CHAPTER XXII
WAYLAID IN THE TIMBER
“Stand perfectly still, Jud,” cried Paul, hastily, fearful that his impulsive companion might be tempted to do something careless.
“But if he starts to jump at us I ought to try to riddle him, Paul, don’t you think?” pleaded the other, as he drew both hammers of his gun back.
Paul carried a camp hatchet, which he had made use of to fashion the approach to the trap. This he drew back menacingly, while gripping the lantern in his left hand.
“Of course, you can, if it comes to a fight, Jud,” he answered, “but the cat may not mean to attack us after all. They’re most vicious when they have young kits near by, and this isn’t the time of year for that.”
“Huh! Tolly Tip told me there was an unusual lot of these fellows around here this season, and mighty bold at that,” Jud remarked, drily, as he searched the vicinity for some sign of a creeping form at which he could fire.
“Yes, I suppose the early coming of winter has made them extra hungry,” admitted the scout-master; “though there seems to be plenty of game for them to catch in the way of rabbits, partridges and gray squirrels.”
“Well, do we go on again, Paul, or are you thinking of camping here for the rest of the night?” demanded Jud, impatiently.
“Oh! we’ll keep moving toward the home camp,” Jud was informed. “But watch out every second of the time. That chap may be lying in a crotch of a tree, meaning to drop down on us.”
A minute later, as they were moving slowly and cautiously along, Jud gave utterance to a low hiss.
“I see the rascal, Paul!” he said excitedly.
“Wait a bit, Jud,” urged the other. “Don’t shoot without being dead sure. A wounded bobcat is nothing to be laughed at, and we may get some beauty scratches before we can finish him. Tell me where you’ve glimpsed the beast.”
“Look up to where I’m pointing with my gun, Paul, and you can see two yellow balls shining like phosphorus. Those are his eyes and if I aim right between them I’m bound to finish him.”
Jud had hardly said this when there came a loud hoot, and the sound of winnowing wings reached them. At the same time the glowing, yellow spots suddenly vanished.
“Wow! what do you think of that for a fake?” growled Jud in disgust. “It was only an old owl after all, staring down at us. But say, Paul! that screech didn’t come from him let me tell you; there’s a cat around here somewhere.”
As if to prove Jud spoke the truth there came just then another vicious snarl.
“Holy smoke! Paul, did you hear that?” ejaculated Jud, half turning. “Comes from behind us now, and I really believe there must be a pair of the creatures stalking us on the way home!”
“They usually hunt in couples,” affirmed Paul, not showing any signs of alarm, though he clutched the hatchet a little more firmly in his right hand, and turned his head quickly from side to side, as though desirous of covering all the territory possible.
“Would it pay us to move around in a half circle, and let them keep the old path?” asked Jud, who could stand for one wildcat, but drew the line at a wholesale supply.
“I don’t believe it would make any difference,” returned the scout-master. “If they’re bent on giving us trouble any sign of weakness on our part would only encourage them.”
“What shall we do then?”
“Move right along and pay attention to our business,” replied Paul. “If we find that we’ve got to fight, try to make sure of one cat when you fire. The second rascal we may have to tackle with hatchet and clubbed gun. Now walk ahead of me, so the light won’t dazzle your eyes when I swing the lantern.”
The two scouts moved along slowly, always on the alert. Paul kept the light going back and forth constantly, hoping that it might impress the bold bobcats with a sense of caution. Most wild animals are afraid of fire, and as a rule there is no better protection for the pedestrian when passing through the lonely woods than to have a blazing torch in his hand, with lusty lungs to shout occasionally.
“Hold on!” exclaimed Jud, after a short time had elapsed.
“What do you see now, another owl?” asked Paul, trying to make light of the situation, though truth to tell he felt a bit nervous.
“This isn’t any old owl, Paul,” asserted the boy with the gun. “Besides the glaring eyes, I can see his body on that limb we must pass under. Look yourself and tell me if that isn’t his tail twitching back and forth?”
“Just what it is, Jud. I’ve seen our tabby cat do that when crouching to spring on a sparrow. The beast is ready to jump as soon as we come within range. Are you covering him, Jud?”
“Dead center. Trust me to damage his hide for him. Shall I shoot?”
“Use only one barrel, mind, Jud. You may need the other later on. Now, if you’re all ready, let go!”
There was a loud bang as Jud pulled the trigger. Mingled with the report was a shrill scream of agony. Then something came flying through the air from an entirely different quarter.
“Look out! The second cat!” yelled Paul, striking savagely with his hatchet, which struck against a flying body, and hurled it backward in a heap.
