"Wake up! wake up!"
Both Frank and Jerry shouted at the top of their strong voices. The others came tumbling into view, and loud were their expressions of dismay at the terrible sight that met their eyes.
"Get busy here, every one! Water wanted, and never mind your clothes!"
Even while he was speaking Frank jumped into action. The night air struck home, and made him shiver, for he had just tumbled out from between the snug folds of his blanket; but this was a time when delay might mean the complete wiping out of the camp.
Will gave a whoop and immediately vanished again inside the tent. He had not gone to rescue any of his clothes, nor did he even think of getting into them; but when he reappeared it was with his camera hugged tightly in his arms.
Meanwhile the others had set to work with a vim. There was fortunately no wind, so that the fire had burned sluggishly. Then again the late storm had wet the dead leaves then on the ground, and they had not as yet become thoroughly dry, so it took quite some time for them to get over smouldering, and burst into a vigorous flame.
"We're getting it down, fellows; keep right along hitting it hard!" called Frank, cheerily.
Even old Toby had appeared from under the fly where he slept. He had been dreadfully scared at first, doubtless under the impression that the mate to the dead bob-cat had invaded the camp, intent on revenge. This feeling soon gave way to the desire to see the camp saved, and he labored faithfully with the rest.
Scattering the smouldering leaves, beating out the fire with any sort of thing they could snatch up in their excitement, they managed to get the flames under control after a little while.
It had been a most exciting experience, however. Bluff was swinging his blanket vigorously, and thrashing the fire with it effectively; though he might later on have some difficulty in getting rid of the smudges that this process necessarily produced.
"Victory!" shouted Jerry, when the last vestige of the fire had gone under.
Bluff threw his blanket around his shoulders and strutted about with the air of a conqueror;
"They have to get up early in the morning if they expect to beat us,'' he said, proudly.
"Talk about your hot times, that was a scorcher!" cried Jerry.
"But I'm beginning to shiver now all right; and I advise every one to crawl into his clothes in a hurry. Then we can talk it over. It's a mighty suspicious thing, that's what," remarked Frank.
They were only too glad to take his advice, and shortly after the four gathered around the revived campfire to exchange opinions.
They were a pretty smutty-looking crowd; but Jerry declared that those marks were medals of honor.
"Now, if we had all been like Will here, and each rushed for his possessions, the camp would have been a-goner," he remarked, with a reproachful look.
"That's all right, fellows, and under any other conditions I would have been one of the first to assist; but I'm the official photographer of the expedition, and the guardian of those splendid films that must perpetuate our camping trip, for posterity," he explained.
"Hear! hear!" cried Frank.
"Why didn't you lay the outfit down at a safe distance then, and help fight the fire with us?" demanded Bluff.
"I guess I know enough to take warning from your sad experience. They hooked your old gun; the next thing they'll be after will be my camera. No, sir, I hang on to that business through thick and thin. They'll have to chloroform me to get my films away, and that's so."
"Was it an accident?" asked Bluff, looking to Frank for an opinion.
"What do you think, Jerry?" demanded the leader.
"It couldn't have been an accident, and I'm dead sure of it," was the reply.
"Suppose you state your reasons then."
"First, we banked the fire down as usual before crawling into bed. Then there wasn't a particle of wind to scatter the sparks. And last, but not least, those heaps of dead leaves were carried here! I happen to know that place was just about bare last evening!" replied the other, seriously.
Will uttered an exclamation of wonder and alarm.
"Do you really mean to say that some fellows would be mean enough to try and burn our camp?" he asked.
"I wouldn't put it past that Andy Lasher. Talk to me about your heathen! he's just about equal to any of 'em. But don't you agree with me, Frank?"
"Certainly I do, because I happen to have a strong bit of evidence whichI picked up out there close to the burning leaves."
He held something up.
"A match-box!" exclaimed Will.
"Do any of you own that?"
"Pass it around. I never saw it before," declared Jerry, as he handled the little silver article in which several matches still remained.
"Well, I have, then," remarked Bluff, suddenly, as he stared at the trophy; "and just as I thought, here are two initials on it."
"What are they?" asked Jerry, showing excitement.
"That doesn't cover any of Andy's crowd, though," said Jerry, seemingly disappointed.
"The real owner of this match-box is Herman Bancroft," announced Bluff; "I've had it in my hands more than once. You know I went with him for a time."
"He wanted to join our Rod, Gun and Camera Club, but the black ball dished his chances. Perhaps Herman was mad about that; perhaps he even followed us up here, and has tried to get even," suggested Will.
"That's hard to believe, for he isn't the bad fellow some people say. A little wild, but with a good heart. I'd rather believe he lost it, and one of that crowd picked it up," said Bluff, sturdily.
"That's just like you, Bluff, standing up for a friend. Well, I'm rather inclined to believe the same way. Anyhow, it was a mighty mean dodge. If that Andy Lasher keeps on he'll get in a peck of trouble sooner or later. Why, for such a thing as this he deserves a peppering of shot at a distance," said Frank, indignantly.
"It was criminal, that's what. We might have been smothered in our beds," remarked Bluff.
"Or my camera might have been utterly destroyed," wailed Will.
Old Toby said nothing, but he cast many an anxious look around at the adjacent trees, as if he had an idea lingering under his woolly pate that in some way or other this new disaster might have a connection with the shooting of the wildcat.
Things assumed a normal aspect after a while, and only for the scent of burnt leaves no one would dream that the camp had come near destruction.
But all the inmates of Kamp Kill Kare slept, so to speak, "with one eye open" during the balance of that night.
There was no further alarm.
By the time breakfast had been disposed of they could look the matter calmly in the face, and it no longer appeared in such a terrible aspect as when they were scampering around in their pajamas fighting the flames and smoke.
