Three men sat in the back room of the road-house, talking in whispers, a much-stained table forming the nucleus of the group. Two of the men were of evil faces, one not so much, perhaps, as the other, while the third man’s countenance showed some little refinement, though it was overlaid with grossness, and the light in the eyes was baleful.
The men were the same three who foregathered as Tom Fairfield and his chums left the scene of the snowball accident, and it was the same day as that occurrence. It must not be supposed that the men had been there during all the time I have taken to describe the holiday scenes at Elmwood Hall.
But I left the three men there, plotting, and now it is time to return to them, since Tom and his chums are well on their way to the winter camps in the Adirondacks.
“Well, what do you think of that plan?” asked Professor Skeel, for he was one of the three men in the back room.
“It sounds all right,” half-growled, rather than spoke, the man called Murker.
“If it can be done,” added the other—Whalen.
“Why can’t it be done?” demanded the former instructor. “You did your part, didn’t you? You found out where they were going, and all that?”
“Oh, yes, I attended to that,” was the answer. “But I don’t want to get into trouble over this thing, and it sounds to me like trouble. It’s a serious business to take——”
“Never mind. You needn’t go into details,” said Professor Skeel, quickly, stopping his henchman with a warning look, as he glanced toward the door through which the landlord had made his egress.
“But I don’t want to be arrested on a charge of——” the other insisted.
“There’ll be no danger at all!” broke in the rascally teacher. “I’ll do the actual work myself. I’ll take all the blame. All I want is your help. I had to have someone get the information for me, and you did that very well, Whalen. No one else could have done it.”
“Yes, I guess I pumped him dry enough,” was the chuckling comment.
“It’s a pity you had to go and get yourself discharged, though,” went on Mr. Skeel. “You would be much more useful to me at ElmwoodHall than out of it. But it can’t be helped, I suppose.”
“I didn’t go andgetmyself discharged!” whined he who was called Whalen. “It was that whelp, Tom Fairfield, who was to blame.”
The man did not seem to count his own disgraceful conduct at all.
“Well, if Tom Fairfield was to blame, so much the better. We can kill two birds with one stone in his case,” chuckled the professor. “Now I think we understand each other. We needn’t meet again until we are up—well, we’ll say up North. That’s indefinite enough in case anyone hears us talking, and I don’t altogether like the looks of this landlord here.”
“No, he’s too nosey,” agreed Murker. “Well, if that’s settled, I guess we’re ready for the next move,” and he looked significantly at Mr. Skeel.
“Eh? What’s that?” came the query.
“We could use a little money,” suggested the evil-faced man.
“Money. Oh, yes. I did promise to bring you some. Well, here it is,” and the former instructor divided some bills between his followers and fellow plotters.
“Now I’ll leave here alone,” he went on. “I don’t want to be seen in your company outside.”
“Not good enough for you, I reckon,” sneered Whalen.
“Well, it might lead to—er—complications,” was the retort. “So give me half an hour’s start. I’m going to drive back where I hired this cutter, and then take a train. You follow me in two days and I rather guess Tom Fairfield will wish he’d kept his fingers out of my pie!” cried Mr. Skeel, with a burst of anger.
The three whispered together a few minutes longer, and then the former instructor came out of the road-house alone and drove off.
“What do you think of him?” asked Murker of Whalen.
“Not an awful lot,” was the answer. “But he’ll pay us well, and it will give me a chance to get square with that Fairfield pup. I owe him something.”
“Well, I don’t care anything about him, one way or the other,” was the rejoinder. “I went into this thing because you asked me to, and to make a bit of money. If I do that, I’m satisfied. Now let’s get cigars and slide out of here at once.”
And thus the plotters separated.
Meanwhile, Tom and his friends were a merry party. They talked, laughed and joked, now and then casting glances at their pile of baggage, which included gun cases and cameras. For they were to do both kinds of hunting in the mountain camps, and they were particularly interested incamera work, since they were taking up something of nature study in their school course.
The railroad trip was without incident of moment, if we except one little matter. It was when George Abbot mentioned casually the name of Whalen, one of the men employed at Elmwood Hall.
“I wonder why he left so suddenly?” George said, as they were speaking of some happening at school.
“I guess I was to blame for that,” Tom explained, as he related the incident of the cruel treatment on the part of Whalen.
“I thought he looked rather sour,” went on George.
“Why, were you talking to him lately?” asked Tom, a sudden look of interest on his face.
“Yes, the day before we left the Hall. He met me in town and borrowed a quarter from me. Said he wanted to send a telegram to friends who would give him work. Then he and I got talking, and I happened to mention that we fellows were going camping.”
“You did!” exclaimed Tom.
“This Whalen was quite interested,” resumed George. “He asked me a lot of questions about the location of the camps, and what route we were going to take.”
“Did you tell him?” demanded Tom.
“Why, yes, I told him some things. Any harm?”
“No, I don’t know that there was,” spoke Tom more slowly and thoughtfully. “But did Whalen say why he wanted to know all that?”
“No, not definitely. He did mention, though, that he might look for a job somewhere up North, and I suppose that was why he asked so many questions.”
“Maybe,” said Tom, in a low voice. Then he did some hard thinking.
In due time Hemlock Junction was reached. This was the end of the train journey, and the boys piled out with their baggage, their guns and cameras. It was cold and snowing.
“I guess that’s our man over there,” remarked Tom, indicating a person in a big overcoat with a fur cap and a red scarf around his neck. “Does he look as though his name was Sam Wilson?” asked our hero of his chums.
“Why Sam Wilson?” asked Jack.
“Because that’s the name of the man who was to meet us and drive us over to camp,” Tom said.
The man, with a smile illuminating his red face, approached.
“Looks to be plenty of room in the pung,” remarked Tom.
“What’s a pung?” asked George.
“That big sled, sort of two bobs made intoone, with only a single set of runners,” explained Tom, indicating the sled to which were hitched four horses, whose every movement jingled a chime of musical bells.
“Be you the Fairfield crowd?” asked the man.
“That’s us,” Tom said. “Are you Sam Wilson?”
“Yes.”
“Then, we are discovered, as the Indians said to Columbus,” Jack murmured, in a low voice.