The furious wildcat instantly recovered, and again assailed the two boys standing on the defensive. Jud had clubbed his gun, for at such close quarters he did not think he could shoot with any degree of accuracy.
Indeed, for some little time that beast kept both of them on the alert, and more than once sharp claws came in contact with the tough khaki garments worn by the scouts.
After a third furious onslaught which ended in the cat’s being knocked over by a lucky stroke from Jud’s gunstock, the animal seemed to conclude that the combat was too unequal. That last blow must have partly tamed its fiery spirit, for it jumped back out of sight, though they could still hear its savage snarling from some point near by.
Both lads were panting for breath. At the same time they felt flushed with victory. It was not every scout who could meet with such an adventure as this when in the snowy forest, and come out of it with credit.
“If he only lets me get a glimpse of his old hide,” ventured Jud, grimly, “I’ll riddle it for him, let me tell you! But say! I hope you don’t mean to evacuate this gory battle-ground without taking a look to see whether I dropped that other beast or not?”
“Of course not, Jud! I’m a little curious myself to see whether your aim was as good as you believe. Let’s move over that way, always keeping ready to repel boarders, remember. That second cat may get his wind, and come for us again.”
“I hope he will, that’s what!” said Jud, whose fighting blood was now up. “I dare him to tackle us again. Nothing would please me better, Paul.”
A dozen paces took them to the vicinity of the tree in which Jud had sighted the crouching beast at which he had fired.
“Got him, all right, Paul!” he hastened to call out, with a vein of triumph in his excited voice. “He fell in a heap, and considering that there were twelve buckshot in that shell, and every one hit him, it isn’t to be wondered at.”
“A pretty big bobcat in the bargain, Jud, and well worth boasting over. Look at his long claws, and the sharp teeth back of those short lips. An ugly customer let me tell you. I’m glad we didn’t have him on our shoulders, that’s all.”
“I’m bound to drag the creature all the way to the cabin, to show the boys,” announced the successful marksman. “Now don’t say anything against it, Paul. You see I’ll hold my gun under my arm ready, and at the first sign of trouble I’ll let go of the game and be ready to shoot.”
“That’s all right, Jud, you’re entitled to your trophy, though the skin is pretty well riddled with that big hole through it. Still, Tolly Tip may be able to cure it so as to make a mat for your den at home. Let’s be moving.”
They could still hear that low and ominous growling and snarling. Sometimes it came from one side, and then again switched around to the other, as the angry cat tried to find an avenue that would appear to be undefended.
Every step of the way home they felt they were being watched by a pair of fiery eyes. Not for a second did either of the boys dream of abating their vigilance, for the sagacity of the wildcat would enable him to know when to make the attack.
Indeed, several times Jud dropped his trailing burden and half raised his gun, as he imagined he detected a suspicious movement somewhere close by. They proved to be false alarms, however, and nothing occurred on the way home to disturb them.
When not far from the cabin they heard loud voices, and caught the flicker of several blazing torches amidst the trees.
“It’s Tolly Tip and the boys,” announced Paul, as soon as he caught the sounds and saw the moving lights. “They must have heard the gunshot and our shouts, and are coming this way to find out what’s the trouble.”
A few minutes later they saw half a dozen hurrying figures approaching, several carrying guns. As the anxious ones discovered Paul and Jud they sent out a series of whoops which the returning scouts answered. And when those who had come from the cabin saw the dead bobcat, as well as listened to the story of the attack, they were loud in their praises of the valor of the adventurous pair.
CHAPTER XXIII
THE BLIZZARD
“Whew! but it’s bitter cold this morning!” shouted Sandy Griggs, as he opened the cabin door and thrust his head out.
“Looks like a few flakes of snow shooting past, in the bargain,” added Bobolink. “That means that the long expected storm is upon us.”
Paul turned to Jack at hearing this, for both of them were hurriedly dressing after crawling out of their comfortable bunks.
“A little snow isn’t going to make us hedge on that arrangement we made the last thing before turning in, I hope, Jack?” he asked, smilingly.
“I should say not!” came the prompt reply. “Besides, if it’s going to put a foot or two of the feathery on the ground, it strikes me you’ve just got to get that expensive camera of yours again. I’m with you, Paul, right after breakfast.”
Tolly Tip was also in somewhat of a hurry, wishing to make the round of his line of traps before the storm fully set in.
So it came about that Paul and his closest chum, after a cup of hot coffee and a meagre breakfast, hurried away from the cabin.