The sun seemed unusually warm this morning, so Will declared that he meant to tramp over to the lake and try a little fishing, since they would have small opportunity to do any of this when the cold winds came again.
"I'm on too," remarked Bluff, moodily; "a fellow without a gun is like a fifth wheel to a wagon, useless in camp. Let's make up some lunch, for it's a long tramp, and we won't come home until late."
Jerry announced that he wanted to go over and have a further talk with Jesse Wilcox; after which he might take a tramp in a new region advised by the old trapper as opening a possible chance for big game—perhaps a deer.
Frank declared he would stick to the camp; with such vicious characters around, he secretly thought it hardly safe for all of them to go away, leaving old Toby as the sole guardian. They had too much at stake, since their pleasure would be destroyed if the camp were raided successfully.
Reaching the lake Will spent much of his time taking views, while Bluff set to work trying to entice the finny denizens of the water to bite his lures.
As time went on he was fairly successful, and when they ate their lunch he had quite a fair string of fish as the reward of his diligence.
Will proved to be a poor fisherman after all, especially when he had his adored camera along, for he presently wandered off again.
"Don't go too far," warned Bluff, as he sat on the end of a log that jutted out over the water a yard or more.
Engrossed with his sport, Bluff hardly noticed how time passed. Hearing a step back of him, he called out:
"I got three more; what luck did you have, Will?"
He heard what sounded like a chuckling laugh back of him; and before he could turn some one gave him a strong push. Bluff went over with a splash into the lake.
Bluff came up spluttering.
"Help! help!" he shouted, involuntarily, as well as a mouth half full of water would permit.
But there was no one in sight. Whoever had shoved him into the lake had mysteriously vanished, though a movement in the bushes told the direction of his flight.
Recovering from the shock, Bluff found that he could clamber out without much difficulty, and he hastened to do so.
His cries had been heard, however, for presently the sound of some one running wildly came to his ears, and Will burst into view.
At sight of the dripping fisherman he broke into a shout.
"Caught a Tartar, did you, and he pulled you in? Oh! what wouldn't I have just given to have been here? A snapshot of you going over would have been the finest ever."
"Shut up! It wasn't a fish at all that yanked me overboard. Somebody gave me a shove!" snapped Bluff, beginning to shiver, in spite of the fact that the air seemed unusually warm, though the sun had disappeared behind dark clouds.
"What! you were pushed in?" stammered Will; and he gathered up his camera in his arms, casting a look of alarm around, as if afraid lest some hideous form dart into view, bent on snatching it away.
"That's the truth. I was just sitting here when I heard a step. Thought it was you, and asked how you had got on. Then the beggar laughed, gave me a shove, and over I went, 'ker chunk.' I let out a yell when I came up, for you see I didn't exactly know what he might mean to do," explained the dripping one.
"And I don't blame you a bit. But didn't you see him at all?"
"Never had a peep. He dodged back so that when I got the water out of my eyes he was gone. I saw those bushes over there moving, and knew he ran off that way."
Will walked over to the bushes, looking cautiously about, but seeing no one.
"Sure you didn't—er—go to sleep out on that log, and dream somebody gave you a push?" he queried, cautiously.
"Rats! I guess I ought to know. But see here, perhaps you can prove it," declared Bluff, indignantly.
"How?" demanded the other.
"Look down at your feet and see if he left any trail, that's how."
Will immediately did as he was told.
"Say, come here. There are tracks all right. Perhaps you're better up in that sort of thing than I am. It was a human being after all, and no dream," he called.
Bluff hastened to join him.
"Why, of course, just as I said. This is where he hurried away. You can see the mark of his feet easy. And looky there, one shoe, the right, has got a patch on it, a piece that runs to a point. Oh! I'd know that skunk any time from that. It's a sure clue, I tell you," he exclaimed.
"But you'd better get dried off as soon as you can. Why, you're shivering now."
"Got any matches; mine are all soaked?" said Bluff, his teeth rattling together.
"I always carry a few. Yes, here they are. Let me make a quick fire, while you jump around to warm up; and Bluff,pleasekeep your eye on my camera, won't you?"
"Sure," replied the other, commencing to leap and frisk around, so as to get his chilled blood in circulation again.
The fire was speedily made, and, taking off his clothes, Bluff hugged close to the blaze while Will busied himself in hanging up the wet garments, though he had more or less difficulty in tearing his eyes away from the spot where his camera lay close by.
"Sometimes we get too much fire; then again we want more and more," remarked Bluff, as he kept turning around like a roast on the spit; for as fast as one side felt warm the other grew chilled.
"And I guess that we'd better be beating it back to camp as soon as your duds are decently dry. I don't like the looks of that sky," remarked Will.
"I think you are right. There's certainly a big storm coming. Why, the air seems dead, just like it is in summer before a gale of wind. And camp is nearly two miles away from this place. Don't you think I could put them on now, Will?"
"They feel pretty dry. Do as you please," said the other, not willing to commit himself, though anxious to be off, for the black looks of the heavens began to appall him not a little.
"Then here goes!"
Suiting the action to the words Bluff hurriedly dressed. Then he secured his nice string of fish, and, with his pole over his shoulder, announced himself ready for the homeward tramp.
They made all reasonable haste, and managed to reach the camp in due time.
When Frank heard what had happened he was very angry.
"Some more of the mean work of that crowd. I believe it must have been Andy himself who pushed you in. A dirty trick. How did he know whether you could swim or not?" he said, after the tale was told.
"Oh, well, it wasn't a case of swimming, for the water wasn't five feet deep, and all I had to do was to crawl out again. But it was wet, you see, and a fellow feels mighty uncomfortable all soaked. Just wait, I'll get even with him some day for that trick. I've got the rascal located all right. One of his shoes had a patch on the sole I'd know again."
