.”
Jack chuckled, and held up his gun.
“We ought to be able to take care of ourselves with this,” he told his chum.127
“Right you are, Jack! So let’s be on the jump. There! that sounded like a big groan, didn’t it? Somebody’s in a peck of trouble. Maybe a wood-chopper has had a tree fall on him or cut his foot with his axe, and is bleeding badly.”
“Just what I had in mind,” remarked the other, as they started into the shrubbery.
The groans continued; therefore, the two scouts had no difficulty in going directly to the spot. In a few minutes Tom clutched his chum’s sleeve and pointed directly ahead.
“Ginger! it looks like Sim Jeffreys,” he whispered.
“No other,” added Jack.
“But what’s the matter with the fellow?” continued Tom. “See how he keeps tugging away at his right leg. I bet you he’s gone and got it caught in a root, and can’t work it free. I’ve been through just such an experience.”
“We’ll soon find out,” remarked Jack, pushing forward.
“Be mighty careful, Jack,” urged the other, not yet wholly convinced that the groans were really genuine, for he knew how tricky Sim Jeffreys had always been.
By this time the other had become aware of their presence. He turned an agonized face toward them, upon which broke a gleam of wild128hope. If Sim Jeffreys were playing a part then, Jack thought, he must be a clever actor.
“Oh, say! ain’t I glad to see you boys,” he called, holding both his hands out toward them. “Come, help me get free from this pesky old trap here!”
“Trap!” echoed Tom. “Just what do you mean by that, Sim?”
“I ain’t tryin’ to fool you, boys. Sure I ain’t!” exclaimed the other, anxiously. “Seems to me like an old bear trap, though I never saw one before. I was out with my gun, lookin’ for partridges, when all of a sudden it jumped up and grabbed me right by the leg.”
Neither of the boys could believe this strange story until they had taken a look. Then they saw that it was just as Sim had declared. The trap was old and very rusty. Jack saw that it had lost much of its former fierce grip, which was lucky for poor Sim, for otherwise he might have had his leg badly injured.
Still the jaws retained enough force to hold the boy securely; though had Sim retained his presence of mind, instead of tugging wildly to break away, he might have found it possible to bear down on the weakened springs and set himself free.
Tom and Jack quickly did this service for the129other, who was profuse in his expressions of gratitude, though neither of the scouts believed in his sincerity, for Sim had a reputation for being slippery and double-faced.
“Why, I might have frozen to death here to-night,” he told them. “Even if I had lived till to-morrow I’d have starved sure. The bears would have got me too, or the wildcats.”
“Didn’t you call when you first got caught?” asked Tom.
“I should say I did, till I could hardly whisper, but nobody seemed to hear me shout,” came the reply, as Sim rubbed his swollen and painful leg. “Guess I’ll have to limp all the way back to the hole in the rocks where the rest of the boys are campin’.”
“How far away from here is it?” asked Jack, wondering whether they ought to do anything more for Sim or let him shift for himself.
“Oh, a mile and more, due west,” the boy told them. “Where that hill starts up, see? We haven’t got much grub along with us, b’cause, you see, we depended on shooting heaps of game. But so far I’ve knocked down only one bird.”
“Do you think you can make it, Sim?” persisted Jack.
The fellow limped around a little before replying.130
“I reckon I kin. Though I’ll be pretty sore to-morrow like as not, after this silly thing grabbin’ me the way it did. I know my way home, boys, never fear, and I’ll turn up there sooner or later. Much obliged for your help.”
With that Sim started off as though eager to get his hard work over with. And as there was nothing more to be done, the two chums returned to the creek, shouldered their heavy packs after resuming their skates, and went on their way.
It was just about dusk when they made the cabin on the bank of Snake Creek; and as the others discovered their burdens a shout of joy went up.
“The country’s safe,” said Jud, “since you’ve brought home a stack of fine pickerel. Let’s see what they look like, fellows.”
At sight of the big fish the boys were loud in their congratulations.
“Wouldn’t mind having a try at that fun myself one of these days,” asserted Jud, enviously. “Paul, jot it down that I’m to be your side partner when you take a notion to go down to the lake.”
“Some of you get busy here fixing the fish, if we mean to have them to-night,” remarked Jack, who was too tired to think of doing it himself.
“Too late for that this evening. We’ve got supper all ready for you. The fish will have to keep till to-morrow,” announced Bobolink.131
“What’s this I smell in the air?” demanded Tom. “Don’t tell me you’ve bagged a deer already?”
“Just what we have!” said Bobolink, his eyes glistening so, that it required little effort to decide who the lucky hunter was.
“Why, he wasn’t away from camp an hour,” asserted Phil Towns, “when we heard him whooping, and in he came with a young buck on his back. I never thought Bobolink was strong enough to tote that load a mile and more.”
“Huh! I’d have carried in an elephant if it had dropped to my gun, I felt that good!” declared the happy hunter.
“But all the adventures haven’t fallen to you fellows who stayed here in camp or wandered about in the adjacent woods,” announced Tom, mysteriously.
“What else have you been doing besides catching that dandy mess of fish?” asked the scout-master, voicing the curiosity of the entire crowd.
“Say! did you shoot some game, too—a deer, a wildcat, or maybe a big black bear?” demanded Bobolink, eagerly.
“No, the gun was never fired,” continued Tom. “But we’ve got a right to turn our badges over for this day, because we performed a Good Samaritan act.”132
“Go on and tell us about it!” urged Sandy Griggs.
“We heard groans, and weak calls for help,” said Tom, unable to keep back his news any longer, though he would have liked very much to continue tantalizing the others, “and after we had kicked off our skates and hung our packs in a tree, we went over into the woods and found––”
“What?” roared several of the curious scouts in unison.
“Who but our fellow townsman, Sim Jeffreys, whining and groaning to beat the band,” continued the narrator. “It seems that he had got caught in a trap, and expected to be frozen to death to-night, or starve there to-morrow.”
“A trap, did ye say?” asked Tolly Tip. And Paul noticed a sudden look of enlightenment come into his face.
“Tell us what sort of a trap, Tom?” urged Bobolink.
“A regular bear trap!” replied the one addressed.
“Oh, come now! you’re trying to play some sort of trick on us, fellows,” cried Spider Sexton. “How ever would a real bear trap come there?”
“Ask Tolly Tip,” suggested Paul.
“That’s right, lads, I know all about that trap,” admitted the old woodsman, as he grinned at133them. “I had an ole bear trap that had lost its grip and wasn’t wuth much. I sot the same in the woods, but nothin’ iver kim nigh it, and so I jest forgets all about the same. But bless me sowl I niver dramed it’d be afther grippin’ a lad by the leg. All he had to do was to push down on the springs, and he’d been loose.”
“I could see that plainly enough,” admitted Jack. “The trouble was Sim fell into a panic as soon as he found himself caught, and all he could do was to squirm and pull and shout and groan. It shows the foolishness of letting a thing scare you out of your seven senses.”
“But do you mean to say there are real, live bears around here, Tolly Tip?” demanded Bobolink, his eyes nearly round with excitement.
“There’s one rogue av a bear that I’ve tried to git for this two year, but by the same token he’s been too smart for the likes av me.”
“That interests me a whole lot,” remarked Paul; “and I mean to devote much of my spare time to trying to shoot that same bear with my camera in order to get a flashlight picture of him in his native haunts!”