“Pile in,” invited Sam Wilson, indicating the pung. “I’ll get your traps. Ain’t this fine weather, though?”
“It’s a bit cold,” Bert remarked.
“That’s what a party said that I drove over to your camp the other day,” spoke Sam. “He was from down Jersey way, too. You fellers must be sort of cold-blooded down thar! This chap complained of the cold. But pshaw! This is mild to what we have sometimes. Yes, this feller I drove over kept rubbin’ his ears all the while. One ear was terrible red, and it wasn’t all from the cold either. It had some sort of a scar on it, like it had been chawed by some wild critter. It sure was a funny ear!”
Tom looked at his chums with startled gaze. This was disquieting news indeed.
Seemingly by common consent on the part of Tom’s chums, it was left for him to further question Sam Wilson and learn more about the man the caretaker had driven over to the hunting camp. And Tom was not slow to follow up the matter. He had his own suspicions, but he wanted to verify them.
“You say you drove someone over to our camp yesterday?” Tom asked.
“Not yesterday, the day before,” was the answer. “And it wasn’t exactly to your camp, but near it. Your camp is a private one, you know—that is, it belongs to an association, and I understand you boys are to have full run of all three places.”
“Yes, the gentlemen who make up the organization very kindly gave us that privilege,” assented Tom.
“Then you’re the only ones allowed to use the camps,” went on Sam. “I’ll see to that, being the official keeper. I’m in charge the year around,and sometimes I am pretty hard put to keep people out that have no business in. So, naturally, I wouldn’t drive no stranger over to one ofmycamps—I call ’em mine,” he added with a smile, “but of course I’m only the keeper.”
“We understand,” spoke Tom, and his tone was grave.
“Well, then you understand I wouldn’t let anyone in at the camps unless they came introduced, same as you boys did.”
“Well, where did you drive this man then—this man with——” began George, but Jack silenced him with a look, nodding as much as to say that it was Tom’s privilege to do the questioning.
“I drove this man over to Hounson’s place,” resumed the camp-keeper, as he saw that all the baggage was piled in the pung. “This man Hounson keeps what he calls a hunters’ camp, but shucks! It’s nothing more than a sort of hotel in the woods. Some hunters do put up there, but none of the better sort.
“The gentlemen who own the three camps you’re going to tried to buy up Hounson’s place, as they didn’t like him and his crowd around here, but he wouldn’t sell. That’s where I took this Jersey man who complained of the cold. Kept rubbing his ears, and one of ’em was chawed, just as if some wild critter had him downand chawed him. ’Course I didn’t say anything about it, as I thought maybe it might be a tender subject with him. But I left him at Hounson’s.”
“Did he say what his name was?” asked Tom, but he only asked to gain time to think over what he had heard, for he was sure he knew who the man with the “chawed” ear was.
“No, he didn’t tell me his name, and I didn’t ask him,” Sam said. “Whoa there!” he called to his horses, for they showed an impatience to be off.
“Some folks are sort of delicate about giving out their names,” went on the guide when the steeds were quieted, “and as I’m a sort of public character, being the stage driver, when there’s one to drive, I didn’t feel like going into details. So I just asked him where he wanted to go, and he told me. Outside of that, and a little talk about the weather, him remarking that he come from Jersey, that’s all the talk we had.
“But maybe you boys know him,” he went on, as a thought came to him. “He was from Jersey, and so are you. Do you happen to know who he is?” he asked.
“We couldn’t say—for sure,” spoke Tom, which was true enough.
“Well, maybe you’ll get a chance to see him,” went on Sam Wilson. “Hounson’s isn’t far from your first camp, where we’re going to head for ina minute or so. You could go over there. You probably will have to, anyhow, if you want your mail, for the only postoffice for these parts is located there. And you’ll probably see your man.
“To tell you the truth, I didn’t take much of a notion to the feller. He was too sullen and glum-like to suit me. I like a man to take some interest in life.”
“Didn’t this man do that?” asked Tom, as he stowed his gun away on the straw-covered bottom of the pung.
“Not a cent’s worth!” cried Sam, who was hearty and bluff enough to suit anyone, and jolly in the bargain. “This chap sort of wrapped himself up in one of my fur robes, like one of them blanket Indians I read about out West, and he hardly spoke the whole trip. But you’ll probably see him over at Hounson’s. Well, are you boys all ready?”
“I guess so,” assented Bert, as he slung his camera over his shoulder by a strap. He hoped to get a chance at a snapshot.
“Well, then we’ll start,” went on Sam. “Pile in boys, and wrap them fur robes and blankets well around your legs. It’s colder riding than it is walking. So bundle up. It’ll be colder, too, when we get out of town a ways. We’re in sort of a holler here, and that cuts off the wind.”
“What about grub?” asked Jack. “Do weneed to take anything with us? I see a store over there,” and he indicated one near the small depot.
“Don’t need to buy a thing,” said Sam. “Every one of the three camps is well stocked. There’s bacon, ham, eggs, besides lots of canned stuff, and I make a trip in to town twice a week. As for fresh meat, why, you’ll probably shoot all that you want, I reckon,” and he seemed to take that as a matter of course.
“Say, look here!” exclaimed Tom, determined not to sail under false colors, nor have his companions in the same boat. “We aren’t regular hunters, you know. This is about the first time we ever came on a big hunting trip like this, and maybe——”
“Don’t say another word!” exclaimed Sam, good-naturedly. “I understand just how it is. I’m glad you owned up to it, though,” he went on, with a twinkle in his blue eyes. “Some fellers would have tried to bluff it out, but I guess me and some of the other natives around here, would have spotted you soon enough.
“But as long as you say you haven’t had much experience, and as long as you ain’t ashamed of it, I’ll see that you get plenty of game. I’ll take you to the best places, and show you how to shoot.”
“Of course we know how to use guns, andwe’ve hunted a little,” Tom said, not wanting it to appear that they were absolute novices. And he added: “We’re pretty good shots in a rifle gallery, too. But it’s different out in the woods.”
“I know!” cried Sam. “I understand. You don’t need to worry. You won’t starve, if that’s what’s troubling you. Now I guess we’ll get along,” and the horses stepped proudly out over the snowy road. Bells made a merry jingle as the party of boy hunters started for their first camp.