"A clever idea," admitted the other, in admiration; "and I hope you find him out, no matter who he may be. First they stone our camp; after that they try to burn us out; and now some busybody throws you into the lake. What next, I wonder?"
"You forget the worst thing of all—the stealing of my gun!" grumbled Bluff.
"Well, I wish Jerry was back. I hate to think of him wandering around in the woods in the storm that's coming, for it's going to be a corker," remarked Frank, eying the darkening sky with uneasiness.
"Perhaps the old trapper influenced him to stay over with him till to-morrow?" suggested Will, who was making his beloved camera secure against rain by wrapping it in folds of waterproof material brought along for the purpose.
"A bright idea; and I hope it's so. But you know, he said he meant to take in a new locality for a hunt after seeing Jesse. Well, Jerry is up to many things connected with woods life, and at any rate he knows how to look out for himself," and as he spoke Frank stooped down by the tent.
"What are you doing now?" asked the curious Bluff.
"Driving these tent pegs in deeper. There's no telling what sort of wind may be on us. Listen to that, will you?" said Frank.
"Thunder, as sure as you live! Pretty late in the year for that, ain't it?"
"Oh, we sometimes hear it even in winter. But, you see, the day has been unusually close and muggy. I felt a storm in the air this morning, and I'm not surprised. But I would be glad to see Jerry show up," continued the other, as he tapped each pin a few times, to send them in more securely.
The muttering in the distance increased constantly in volume.
Frank, as an old campaigner, knew what was to be done. Under his directions Toby and the two boys made everything as snug as could be expected. They also concealed some dry wood in the hollow of a tree nearby, so that later on they might be prepared for making a fire.
The storm came at last, with a furious wind, and a heavy downpour of rain.
"Wow!" exclaimed Bluff, as he looked out from the tent, "ain't I glad we got here before that came. One ducking satisfies me; I'm not greedy."
The afternoon waned, and night came on, still there were no signs of Jerry. Frank worried some, but stopped speaking of the matter, for he saw that old Toby was beginning to shake with fear, as the wind increased in fury, and the tents wobbled about at a great rate.
"I hope they hold out," said Frank to himself.
He even donned a waterproof he had brought along, and going outside, tapped the pegs all around again. Everything seemed secure so far as he could see. Still, he knew that if one peg gave, the balance could not resist the additional strain, and a catastrophe must result.
Old Toby was really too much alarmed to retire to his fly; so Frank told him he could remain with him when the other boys went to their tent.
None of them expected to obtain much sleep. The wind came in fierce gusts, the trees groaned and writhed, and once or twice Frank really heard a crash in the forest that told of a rent in the timber.
"I only hope nothing of that kind happens around here; a falling tree might pin us all under, and be our death," he said to himself.
At length they concluded that it was time to separate and try to get some sleep, though both Bluff and Will declared they knew they would not close their eyes so long as that howl kept up without, and the canvas fluttered with each wild gust.
Just as they were about to make a run for it, Frank caught them by the arms.
"Wait!" he shouted, for there was a terrible crash close by, and the earth seemed to tremble as a forest monarch was laid low.
At the same minute with a shriek the wind descended upon the tent under which they were crouching.
Frank heard a snap above the other sounds, and like a flash the entire tent was blown away, leaving the four campers exposed to the fury of the storm.
Jerry, that same morning, reached the camp of the old trapper without any trouble.
He did not find Jesse Wilcox at home; but, knowing something of the trapper's habits, he made himself comfortable, and waited.
After a time the other showed up. He carried a tidy bunch of fur along with him, having stopped to remove the pelts on the way.
"Glad to see ye, Jerry. Looky here, one fine fox, and, would ye believe it, actually a mink, boy! That ere pelt orter bring me a twenty, all right. That's why I'm so tickled, ye see. This shore must be one o' my lucky days. Make yerself to hum. Come to take a snack o' dinner along with me, I reckons, eh?"
"Well, I might wait up and have a bite if you don't keep me too long. You see I mean to make a roundabout trip into that stretch of woods you told us about I'd like the worst kind to get a crack at a deer. That would be worth while, Jesse."
"Then I'll get busy right away. But p'raps ye'd better defer that ere trip fur a day or so, lad," remarked the trapper, sweeping an eye upward.
"Why?" asked the boy.
"Thar's some sorter storm broodin', er I'm bad deceived. In course at this season we don't expect much along that line; but I hev seen a scorcher come along, even in October. Ten year ago it was, and thar was quite some timber leveled, I'm tellin' ye."
But Jerry was built along a stubborn line: Having once made up his mind to do a thing it was very hard for him to break away.
"Oh! I don't bother about a little blow. If it comes to the worst I can find a hollow tree, and keep pretty dry. Now, I want to see just how you cook that stew, so I can do it sometime."
The dinner was a success, and, of course, Jerry, being hungry, heartily enjoyed it. When the meal was finished he arose, and picked up his gun.
"Still of a mind to take that long tramp, air ye?" asked the trapper.
"Why, certainly. I haven't even thought of changing my mind," returned the boy.
"Well, I s'pose ye must, then. Only keep yer eye peeled for trouble up yonder. It's sure goin' to storm; for I feels it in my bones. Besides, thar's a pack o' measly wild dogs loose in that stretch o' timber."
"Wild dogs?" repeated Jerry, opening his eyes wider.
"Sartin; dogs as has strayed away from ther homes, an' took back to a wild state. It happens that ways sometimes. Ther call o' the wild, they name it. Sumpin' seems to pull the critters back, an' they break away from human kind to roam the woods an' hunt ther livin'. I seen the pack once or twice, an' I kinder believe ther a-gettin' more fiercer all the while."
"Wild dogs, eh? How many about are there, Jesse?" asked Jerry, fingering his shotgun a little nervously.