“Say, Tom,” spoke Jack in a low voice to his chum, “do you think that was Skeel, the man with the ‘chawed’ ear, who was driven over to Hounson’s?”
“I’m almost sure of it,” was the answer.
“Well, what in the world is his object in coming away up here and at the same time we’re due?”
“Give it up. We’ll have to look for the answer later,” was Tom’s reply.
Out on the open road the horses increased their speed, and soon the pung, under the powerful pull of the animals, was sliding along at a fast clip. Much sooner than the boys had expected, they saw, down in a little valley clearing, a comfortable looking log-cabin, and at the sight of it Sam Wilson called out:
“There she is, boys! That’s your first camp!”
The pung came to a stop at the head of a driveway that led up to the log cabin, which was situated in a little clearing in the dense woods all about it. Tom and his chums gave one look at the structure which was to be their home, or one of them for several weeks, and were about to leap out of the sled, when Sam stopped them by a sudden exclamation.
“Hold on a minute, boys!” he said. “I want to take a look there before you step out in the snow.”
“What’s the matter? Are there traps set under the drifts?” asked Bert.
“No, but it looks to me like someone had been tramping around that cabin. I never made them footprints,” and he pointed to some in the snow.
The snow on the driveway, leading from the main road through the woods, up to the hunting cabin itself, was not disturbed or broken by the marks of any sled runners or horses’ hoofs.There were, however, several lines of human footprints leading in both directions.
“Just a moment now, boys,” cautioned Sam, who was following a certain line of footprints, at the same time stepping in a former line, that he had evidently made himself, for his boots just fitted in them.
“What in the world is he doing?” asked George. “Has anything happened? Has a crime been committed? Is he looking for evidence? Why doesn’t he go right up to the cabin?”
“Any more questions?” asked Jack, as the other paused for breath. “It seems like old times, Why, to hear you rattle on in that fashion.”
“Aw——” began George, but that was as far as he got. Sam was ready now, to make an announcement.
“I thought so!” exclaimed the guide. “There has been someone else up here since I left this morning. Someone has been snooping around here, and they hadn’t any right to, as this is private property.”
“Did he get in?” asked Bert, thinking perhaps all the “grub” might have been taken.
“Don’t seem to have gone in,” replied Sam. “Whoever it was made a complete circle around the cabin, though, as if he was looking forsomething. You can see the tracks real plain,” he went on. “Here is where I came up this morning, to see that everything was all right, for I expected you boys this afternoon,” he went on. “And here is where I came back,” and he pointed out his second line of footprints. “And here is where Mr. Stranger started up, went around the cabin, and came out on the main road again,” the guide resumed. “No, he didn’t get in, but he looked in the windows all right.”
This the boys could see for themselves, for they were now out of the pung, there being no further need of not obliterating the strange footprints.
Tom and his chums noticed where the intruder had paused beneath several of the low cabin windows, as though trying to peer inside. And another thing Tom noticed; in the broad sole-impression of each boot-mark of the stranger’s feet was the outline of a star, made in hob nails with which the soles were studded.
“I’ll know that footprint if I see it again,” thought Tom. “But I wonder who it was that was spying around this cabin?”
Sam, however, did not seem to be unduly alarmed over his discovery. George asked him:
“Who do you s’pose it was that made those marks?”
“Oh, some stray hunter,” was the answer.“They often get curious, just like a deer, and come up to see what’s going on. No use getting mad about it, as long as no harm’s done, and they didn’t try to get in. Of course, in case of a blizzard, I wouldn’t find fault if a man took shelter in one of the cabins, even if he had to break in. A man’s got a right to save his life.”
“Do you have bad storms up here?” Bert wanted to know.
“I should say we did!” Sam exclaimed, “and from now on you can count on a storm or a blizzard ’most any day. So watch out for yourselves and carry a compass with you. But here I am chinning away when you want to get in and warm up and tackle the grub. Come on!”
He unlocked the door with a key he carried, and the boys gazed with interest at the interior of the shack. It suited them to perfection.
The cabin contained three rather large rooms. One was the kitchen and dining-room combined, another was sort of a sitting or living-room, made comfortable with rugs on the floor, and a fireplace in which big logs could be burned, while in the middle of the room was a table covered with books and magazines. The third room, opening from the living apartment, was where several bunks were arranged, and the momentary glimpse the boys had of them seemed to promise a fine place to rest at night.
A second glance into the kitchen showed a goodly stock of food. There was a stove, with a fire laid ready for lighting; and a pile of kindling and logs on the hearth was also prepared for ignition. In short, the place was as comfortable as could be desired, and with a blazing fire on the hearth, the knowledge that there was plenty of “grub” in the pantry, and with a blizzard raging outside, there was little more that could be desired—at least, the boys thought that would be perfect.
“Can you fellows cook?” demanded Sam.
“Well, we can make a stab at it,” answered Jack.
“We’ve done some camping,” spoke Tom, modestly enough. “I guess we can get up some sort of a meal.”
“All right. Then I’ll leave you, for I’ve got to get back to my farm,” the guide explained. “Of course there isn’t much to do in the Winter, but attend to the chores and feed the stock, but they have to be looked after. I live about seven miles from here,” he explained, as he brought in the baggage, guns and cameras. “Now the two other camps, that go with this one, are several miles from here, almost in a straight line. There’s a map showing just how to get to ’em,” he said, indicating a blueprint drawing on the cabin wall. “Study that and you won’t get lost. But if youcan’t find the other camps when you want to, I’ll come and show you.”
“Oh, I guess we can manage,” said Tom, who was getting off his coat preparatory to helping start the fires and cooking.
“I’ll stop and see you about once in four days, in case you need anything,” Sam went on. “Just pin a note to the door of the cabin you last leave, saying where you’re going, or whether you’re coming back, so’s I’ll know where to look for you. My farm is located about half way between Camp No. 1, that’s this one, and Camp No. 3, which is the farthest off.
“Well, now if you think you can manage, I’ll leave you. It’s getting on toward night, and my folks will be looking for me,” and Sam prepared to start for home.
“We can get along all right,” Tom assured him. “And may we begin hunting whenever we want to?”
“Start in now if you like, but I’d advise waiting until to-morrow,” the guide said, with a chuckle.