"From three to five ginerally. Ye see they comes an' goes, so ther ain't no tellin' jest how big the pack kin be. But ef so be they tackles ye, son, jest shin up a tree, an' then pick 'em off. That's my ijee," remarked the trapper.
Shaking hands, after getting further directions, Jerry hastened away.
It was not long before he found himself in the densest kind of timber. In fact, he had not seen anything like it since coming to the hemlock camp.
Here and there were little openings, in some of which green grass grew. It was here the trapper had told him he might possibly find a deer feeding; and as he made his way along, Jerry kept on the lookout for signs.
He had been walking much over an hour when he thought he caught a glimpse of a deer ahead; there was something moving there, at least, and with his pulses quickened the boy began to slowly and cautiously advance.
Yes, it was a deer, and feeding, too!
The light was none too good under the trees, with that dark threatening sky over all; but Jerry had keen eyes and he was just now excited at the prospect of at least getting a shot.
He kept on advancing, taking advantage of every bit of cover that offered. To his delight the animal did not seem to pay any attention to him, though raising its head several times to sniff the air suspiciously.
By this time, he had gained a position where he believed he could make the buckshot in his gun tell, and with as steady a hand as he could bring to bear, Jerry took aim at the exposed side of the deer.
When he fired the animal fell in its tracks, and, giving a shout, the exultant young hunter was about rushing forward to secure his quarry when suddenly his horrified eyes discovered moving figures rushing through the undergrowth, and heading toward the spot where the deer lay, still struggling feebly.
Instantly he remembered what the trapper had said. These then were the wild dogs. Evidently they were hungry, and at the time he shot had been trying to creep up on the animal which they yearned to make a meal from.
Jerry mechanically threw out the empty shell, and pushed another into the chamber of his gun. He saw the pack bolt forward, heard the wild clamor that marked their advance, and then caught the exultant strain in their noisy yelpings, as they pounced upon the slain deer.
The boy felt more indignant than alarmed. That washisdeer, for he had done the stalking up against the wind; nor was he at all disposed to allow those greedy curs a chance to tear the quarry to pieces in their savage way.
Jerry immediately hurried forward, ready to dispute the possession of the game.
He found the whole pack furiously tearing at the fallen deer, growling, and exhibiting all the savage nature of wolves.
When the boy shouted they looked up, drew back their lips and looked furious; but not one gave a sign of obeying him.
"Get out, you brutes! Leave that carcass alone, will you?" he yelled, waving his gun threateningly.
As if they realized that this human creature meant to dispute their right to the royal dinner they had found, the four wild dogs started toward him. They presented a terrible appearance just then, with the blood about their muzzles, and white fangs exposed.
Perhaps Jerry may have felt a shiver pass over him, but that did not prevent him from raising his gun and deliberately covering the foremost of the brutes.
Bang! went the gun. Then arose a tremendous howling, together with furious snapping sounds. The balance of the pack continued to rush forward more rapidly than before, leaving the stricken member to roll on the ground.
Jerry thought it high time he made an ascension, after the manner of that which had marked the alarm of old Toby at the time the wildcat invaded the camp. But he wanted to use that other barrel the worst way.
Quickly covering the pack he pulled the trigger. Then, without waiting to ascertain what the results might be, he started to climb.
This was no easy task, especially when encumbered with a gun, for he would not think of letting this precious ally go; but there was enough inspiration in the approaching yelps and growls of the wild dogs to spur him on to heroic efforts, and, as a consequence, he managed to get beyond their reach.
It was an old tree in which he happened to have sought refuge. Just then, however, Jerry was not caring about that, for it was a case of any port in a storm; and as he said, "beggars should not be choosers."
Quite out of breath, he clung to the rotten limb and proceeded to shout at the dogs so as to keep them there until he could find a chance to insert fresh charges in his gun, when he expected to take care of them.
"Hey, you with the collar, ain't you ashamed of yourself to take to such a pirate life, when you once had a good home, I bet? Say, ain't he a jim-dandy of a big bouncer, though, and as strong as an ox? I'd just hate to fall into his maw. Now, hang around a few seconds more, and I've got a nice surprise for you. If you ever knew what a gun is, I guess you've forgotten by now."
In this strain he talked to them, and kept both dogs jumping up at him in the endeavor to get a grip. Sometimes they brushed his dangling foot with their jaws, and at that Jerry involuntarily drew up a little.
When he had inserted the shells, he tried to get a chance to cover the big dog. That animal, though, apparently suspected his purpose, and kept jumping about so wildly that it seemed impossible to aim at him. The second brute had been wounded so seriously that it had crawled away, so there were now but two left.
Finally, seeing a good chance to knock over the smaller one of the pair,Jerry could not resist the temptation.
The animal may once have been a family pet, but a wild existence of some months, perhaps years, had taken him back to the wild state from which his ancestors had come ages ago. He was a mangy-looking, dirty white brute, with eyes that seemed red to the boy in the tree.
At the report of the gun the animal fell over in a kicking heap, for the distance was so very short that the charge of shot had gone with all the destructive power of a "forty-four" bullet.
But something not down on the programme immediately followed. The rotten limb upon which Jerry was hanging, unable to stand the strain of his weight and movements, gave way with a crash.
He felt a thrill of horror as he found himself being precipitated downward, knowing as he did that the largest and fiercest of the wild pack was still there, unhurt save in the way of a few stray shot that had flecked his tawny hide with tiny blood spots!
Jerry landed with a crash that almost shook the breath from his body.
Realizing the need of haste in getting upon his feet, he scrambled erect. He had maintained that frenzied clutch upon his gun, as if believing that it was his best and only friend in this emergency.
One thing helped him. The big yellow hound had been startled, first by the crash of the gun so close to his head, and then again by the rapid downward plunge of the human figure.
Perhaps some dim recollection of former beatings at the hands of some severe master may also have temporarily demoralized the brute.
At any rate Jerry was given just about five seconds to turn the corner, and thus place the tree between himself and his enemy.
Then the dog bounded forward, and a warm chase began around that same tree, with Jerry doing his prettiest to keep beyond reach of those gleaming fangs that pressed closely in his rear.
In this he managed fairly well, but after he had pranced around that tree quite a dozen times he made the alarming discovery that he was rapidly being winded. His canine adversary, on the other hand, appeared to be as fresh as ever.
Unless something occurred to assist him, it began to look very much as though he might trip after growing dizzy, and the big yellow brute pounce upon him.
Then a sudden thought came into his mind. It was like an inspiration, and made Jerry laugh right out. Why, of course his gun, what was he gripping it all this time so desperately for if not because he believed it worth while.
He tried to remember whether he had fired one shot or two after reloading it. So confused had he become with all this turning round and round that he could not be absolutely sure. But there was nothing for him to do but take chances.
He felt to see if one of the hammers might be up, and found the left one drawn back. That seemed promising, for if he had fired both barrels the hammers must naturally be down.
It might be only imagination, but he believed he could actually feel the hot breath of the pursuing beast on his legs as he twisted around that tree so awkwardly. With a prayer in his heart, though his lips were mute, he suddenly whirled, thrust out the gun, and pulled the trigger.
Fortune was certainly with him that day. The dog viciously seized hold of the gun barrel in his teeth; and it was just at this instant that Jerry pressed the trigger.
He saw the big beast swirl half-way around. Then he fell in a quivering heap.
"Hurrah!"
It was but a pitiful shout poor Jerry gave, for he was quite out of breath. He, too, fell down in a heap close to the yellow form of his enemy; but instinctively his hands worked, trying to place his faithful gun in readiness for further work.
It was not needed.
Besides the big yellow leader of the wild pack, he presently found a second brute stone dead; and had the pleasure of dispatching both the others shortly after.
"Might as well make a clean sweep of it," he said, with a feeling of having accomplished something worth while; for Jesse had told him these roving dogs were just as destructive to sheep and other domestic animals as so many timber wolves would have been.
Perhaps the farmers of the community might feel like voting Jerry thanks for his good service of that day. And not knowing whether he could find the place again he proceeded to cut off the four caudal appendages, "to embellish his tale," as Frank later on declared with a laugh.
"Guess I've had quite enough sport for to-day," Jerry remarked, as he bent over the mutilated deer; "there's quite as much meat here as I can carry home. In fact, I've a good mind to hang most of it up out of reach of wild animals. We could come for it another time. From the looks of the sky that storm Jesse spoke about must be coming right along."
So he determined to make haste. While something of a novice at the art of cutting up a deer, he had a general inkling as to how it should be done. Accordingly, after half an hour's work he managed to swing the better part of the meat, fastened up in the skin, to a limb that he made sure was sound.
"Now for home with my trophies. Say, perhaps the boys won't open their eyes when I show these four tails, and get Toby to cook some ofmyvenison! This has been a red letter day in my calendar. What was that—thunder, I do believe. Perhaps—"
Jerry did not even wait to finish his sentence, but started off on a lope.
But the gloom under the heavy timber increased. He found difficulty in telling the points of the compass. And finally it became absolutely impossible for him to make more than a half-way decent guess as to the quarter where the camp in all probability lay.
"I suppose I'm just about lost," he at length reluctantly admitted.
Still, Jerry was not one to be easily daunted. He had been in situations before now that called for a show of manliness and courage, and rather prided himself on being equal to any such occasion.
The thunder was booming heavily, and the rain ready to descend. He believed he could hear a distant roaring. It might be wind tearing through the forest, or a heavy fall of rain, perhaps both. At any rate it would mark the breaking of the storm.
"Better be finding that hollow tree I spoke to Jesse about," he concluded.
Once again luck favored the lad. Not thirty paces away he discovered what seemed to be a big stump, about twelve feet or more in height. It had an opening at the bottom, large enough for him to crawl through; indeed, to his mind, it was there especially for the very use he intended to put it.
Running forward just as the rain began to rattle down all around him, Jerry proceeded to crawl through the aperture. He found the interior amply large enough to give him the needed shelter. What was better, the opening happened to be on the leeward side, so that the driving rain could not find entrance.
"This is what I call a bully fit. Talk to me about your cyclone cellars, what could beat such a cozy den as this? I'm as snug as a bug in a rug. Four wild dogs and my first deer, all in one day. I guess that's my top-notch record, all right. Let her storm all she wants, so long as the lightning doesn't take a notion to strike this blessed old stump," he was saying as he mentally shook hands with himself over the day's achievements.
After a long time, hours it seemed to Jerry, during a temporary lull in the howling of the gale, he ventured to peep forth.
Everything was pitch black around, save when the lightning zigzagged through space, and lighted up all creation with its electric torch.
"Looks like an all-night stand for Jerry. There comes that wind tearing things loose again. Wow! it was a big tree went down that time! Hope none of them take a notion to knock my poor old stump flat, or I'd be squashed into a pancake."
Like many other people, Jerry had a habit of talking to himself under stress of excitement Perhaps he believed that in this way he bolstered up his courage, just as some men whistle when they find themselves trembling in the face of some uncanny peril.
And there he crouched while the gale blew with renewed violence, and the night wore slowly on. Several times there came a lull, and he began to hope the worst had passed; when once again the wind would swoop down, as though loth to give up its riotous dominion over the stricken forest.
Never had such a storm been heard of in October; even the first gale, which had demolished the roof of the Academy, and brought about this two weeks' vacation for the boys, had not equaled this, coming from another quarter as it did.