“Yes, we’ll wait,” agreed Jack.
Though the four chums had never been to a real hunters’ camp before, they had often shifted for themselves in the woods, or at some lake, and though they were perhaps not as expert housekeepers as girls, or women, they managed to getup a good meal in comparatively short time.
The fire was started in the kitchen stove, and another blaze was soon roaring up the big chimney in the living-room. This would take the chill off the bunk-room, for it was very cold in there, the windows being covered with a coating of ice.
“Baked beans—from a can—bacon and eggs—coffee and canned peaches, with bread and butter. How does that strike you for the first meal?” asked Tom, who had been looking through the cupboard.
“Fine!” cried Jack. “But what about bread? If there’s any here, it will be as stale as a rock.”
“Sam had some in the sled. His wife baked it, I guess,” said Tom, indicating a bundle on the table. “I found some butter in a jar here.”
“Then start the meal!” cried Bert. “I’m hungry.”
They all were, and they did ample justice to the viands that were soon set forth. The cabin was filled with the appetizing odor of bacon and coffee, and wagging tongues were momentarily stilled, for jaws were busy chewing.
Rough and ready, yet sufficiently effective, was the dish-washing, and then came a comfortable evening, sitting before the crackling blaze on the hearth, while they talked over the experiences of the closing day.
They were all rather sleepy, from the cold wind they had faced on the sled ride, and soon were ready to turn in. Just before banking the fire for the night, Tom paused, and stood in a listening attitude near one of the windows.
“What’s the matter?” asked Jack.
“I thought I heard something,” was the reply.
“He’s worried about the man whose footprints Sam saw in the snow,” said George.
“Or the man with the ‘chawed’ ear,” added Bert.
“No, it was the wind, I guess,” Tom spoke. “But say, fellows, what do you think Skeel is doing up here?”
“Is he here?” questioned Jack.
“Well, that ‘chawed’ ear makes it sound so.”
They discussed the matter for some time longer and then sought the comfortable bunks. Nothing disturbed them during the night, or if there were unusual noises the boys did not hear them, for they all slept soundly.
They awoke to find the sun shining gloriously, and after breakfast Tom got down his gun, an example followed by the others.
“Now for a hunt!” he cried. “Some rabbit stew, or fried squirrel, wouldn’t go half bad.”
“Or a bit of venison or a plump partridge,” added Jack. “On with the hunt!”
Tom and his chums had no false notions about their hunting trip. They did not expect much in the way of big game, though they had been told that at some seasons bear and deer were plentiful. But while they had hopes that they might bag one of those large animals, they were not too sanguine.
“We’ll stand better chances on deer than bears,” said Tom. “For the bears are likely to be ‘holed up’ by now, though there may be one or two stray ones out that haven’t fatted up enough to insure a comfortable sleep all Winter. Of course the deer aren’t like that. They don’t hibernate.”
“What!” laughed Bert. “Say it again, and say it slow.”
“Get out!” cried Tom. “You know what I mean.”
“Well, we might get a brace of fat partridges, or a couple of rabbits,” Jack said. “I’ll be satisfied with them for a starter.”
“Well, I know one thing I’m going to get right now!” exclaimed Bert, with a sudden motion.
“Do you see anything?” demanded Jack, bringing forward his rifle.
“I’m going to snapshot that view! It’s a dandy!” Bert went on, as he opened his camera.
“Oh! Only a picture! I thought it was a bear at least!” cried Tom.
But Bert calmly proceeded to get the view he wanted. He was perhaps more enthusiastic over camera work than the others, though they all liked to dabble in the pastime, and each one had some fine pictures to his credit.
“Well, if you’re done making snapshots, let’s go on and do some real shooting,” proposed Jack.
He and Tom each had a rifle, while Bert and George had shotguns, so they were equipped for any sort of game they were likely to meet. For an hour or more they tramped on through the snow-covered woods, taking care to note their direction by means of a compass, for they were on strange ground, and did not want to get lost on their first hunting trip.
As they came out of a dense patch of scrubby woods, into a little semi-cleared place, a whirr of wings startled all of them.
“There they go—partridges!” yelled Bert, bringing up his gun and firing quickly.
“Missed!” he groaned a moment later as hesaw the brace of plump birds whirr on without so much as a feather ruffled.
“You don’t know how to shoot!” grunted Jack. “You’re not quick enough.”
“Well, I’d like to see you shoot anything when it jumps up right from under your feet, and almost knocks you over,” was Bert’s defence of himself.
“That’s right,” chimed in George. “I couldn’t get my gun ready, either, before they were out of sight.”
“You’ve got to be always on the lookout,” said Tom. “Well, the first miss isn’t so bad. None of us is in proper shape yet. We’ll get there after a while.”
A little disappointed at their first failure, the boys went on again, watching eagerly from side to side as they advanced. No more did Bert use his camera. He wanted to make good on a real shot.
“Well, there’s game here, that’s certain,” said Tom. “If we can only get it!”
Almost as he spoke there was a whirr at his very feet. He started back, and half raised his rifle, not thinking, for the moment, that it was not a shotgun. Then he cried:
“Bert! George! Quick, wing ’em!”
George was quicker than his companion. Upto his shoulder went his weapon and the woods echoed to the shot that followed.
“You got him!” cried Bert, as he saw a bird flutter to the snow. Bert himself fired at the second partridge, and had the satisfaction of knocking off a few feathers, but that was all. But George, who had not thought to fire his second barrel, ran forward and picked up the bird he had bagged. It was a plump partridge.
“That will make part of our meal to-morrow,” he said, proudly, as he put it in the game bag Tom carried.
“Say, we’ve struck a good spot all right!” exclaimed Jack. “It’s up to us now, Tom, to do something.”
“That’s what it is,” agreed his chum.
But if they expected to have a succession and continuation of that good luck they were disappointed, for they tramped on for about three miles more without seeing anything.
“Better not go too far,” advised Tom. “Remember that we’ve got to walk back again, and it gets dark early at this season.”
“Let’s eat grub here and then bear off to the left,” suggested Jack.
They had brought some sandwiches with them, and also a coffee pot and tin cups. They found a sheltered spot, and made a fire, boiling thecoffee which they drank as they munched their sandwiches.
“This is something like!” murmured Bert, his mouth half full.