Jerry had one bad scare.
He had blocked up the entrance as best he could with what stray bits of wood he found around. Suddenly he felt his barrier moving, and realized that some wild animal was nosing around, trying to force an entrance for shelter.
It must, after all, be the lair of a bear which he had found. Was this most remarkable day in all his experience to be wound up with an encounter that might dwarf the other into insignificance?
Jerry gave a shout. At the same time he seized upon his gun, and fired one barrel squarely through the opening. He thought he heard a loud "woof," but after that there was no further molestation.
But, nevertheless, he lay there wide-awake, and on his guard. Should Mr. Bear pluck up courage enough to return, he meant to be ready to give him a warm reception.
Time passed, and he believed the storm was really diminishing in fury. It was certainly time, for from the various crashes Jerry believed considerable timber must have gone to the ground.
How thankful he should be to have escaped as well as he had. Why, the mere fact that he was lost did not cut any figure in the matter when so many more terrible things might have happened to him.
There was really no sense of him leaving his snug retreat until dawn came, for he could not make his way in the storm-wrecked timber with any hope of success.
Again he poked his way out to take an observation. Perhaps he was wondering if his shot could have killed the bear; but no sign of such met his strained eyesight when the next flash of lightning came.
But while he was thus trying to pierce the gloom around him, he heard a sound that thrilled him through and through—the sound of a human voice calling.
"Help, oh! help!" it came wailing through the night.
"What's that?" exclaimed Jerry, startled by the cry.
It came again.
"Help! Oh! help, somebody!"
The boy was now convinced that he had not heard the hoot of an owl, and that some one was certainly in need of succor.
He remembered the crash of the trees that had gone down in the tempest. Could it be possible that the unfortunate one had been caught under one of these falling forest monarchs, and pinned to the ground?
If so, no wonder that he cried at the top of his voice for assistance. Unable to escape he must starve to death, or become the prey of wild beasts unless help came.
Jerry immediately crawled out of his hole. He no longer remembered the fact that a bear had recently been sniffing at the entrance to the hollow tree. All he had in mind was that he might be of assistance to a fellow human being in distress.
It was pitch dark in the woods, though now and then a flash of distant lightning came to momentarily relieve the gloom.
Jerry started in the direction he believed the sounds came from. Now and then he paused to listen, and in this way managed to keep going straight.
"Hello! where are you?" he cried, finally, as a dreadful silence fell upon the forest ahead, a silence that made him very anxious indeed.
Immediately a voice called out wildly:
"Oh, here I am, under this fallen tree! Please come and help me! I can't hardly move, and I think my arm is broken. Don't leave me to die!"
"It's all right. Don't worry, for I'm not going to run away. Speak again so I can get to you. It's awful dark under here."
The other took him at his word, and commenced to rattle on, saying all manner of things, simply to direct his rescuer to the spot.
"It's Andy Lasher, as sure as I live," said Jerry to himself, as he recognized the other's voice, despite the agony in it.
So making his way forward he finally came to the tree under which the other was pinioned by some of the branches.
"I can't see you, it's so dark here. Wait!" he said aloud.
"Oh! please don't leave me now; I'll go out of my mind, sure!"
"I don't mean to; but I must have some light. Now, I happen to have the stub of a candle in my pocket, and the wind has died out, so I think it will burn if I stick it down low. I'll get you out somehow, Andy," said Jerry, cheerily.
He struck a match.
"Why, is it you, Jerry?"
"Sure thing. See there, that burns all right, I guess. Now, I'll put it here in the shelter of this stump, while I look into things."
"You won't leave me here, Jerry? You ain't that kind of a feller, I know?"
Andy was evidently alarmed. He could not but remember that there had been bad blood between this lad and himself for a long time. Indeed, some recent events that were not at all to his credit, must have cropped up to make him anxious.
"Not much. Say, you just had the escape of your life, I tell you. This heavy limb almost hit you in falling. If it had, then it would have been one, two three for you. You seem to be held down mostly by small branches," observed Jerry, after he had made a critical examination.
"Do you think you can get me out, Jerry?" asked the other, very humbly.
"Easy. Just you wait, and when I tell you what to do, go ahead."
With that he started operations. By breaking off the smaller branches one at a time, he gradually weakened the network that was binding the prisoner. Every obstacle, however small, that was removed, made things easier. And finally Jerry gave a pull at the imprisoned boy.
Andy let out a howl of pain, but all the same he came free.
"My arm!"
"I'm going to look at that now, right away. If it is broken the sooner you get back to Centerville and see a doctor the better; but, somehow, I've got a notion it's only badly bruised. Here, bend it back, so I can slip it out of the sleeve."
With much misgiving and many exclamations of agony, Andy did as he was told. The other then examined it from one end to the other.
"Talk to me about luck, you've got cause to be mighty thankful, Andy.There are a lot of bruises here, but no bones broken," declared Jerry.
"Sure you ain't mistaken, Jerry—'cause it's awful sore?" groaned the other, and yet there was a trace of gratitude in his voice.
"Make up your mind it's so. Now, the question is what are we going to do the rest of the night? I was in a hollow tree, but there isn't room for two. Might manage to make a fire somehow, and stand it out. Think you can walk now, Andy?"
Jerry unconsciously thrust a supporting arm around the waist of the other, and steadied his steps as they moved slowly off. In so doing he was heaping coals of fire upon the head of his adversary. Andy grunted now and then as some jolt gave him new pain; but on the whole he was very quiet. Perhaps his mind was busy and his conscience working overtime.
So they reached the hollow stump.
"Here's where I was camped all through the storm, and mighty lucky for you that I lost my way when out hunting. Now wait till I dig out some of that dry wood from the inside. It will make a capital start for a fire."
Jerry set to work with a vim. In five minutes he had a cheery little blaze going, and more wood drying out close beside it. From time to time other fuel was added to the fire until it reached such proportions that it eagerly devoured any sort of stuff they chose to feed it.
"This ain't half bad, because it's getting mighty cold after that storm, and if you happened to be lying drenched through under that tree I reckon you'd be shivering some by now, eh?" laughed Jerry.
Andy put out his right hand, for it was the left arm that had been injured.
"I want to tell you that I feel pretty punk now over the way I've treated your crowd, Jerry. This is mighty white in you, and that's what, to act as you have with me. I'm right sorry now I ever laid out to hurt you fellers. I ain't goin' to keep it up no longer, and that's dead certain. If Pet Peters wants to, he can go it alone. I'm all in. You've made me ashamed."
Jerry understood. There was really no need of further words. Between two boys such things are instinctively grasped; and Jerry knew what a tremendous effort it must have been for this rough fellow to frankly admit that he had been led to see the error of his ways.
Perhaps the repentance was not wholly genuine, and time would swing Andy back to his old ways; but just then, sitting by that friendly fire, he seemed to feel very warmly disposed toward the lad whose coming may have saved his life.
"Oh! that's all right; don't mention it. Glad to know you mean to let us alone. It's all we ask, anyway. But what brought you away up here, Andy?" said Jerry.
Andy dropped his head and gazed into the fire. The other even thought he could see what looked like a blush mantle his cheeks, though the chums of the town bully would have shouted at the very idea of such a thing.
"I reckon it was some more rotten business, Jerry. To tell the truth I was up to see old Bud Rabig, trying to get him to join us in a raid on your camp. You see," the boy went on hurriedly, as though fearful lest his courage might fail him before he got the whole thing off his mind, "we'd tried to smoke you out and made a botch of the trick; and I even pushed Bluff over into the lake this afternoon, to get him a duckin', 'cause the temptation was too great But it's all up with me now. After this I ain't goin' to lift a hand against any of your crowd."
"Did you get lost, too, trying to make your way back to your camp?" asked Jerry.
"That's just what I did. Thought I could save time by taking a short-cut through the big woods. Then the storm came down on me, and I reckon I got some rattled. I lost my head, and while I thrashed around, that pesky old tree came down on me. Thought I was a-goner, I give you my word," and Andy shuddered.
"How long did you lie there?" questioned the other.
"Hours and hours, it seemed to me. I'd shout when I could, but something seemed to tell me it wasn't no good—that I just deserved to die right there, because I'd never been no good to my folks at home or anybody else. But you just wait and see. I got a light, I did. Thought I was sure goin' to die."
Both boys were soon sleepy, for the heat of the fire affected their eyes. So Jerry fixed things to keep the blaze going while they napped, rolling a log over so that it offered a good chance for the fire to feed.
In this way they passed the balance of the night, nor would either of them soon forget the experience, though from different reasons.
In the morning they managed to cook some of the fresh venison Jerry carried, and for which the other seemed very grateful. Then they figured out their position, which was not hard to do, since the sky was clear and the sun well up.
Half an hour later Andy recognized certain landmarks that told him he could make a turn and reach his camp by the lake shore.
"Good-by, Jerry. I'm going to skip out here. And I ain't forgettin' this either," he said, thrusting out a hand, while a queer grin crept over his face.
Jerry hurried on, anxious to relieve the suspense of his chums.
As he came in sight of the camp he paused and stared, as well he might, for it seemed to be occupied by a stranger, and he a man with the wild aspect of a madman.
"Whoop! All hands on deck to pump ship!"
"My camera! Oh! where did I put it?"
"Grab up the bedding and hustle in under the other tent, boys!"
This last from steady, clear-headed Frank, who seemed to know just what should be done in an emergency.
It started Bluff and Uncle Toby working strenuously to keep blankets from getting very wet. But Will could not think of lending a hand until he had first of all lugged his beloved camera under shelter.
It was indeed fortunate that both tents had not gone by the board at the same time, or the camp must have been plunged into the deepest distress. Led by Frank, they managed to hustle their belongings under the second cover, where the driving rain could not reach them.
By the time all had been done the boys were dripping, and it took them some twenty minutes to get warm again, snuggled in their blankets.
"Oh! what a night!" wailed Will a dozen times.
"Please let up on that, or give us a change in tune. It's bad enough to have to stand the storm without listening to a phonograph," grunted Bluff.
The hours crept along. Now and then they dozed, but sound slumber did not come to a single one of the group. Uncle Toby was quite content to cower as close to Frank as possible, satisfied that the other was able to protect him. He seemed to exhibit the blind confidence of a dog in an emergency calling for energy; to him Frank was a type of manliness hard to match.
"Will the morning ever come?" groaned Will, as he shifted his cramped position for the tenth time at least.
"Well, I think we've got a lot to be thankful for," declared Frank, stoutly; "in the first place, no great damage is done, for I saw that our tent was caught in the branches of a tree close by, and we can rescue it in the morning. Then nothing was spoiled that I know of. And the storm is really over, though morning is some two hours off," striking a match and looking at his nickel watch.
"Can't we have a fire?" asked Will, who was shivering under his blanket.
"Just thinking so myself. It's getting sharp, now that the wind has shifted into the northwest. Suppose we make a try," answered Frank, readily.
It was just in anticipation of such an emergency that he had hidden some of the dry wood away where the rain could not reach it. Frank's previous experience in woodcraft had taught him many valuable things.
Securing some of this, he quickly had a little blaze. The others fed this in a cautious manner, so as not to smother it by too much fuel. As a result the fire was in a short time burning freely, and diffusing a genial warmth around that proved very acceptable to the chilled campers.
Even Will thawed out under its influence and ceased to grumble.