“That’s what,” agreed George. “You wouldn’t know from looking around here that there was such a place as Elmwood Hall.”
The meal over, they again took up the march, and they had not gone far before Tom, who was a little in advance, started a big white rabbit. He saw the bunny, and then almost lost sight of it again, so well did its white coat of fur blend with the snow. But in another instant Tom’s keen eye saw it turning at an angle.
He raised his rifle.
“You can’t hit it with that!” cried Jack.
But Tom was a better shot than his chum gave him credit for being. As the gun cracked, the rabbit gave a convulsive leap and came down in a heap on the snow.
“By Jove! Youdidbag him!” cried Jack, admiringly.
“Of course,” answered Tom coolly, as though he had intended doing that all along, whereas he well knew, as did his chums, that the shot was pure luck, for it takes a mighty good hunter to get a rabbit with a rifle bullet.
However, the bunny was added to the game bag, and then, for some time, the boys had nofurther luck. A little later, when they were well on their way back, Jack saw a plump gray squirrel on a tree. Bert was near him, but on the wrong side, and Jack, taking his chum’s gun, brought down the animal, which further increased their luck that day.
“Well, we’ve got all we want to eat for a while. What do you say we quit?” suggested Tom. “No use killing just for fun.”
“That’s right,” agreed his chums.
“We won’t fire at anything unless it’s a deer or a bear,” went on Bert, laughing.
As they neared their cabin they were all startled by a movement in the bush ahead of them. It sounded as though some heavy body was forcing its way along.
“There’s a deer—or bear!” whispered Jack, raising his rifle.
“Don’t shoot at anything you can’t see,” was Tom’s good advice. And the next moment there stepped into view of the boys the figure of Professor Skeel. He was almost as startled on seeing the four chums as they were at beholding him.
Professor Skeel might well have shrunk back at the sight which confronted him, for Jack stood poised, with raised weapon, as though he had it pointed at the former instructor. But Professor Skeel did not shrink back. He gazed at the boys, though there was evidence of surprise on his face.
“I—I beg your pardon,” said Jack, for he could not forget the time when the crabbed man had been in authority over him. “I—I—didn’t see you there,” Jack went on.
“Evidently not,” said the man, dryly. “You had better be careful what you do with a gun.”
“I am careful,” answered Jack, a trifle nettled at the words and manner of Mr. Skeel. “I wasn’t going to fire until I saw you.”
“Oh,” said Mr. Skeel.
“I—I didn’t mean just that,” Jack went on. “I meant I was going to see what it was before I shot.”
That was decidedly the better way of putting it.
“You—you are quite a ways from—from ElmwoodHall,” said Tom, changing from his first intention of saying “home,” for he recollected he did not know where Professor Skeel lived.
“Yes, I am up here on—business,” went on the unpopular man. “And I trust there aren’t any hills where you can roll down big snowballs,” he added significantly.
“You seem to forget that was an accident,” Tom said. He did not altogether like Professor Skeel’s tone.
“Well, I don’t want any accidents like that to happen up here,” went on the former teacher. “And now another matter. Are you boys following me? If you are, I warn you that I will not tolerate it. You must leave me alone. I have business to do up here, and——”
“We most decidedly arenotfollowing you!” exclaimed Tom, with emphasis. “Besides, we are on private grounds, the use of which we were granted for this holiday season, and——”
“Is that a polite request for me to—get off?” asked Mr. Skeel.
“Well, no, not exactly,” Tom answered. “We are not the owners, but we have the privilege of hunting here. It is possible that the caretaker may order you off. But you have no right to say that we are following you. We have a right here.”
“I didn’tsayyou were—I onlyaskedif youwere,” said Mr. Skeel, who seemed to “come down off his high horse a bit,” as Jack said afterward.
“Then I’ll say that you are entirely mistaken,” went on Tom. “We were out hunting, and we came upon you unexpectedly. We were as much surprised as you were, though we guessed you were in the neighborhood.”
“You did?” cried Professor Skeel, with sudden energy. He seemed both startled and angry. “Who told you?” he demanded.
“Sam Wilson, the man who drove you over from the depot to Hounson’s place,” replied Tom, who had no reason for concealment, and who also wanted to show that he knew the whereabouts of Mr. Skeel.
“I never told him my name!” declared the former instructor.
Tom did not care to state that they had guessed the identity of the man by the description of his injured ear. The member was in plain sight as Tom looked—a ragged, torn lobe, of angry-red color, and it did look, as Sam had said, as though it had been “chawed by some critter.”
“You seem to know considerable of my affairs,” went on Mr. Skeel. “But I want to warn you that I will tolerate no spying on my movements, and if you try any of your foolish schoolboy tricks, I shall inform the authorities.” Heglared at Tom as he said this, as though challenging him to make a threat. Doubtless the professor knew that any charges which might lie against him in New Jersey would be ineffective in the Adirondacks. But Tom did not care to press that matter now.
“You need not fear that we will spy on you,” said the leader of the young hunters. “And as for playing tricks, we have something else to do, Mr. Skeel.”
“Very well; see that you keep to it.”
He turned as though to go away, and, as he did so the boys saw two other men advancing up a woodland path toward the professor.
Mr. Skeel made a quick motion toward the men, exactly, as Bert said afterward, as though he wanted to warn them back. But either they did not see, or understand, the warning gestures, or else they chose to ignore them, for they came up the inclined snowy path, until they stood in full view of the four boys. At the sight of one of the men, Tom uttered an exclamation, that was echoed by his chums.
“Whalen!” he murmured, recognizing the discharged employee, for whose dismissal he was, in a great measure, responsible, since he had made a report of the man’s cruelty to a young student at Elmwood Hall.
“We were looking——” began Whalen,speaking to the professor, when he happened to recognize the four young hunters, whom he had evidently failed to notice, as they stood somewhat in the shadow of a big pine tree, and were well wrapped up from the cold.
“Never mind now,” said Mr. Skeel, quickly, as though to keep the man silent. “I was just going back to you. It seems we are on private grounds.”
“Well, what of that?” jeered the other man, who had not yet spoken. He had a brutal, evil face.
“Lots of it, if you’re not careful,” snapped Tom, who did not like the fellow’s tone, or manner.
“Oh, is that so, young feller? Well, I’d have you know——”
The man stopped suddenly, for Whalen had administered a quiet kick, and whispered something in his ear. What he said the boys could not hear, but they saw the warning and quieting chastisement.
“Oh,” and the other man, who had been addressed as Murker, seemed to swallow the rest of his words.
“Come on,” said Professor Skeel, and without a further look at the four chums he turned away, followed by the two men with evil faces.
“Whew! This is going some!” gasped Jack,when the trio was out of sight. “Who’d think of meeting Skeel and those two worthies up here in the wilderness?”
“Well, we practically knew Skeel was here,” said Bert, “though we aren’t any nearer than we were in guessing at what his object is. But it is a surprise to see Whalen and that other man, whoever he is. They must be trailing in with Skeel. What’s the game, Tom?”
Tom Fairfield did not answer for a moment. He was busy looking at some tracks in the snow.
“Yes, they are just the same,” he murmured, slowly.
“What is it? A bear?” asked George, eagerly.
“No, but look,” and Tom pointed to some footprints. In the middle of the sole of each one was a star made in hob nails.
“Why—why, that’s the same mark that was near our cabin,” cried Jack.
“Exactly,” Tom agreed coolly. “I thought it would prove so.”
“But what does it all mean?” asked Bert. “What are they doing up here, and around our cabin?”
“Give it up,” spoke Tom. “Maybe they’re hunting, as we are.”
“But they had no guns,” Jack said.
“No. Well, we’ll just have to wait and seewhat turns up,” Tom went on. “I think we gave ’em rather a surprise, though.”
“We sure did,” agreed George. “But that Whalen surprised me, too. I wonder how he got here?”
“Didn’t you say you told him where we were coming?” Tom asked.
“Yes, I did, after he pumped me with a lot of questions. I didn’t realize what I was doing. I say, Tom, I hope I haven’t done any harm!”
“Oh, no. There wasn’t any secret about where we were going to spend the Christmas holidays,” Tom said. “But it is rather odd to find those three so close after us. But maybe it will be all right. They know they are on private preserves—our private grounds—for the time being, and I guess they won’t trouble us.”
“Then it was those three, sneaking around the cabin?” asked Jack.
“Professor Skeel, at least,” Tom went on, “though it may have been only ordinary curiosity that took him there. We’ll take a little trip over to Hounson’s some day, and see what we can pick up there.”
It was getting late, so the young hunters made haste back to their cabin. They had supper, and then once more sat about the fire and talked through the long Winter evening. The next day they dressed their game and cooked it, finding ita welcome relief from the canned meats and bacon on which they had been living.
The rest of that week they remained in the vicinity of Cabin No. 1, having fair luck, but getting no big game. They saw one deer, but missed him. In this time they saw no more of Skeel or his cronies.
“What do you say we go over to Camp No. 2 for a change?” asked Tom, one night.
“We’re with you,” his chums agreed, and they made an early start, through the woods, locking up the place they left behind, for they might not be back for several days. They managed to bag several rabbits and squirrels on their march, but saw no signs of deer. Sam had told them they might not have much luck in this direction.
In due time, by following a copy of the blue print map they had made, they came to Camp No. 2. There had been a light fall of snow in the night, and as Tom approached the cabin, he cried out:
“Boys, they’ve been here ahead of us!” He pointed to footprints in the white blanket—footprints, one of which had a star in the middle of the sole.
Impetuous George Abbot was about to rush forward when Tom, stretching out a hand, held him back.
“Hold on a minute,” he said, and there was some strange quality in Tom’s voice that made his chum obey.
“What’s up?” he asked, glancing from Tom to the cabin.
“Nothing yet, but there may be,” was the cool answer.
“You mean there may be someone in that cabin—Skeel or those other men?”
“That’s about the size of it,” Tom said.
“That’s right—best to be on the safe side,” put in Bert. “Those men, or Skeel, especially, have been here lately.”
“But they haven’t any right in our cabin—at least the cabin your friends gave us the use of, Tom,” objected George.
“I know they haven’t, and that’s just wherethe trouble might come in. Those two men with Skeel look like ugly customers. If we cornered them in a cabin they had no right to enter, they might turn ugly. It’s best to go a bit slowly until we find out whether or not they are in there.”
“That’s what I say,” chimed in Jack. “Not that I’m afraid, but I don’t want to run into trouble so early on our vacation. Of course it’s possible,” he went on, “that someone else besides Skeel and his cronies may have been here, or may still be here, for boots, with nail-marks like those on the sole, can’t be so very rare. But I’m inclined to think Skeel wore those,” and he nodded toward the marks in the snow.
“I agree with you,” Tom said, “and we’ll soon find out. Let’s look about a bit before we rush up to the cabin,” he went on.
Slowly the boys circled about it, gradually coming closer, to give those within, if such unwarranted visitors there might be, a chance to either make their presence known in a friendly manner, or take their departure.
But there was no sign from the cabin of Camp No. 2, and, after waiting a little while, Tom and his chums moved forward. As they came nearer, they could see that some two or three persons had made a complete circle about the cabin, and had even advanced up on the rough steps that led to the front door. Whether they had entered ornot was something that could not be stated with positiveness.
“Well, the door’s locked, anyhow,” Tom said, as he looked at the padlock. “But of course they might have a duplicate key.” He drew from his pocket the one Sam Wilson had given him, and a moment later Tom and his chums stood inside the cabin. They breathed a sigh of relief. No one opposed them.
Nor, as far as could be learned by a glance around the interior, had any uninvited guests been present. The place was in order, not as complete, perhaps as that of the first camp, but enough to show that it had been “slicked up,” after its last occupancy by the hunting party of gentlemen to whom Tom and his friends were indebted for the use of the camps.
“Skeel and his cronies may have been here all the same, looking for us,” said Jack, as he stood his gun in a corner.
“Why should they be looking for us?” inquired George.
“Now don’t start that list of questions,” objected Jack. “Ask Tom.”
George turned a gaze on his other chum.
“Of course Skeel may have been here,” admitted our hero. “We were never in this cabin before, and we don’t know how it looked, or how it was arranged. But if they were here, theydon’t seem to have done much damage, and if they had a meal, they washed the dishes up after them.”