"It's all right, too, fellows; not a drop got in tinder these waterproofs," he declared, as he eagerly examined his precious possession.
So the morning found them.
The first thing they did was to rescue the runaway canvas. It was found to be intact, the pins only having given under the strain. So shortly afterwards the second tent again arose, and things began to look shipshape around the camp.
"Seems like an Irish wash-day," remarked Will, as he surveyed the various blankets and other things spread out on bushes to dry in the sunshine and air.
"Only for Jerry's strange absence, I'd feel bully," remarked Frank.
"Don't you think we'd better start out and look for him?" asked Will.
"Yes, after we've had some breakfast. I never like to attempt anything on an empty stomach. And, besides, you see, we may have to go all the way over to Jesse's shack before we learn about him," observed Frank.
"Do you really think he's stayed there?" questioned Bluff, anxiously; for even though he and Jerry seemed to be constantly bickering, deep down in their hearts they had a genuine affection for each other, as had been proven more than once.
"I hope so," was all the other would say.
"And I've got a dreadful fear," remarked Will, sighing, "that the poor fellow's been caught under a falling tree. So many went down last night. I'll hear that terrible crashing every time I wake up for a long time to come. It haunts me, just because I imagined Jerry out in it all."
Toby here banged the big spoon on the empty frying pan. That was a welcome sound to a set of ravenous boys, and they quickly assembled around the rude table upon which the blackchefwas placing heaps of flapjacks, flanked by steaming cups of fragrant coffee.
Uncle Toby did not seem to relish being left alone in the camp again; but there was nothing else to be done. Frank gave him some advice as to what he should do if any wild beast invaded the place; and also how he could threaten any of Andy's crowd should they show up with hostile intent.
Then the three boys started off, meaning to head in a direct line for the distant camp of the old trapper.
"What if we don't find him there?" asked the skeptical Will.
"Wait till we get to the river before trying to cross. I reckon we'll be apt to find some traces of him there. And even if he was caught out in the woods in that storm, that's no sign he was hurt or killed. Jerry knows enough to get in out of the wet; and depend on it he found shelter somehow, somewhere."
So Frank buoyed their spirits up in his accustomed cheery way. One could easily see that he belonged to the optimist family, and never looked on the gloomy side of things.
They had not gone half a mile away from the camp before they discovered some one moving through the bushes ahead.
"There he is!" exclaimed Bluff, eagerly, as he raised his hand to his mouth, as if about to give a "cooie."
"Hold on! I don't believe it is. There, you see, it's a man, and a hunter, too, I expect, for he's carrying a gun," interrupted Frank.
"Perhaps he may have seen Jerry. Shall we ask him?" demanded Will.
"If we keep on straight we're going to meet him, and, of course, we'll ask. I only hope he has, though I doubt it. Do either of you know him?"
Frank asked this because he was comparatively a newcomer in Centerville, while the other boys had been raised there.
"Seems to me I've seen him before," exclaimed Bluff. "Why, yes, it's Mr. Smithson. He lives in Centerville—that is, his family does, because he isn't home much. You see he's one of the wardens over at the State insane asylum at Merrick."
"What?" cried Frank, startled; "then perhaps he may not be hunting wild animals after all. Suppose one of the mad inmates of that institution escaped, and is up here roaming through the woods?"
"Jewhittaker!" exclaimed Will, turning a trifle pale, and hugging his camera closer to his breast, as though his first fear concerned its safety.
"If that's so, I hope Jerry didn't run across him, that's all," remarked Bluff.
"Come on, hurry. You've given me a little shock now, and we must learn the truth immediately. Call out to him, Bluff—there, he sees us, and is coming this way."
As Frank said, the keeper was hurrying toward them now, an anxious look on his face. He nodded to Bluff as he came up.
"Camping up here, are you, boys? That's fine. Used to like to do it myself when I was younger. Say, you didn't happen to see anything of a wild-looking chap anywhere around, did you?" he asked, glancing at each in turn.
"Sorry to say we haven't, Mr. Smithson. Has one of your charges got away?"
"That's just what has happened, and I've been chasing him all over the country. Got track of him yesterday just before the beastly old storm hit me. He's somewhere around this section right now. Where's your camp, boys? He'll be pretty sharp set with hunger by now, and can scent grub a long ways off?" continued the keeper.
The three lads looked at each other.
"What shall we do, fellows? Doesn't seem just right to be chasing off this way in a bunch, and leaving that poor old innocent alone in camp. What if this crazy man drops in on Toby while we're gone? Had we better turn back, and later on, if Jerry doesn't show up, organize another expedition, dividing our forces?"
Frank always put things so clearly that he seldom met with any opposition.
"That strikes me as sensible," observed Will, quickly.
"Turn back it is, then. Will you go with us, Mr. Smithson? We can give you a good cup of hot coffee, and some breakfast, if you're hungry?" said Bluff.
"I accept your offer, boys, and glad to meet you. Now, lead the way, please, because somehow, I seem to feel it in my bones that Bismarck will gravitate toward some place where there is an odor of cookery in the air. He always was a good feeder."
"Bismarck?" ejaculated Frank.
"Why, you see, that's what he thinks, and he carries out the part to a dot. Wait till you run up against him, if luck turns that way," replied the other.
"He may have been injured in the storm?" suggested Will.
"Not he. Such a cunning fellow would know how to escape a wet back."
"Is he considered dangerous?" Bluff inquired, a little anxiously.
"Well, not particularly, although he can look mighty fierce, and would terrify a timid person, possibly."
"And I guess Uncle Toby fills that bill, all right," said Bluff; "but there's our camp through the trees, Mr. Smithson; and, as sure as you live, there's a stranger standing poking at the fire where our cook is bending down."
"Bismarck is making himself at home, all right," laughed the warden.