A look in the kitchen showed that it was in order. This cabin was built just the same as was No. 1, and the arrangements and furnishings were practically similar.
“Well, Skeel or no Skeel, I’m going to have something to eat!” cried Tom. “Come on, fellows, make yourselves at home.”
This they proceeded to do, making arrangements to get a meal, for there was plenty of wood for the stove as well as a pile of dry logs for the fireplace. A blaze was not unwelcome, for it was growing colder, and there were signs of a storm.
As our friends sat about the cozy, crackling blaze on the hearth they were unaware of three men, on the edge of the little clearing in which the cabin stood—three men who were gazing at the smoke curling up from the chimney.
“Yes, there they are!” grumbled the one known as Whalen. “There they are in their cabin, nice and warm, and with plenty to eat, and we’re out in the cold. I don’t like it, I say! I don’t like it!”
“Now, don’t get rash!” observed Professor Skeel, for he was of the trio. “What is a little discomfort now compared to the satisfaction we’ll have later?”
“I wouldn’t mind so much, if I was sure of that,” said Whalen sullenly. “But it ain’t noways sure.”
“I’ll make it sure,” said the hoarse voice of the other plotter.
“Have you decided on a way to get him into our hands?” asked the former teacher eagerly. “Have you a plan, Murker?”
“Yes, and a good one, too!” was the answer. “It’s come to me since we’ve been fiddling around here.”
“And can we get him—get Tom Fairfield—where we want him?” asked Professor Skeel eagerly. “That’s what I want to know.”
“Yes, I think we can,” answered Murker, an unpleasant grin spreading over his evil face. “I haven’t all the details worked out yet, but when I get through, I think we’ll have him just where we want him. Not that I want him particularly,” he went on. “I never knew him before you fellows got me into this,” and when he classed Professor Skeel as a “fellow,” the latter did not object.
It showed to what depths the really talented man had fallen. For Professor Skeel was a brilliant scholar, and would have made his mark in educational circles, had he chosen to be honest. But he took the easiest way, which ends by being the hardest.
“I don’t ask you to take any interest in Tom Fairfield, once you help me get him in my power,” went on the former instructor. “I’ll attend to the rest. But I want him alone. I don’t want to have to handle any of the others.”
“I should say not!” exclaimed Whalen. “We’ll have our hands full, if we try to take care of all four of ’em.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t be afraid,” was the sneering comment of Murker. “I guess we could persuade ’em to be good,” and he leered at his companions.
“Four are too many to handle,” decided Professor Skeel. “I want Tom Fairfield alone.”
“And I’ll get him for you,” promised Murker. “But you’ve got to give me a share of the ransom money.”
“Oh, I’ll do that,” readily agreed the former teacher. “I’m doing this as much to square accounts with him as for anything else.”
“Well, I’m not working for love—or revenge,” chuckled Murker. “I want the cold cash.”
“So do I,” chimed in Whalen, “but I want revenge, too. It’s going to be a regular kidnapping, isn’t it?” and he looked at Professor Skeel.
“It will be if he can carry it out,” was the answer, with a nod at Murker.
“Oh, I’ll do my part,” was the assurance given.
“But won’t it be risky—dangerous?” asked Whalen. “I don’t want to get in trouble,” and he looked rather anxiously about him, as though already he feared officers of the law might be after him.
“There’s no more risk for you than for us,” spoke Professor Skeel.
“There won’t be any risk—not up in this lonesome place,” Murker said.
“But how are you going to make sure of getting Tom into our hands alone?” asked the rascally professor.
“Leave that to me,” was the chuckling answer. “I used to live in this region when I was a young fellow. Folks have forgotten me, but I haven’t forgotten them.”
“I say!” exclaimed Professor Skeel, “I hope you’re not going to bring any more into this. The more there are the more risk there is, and the money I expect to get from Mr. Fairfield, for giving Tom back to him, won’t go so far if we have to split it up——”
“Oh, don’t worry! No one else but us three will be in it. I should have said I hadn’t forgotten the country up around here—not so much the people. I don’t care anything about them. But I know every cross-road and bridle-path through the woods, and it will be funny if I can’t get this lad where I want him. They’re strangers uphere, and they have to depend on signposts, and what that guide tells them.”
“But they are smart fellows,” said Professor Skeel. “I know, for I taught them in school. If they have a signboard to go by, it will be as good to them as a printed book would be to most people.”
“That may all be very true,” chuckled Murker. “But tell me this. A wrong signboard isn’t much use to anyone, is it? Not even to a smart lad.”
“A wrong signboard? What do you mean?” asked the professor.
“I mean just what I said—‘a wrong signboard’—one that gives the wrong direction. It’s worse than none at all, isn’t it?”
“Well, I should say it was,” was the slow answer of the former teacher. “But are you going to get Tom Fairfield——”
“Now, don’t ask too many questions,” was the advice of his evil-faced crony. “When you don’t know a thing, you can say so with a clear conscience in case the detectives get asking too many personal questions of you.”
“That’s so,” agreed Professor Skeel, readily understanding what was meant.
“Detectives!” exclaimed Whalen. “Did you say detectives?
“But—er—I—they—I don’t want to see anydetectives,” stammered the former employee of Elmwood Hall.
“I don’t either,” chuckled Murker. “But it’s best to be on the safe side, and to prepare for emergencies. So what you and the professor don’t know, you can’t tell. Leave the details to me, and I’ll fix ’em. Now I think we’ve been here long enough. We know what we came over to this cabin to find out—that they hadn’t been here before until just now. And we’re pretty certain they’ll go next—to No. 3 Camp.”
“What makes you think so?” asked Whalen.
“Because boys are like deer at times—mighty curious. They won’t rest satisfied until they’ve tried all three camps. They’ll go over to the last one in a few days, and then, Skeel, we may have Tom Fairfield just where we want him!”
“I hope so!” was the fervent exclamation, as the three plotters made their way off through the dense woods.
“Well, we’re not going to stay in all the rest of the day, are we?” asked Jack Fitch, pushing back his chair from the table.
“I should say not!” exclaimed Bert. “There’s plenty of time yet to go out and bag a deer or two.”
“Nothing small about you,” chuckled Tom, as he looked to his ammunition. “But I agree that there’s no use wasting time indoors. It does look like a storm, so we won’t go too far away from the cabin.”
“Are we going to stay here to-night?” asked George.
“Sure,” remarked Tom. “It’s too far to tramp back to No. 1 Camp. This is just as well stocked up, and as there are plenty of bedclothes here, and lots of wood, we don’t care how cold it gets outside.”
They had finished their meal, and it was now early in the afternoon. It would soon be dark, however, for in December the days are very short. But, as Jack had said, the few remaining hoursof daylight need not be wasted, and as yet the boys had not bagged any big game.
“It’s too dark for photographs,” suggested George, as he saw Bert getting out his camera.
“Not if I make a few as soon as I get out,” was the answer. “I want to get some views around this camp.”
A close search through the cabin had not revealed that Skeel and his companions had entered. The boys felt sure it was those men who had made the tracks in the snow about the little building. But, if they had entered, nothing had been unduly disturbed.
“I wish I knew what their game was,” spoke Jack, as he shouldered his gun and followed Tom and the others outside.
“Itissort of a puzzle,” our hero agreed. “We’ll have to take a walk over to Hounson’s some day this week, and see what we can learn. If those fellows think they can trespass all over these camps it’s time we told Sam Wilson. He’ll send them flying, I’ll wager!”
“That’s right!” declared Bert.
The boys followed a trail through the woods. Their friend, the guide and caretaker of the camps, had told them about it, advising them to follow it, as they might see some game along it. This they were now hoping for, keeping a bright lookout in every direction.
As they tramped along, the sudden rattle of a dried bush on the right of Tom attracted his attention. He looked in time to see a white streak darting along.
“A rabbit!” he cried and fired on the instant.
“Missed!” yelled Bert, as the echoes of the shot died away.
“No, I didn’t!” cried Tom. “You’ll find him behind that stump.”
And, surely enough, when the other boys looked, there was the rabbit neatly bagged. He was needed for food, too, for they had no fresh meat at this camp, and already they were beginning to tire of the canned variety.
Except for the determination to each bring back a deer’s head, and the pelt of a bear, our four boy hunters had made up their minds not to be wanton shots. They wanted to get enough game for food, and the head and skin for relics, after using such of the meat as they needed of the bear and deer.
“Of course we four can’t eat all that meat in the short while we’ll be in the woods,” Tom said, “but we can give it to Sam, so it won’t be wasted.”
Tom and his chums had the right idea of hunting, and had no desire to slaughter for the mere savage joy of killing.
“Another rabbit and a few partridges and we’llhave enough to keep the kitchen going the rest of the week,” Bert said, as Tom put the bunny in his bag. “Then all we’ll have to look for will be a bear or a deer.”
But even small game was scarce, it seemed, and though several shots were tried at rabbits at a distance, and though some partridges were flushed, no further luck resulted.
It was growing dusk when Tom suggested that they had better return to camp, and they retraced their steps. However, the rabbit was a large one, and, made into either a stew or potpie, would provide the main dish for their next day’s dinner.
Early in the morning the boys were on the move again. They hunted around the cabin, planning to come back to it at noon for the hot rabbit dinner, and this they did.
The only luck they had was that Bert and George got some fine photographs. But not a rabbit nor a bird fell to their guns that day. Tom scared up a fox, and took several shots at it, hoping he might carry home the skin. But if Reynard were hit he showed no signs of it, and went bounding on through the woods.
“We’ll make a regular hunt of it to-morrow,” decided Tom, as they sat about the cheerful fire in the cabin that night. “We’ll get an early start, take our lunch, a pot to make some coffeeover an open fire, and we won’t come back until dark.”
“That’s the talk!” cried Bert.
“This is the best hunting ground, according to what Sam said,” Tom went on, “and we want to put in our best licks here. So we’ll take a whole day to it, and go as far as we can, working north, I think, as the woods seem to be thicker there.”
This met with the approval of the others, and they started out the next morning, equipped for staying several hours in the open. They set out on a new trail, one they had not traveled before, but they had not gone far on it before Tom, who was in the lead, came to a sudden halt, and uttered an exclamation of surprise.
“What’s the matter?” called Jack, who was directly behind him. “See some bear tracks?”
“No, these are Skeel tracks, I should say. Those fellows must be just ahead of us, for the marks seem quite fresh.”
Tom pointed to some impressions in the snow. Among them were footprints showing that same star mark in hob nails.
“I wonder why they’re trailing and following us?” remarked Bert. “It can’t be just for fun.”
“Maybe they don’t know where to look for game, and are depending on us,” suggested George.
“That might be so,” agreed Tom. “But Iwish they’d show their hands, and not keep us guessing all the while. It’s getting on my nerves.”
“Well, we’ll keep a lookout for ’em now,” suggested Bert, “and if we see ’em, we’ll give ’em a bit of our minds.”
“Yes, and I’m going to ask Sam Wilson to tell ’em to go,” added Tom. “They haven’t any right here. They may be scaring all the game away, and besides, it’s risky. They may get in the way of our guns, or we come too close to theirs, though I haven’t seen them with either a rifle or a shotgun yet.”
“No they don’t seem to be hunting, but if they aren’t, what in the world are they up here for?” asked Bert.
“That’s what gets me,” remarked Jack. “Well, come on. Time’s too valuable to waste in chinning.”
Once more they took up the trail. The footsteps of the three men, on their mysterious errand, crossed the path of our friends at an angle, and they did not think it wise to follow the marks of the hob nails.
Luck seemed to be better to-day, from the very start, for, before they had gone three miles, they had bagged two rabbits, three squirrels and Jack had a partridge to his credit.
“Enough to keep us from starving,” he said.“Now for bigger game—a deer, at least.”
“I’d like to get a good deer picture,” announced Bert, looking to see that his camera was in working order.
A little later the four boys stood in a small clearing in the woods, wondering which way to go next, for, so far, they had seen no signs of either bear or deer. They hoped it was not so late in the season that all the bears would be enjoying their winter sleep.
Suddenly there was a slight noise over in the underbrush to the left of the clearing.
“I’m going to see what that is!” cried Bert, starting forward with his camera.
“Probably nothing but a rabbit,” said Jack. “And we’ve got enough of the bunnies.”