“We can get another batch when we come back, if they save any for us, you know,” the scout-master remarked, as they opened the door and passed out.
“Kape your bearin’s, lads,” called the old woodsman. “If so be the storm comes along with a boom it’ll puzzle ye to be sure av yer way. And by the same token, to be adrift in thim woods with a howler blowin’ for thray days isn’t any fun.”
When the scouts once got started they found that the air was particularly keen. Both of them were glad they had taken the precaution to cover up their ears, and wear their warmest mittens.
“Something seems to tell me we’re in for a regular blizzard this time,” Jack remarked as they trudged manfully along, at times bowing their heads to the bitter wind that seemed to cut like a knife.
“I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if that turned out to be true,” Paul contented himself with saying.
They did not exchange many words while breasting the gale, for it was the part of wisdom to keep their mouths closed as much as possible.Paul had taken note of the way to the spot where the camera trap had been set in the hope of catching Bruin in the act of taking the sweet bait.
A number of times he turned around and looked back. This was because he had accustomed himself to viewing his surroundings at various angles, which is a wise thing for a scout to do. Then when he tries to retrace his steps he will not find himself looking at a reverse picture that seems unfamiliar in his eyes.
In the course of time the boys arrived at their destination.
“Don’t see anything upset around here,” observed Paul, with a shade of growing disappointment in his voice; and then almost instantly adding in excitement: “But the bait’s gone, all right—and yes! the cartridge has been fired. Good enough!”
“Here you can see faint signs of the tracks of the bear under this new coating of snow!” declared Jack, pointing down at his feet.
Paul, knowing that he would not go for his camera until after broad daylight, had managed to so arrange it, with a clever attachment of his own construction, that an exposure was made just at the second the cord firing the flashlight was drawn taut.
It was a time exposure—the shutter remaining open for a score of seconds before automatically closing again. This was arranged so that pictures could be taken on moonlight nights as well as dark ones. He had tried it on several previous occasions, and with very good results.
Brushing the accumulated snow from his camera, he quickly had the precious article in his possession.
“Nothing else to keep us here, is there, Paul?” asked Jud.
“No, and the sooner we strike a warm gait for the cabin the better,” said the scout-master. “You notice, if anything, that wind is getting sharper right along, and the snow strikes you on the cheek like shot pellets, stinging furiously. So far as I’m concerned we can’t make the camp any too soon.”
Nevertheless, it might have been noticed that Paul did not hurry, in the sense that he forgot to keep his wits about him. The warning given by Tolly Tip was still fresh in his ears, and even without it Paul would hardly have allowed himself to become indiscreet or careless.
Jack, too, saw that they were following the exact line they had taken in coming out. As a scout he knew that the other did not get his bearings from any marks on the ground, such as might easily be obliterated by falling snow. Trees formed the basis of Paul’s calculations. He particularly noticed every peculiarly shaped tree or growth upon the right side while going out, which would bring them on his left in returning.
In this fashion the scout-master virtually blazed a path as he went; for those trees gave him his points just as well as though they represented so many gashes made with a hatchet.
“I’m fairly wild to develop this film, and see whether the bear paid for his treat with a good picture,” Paul ventured to say when they were about half way to the camp.
“Do you know what I was thinking about just then?” asked Jack.
“Something that had to do with other fellows, I’ll be bound,” replied the scout-master. “You were looking mighty serious, and I’d wager a cookey that you just remembered there were other fellows up here to be caught in the blizzard besides our crowd.”
Jack laughed at hearing this.
“You certainly seem to be a wizard, Paul, to guess what was in my mind,” he told his chum. “But it’s just as you say. Sim Jeffreys told us the other day that they had come up with only a small amount of food along. If they’ve stayed around up to now they’re apt to find themselves in a pretty bad pickle.”
“That’s a fact, Jack, if this storm keeps on for several days, and the snow happens to block all the paths out of the woods. Let’s hope they gave it up, and went back home again. We haven’t seen a thing of them since then, you remember.”
Jack shook his head.
“You know how pig-headed Hank Lawson always is,” he told his chum. “Once he gets started in a thing, he hates everlastingly to give up. He came here to bother us, I feel sure, and a little thing like a shortage of provisions wouldn’t force him to call the game off.”
“Then it’s your opinion, is it, Jack, they’re still in that hole among the rocks Sim spoke of?”
“Chances are three to one it’s that way,” quickly replied Jack. “They have guns, and could get some game that way, for they know how to hunt. Then if it came to the worst perhaps Hank would try to sneak around our cabin, hoping to find a chance to steal some of our supplies.”
A short time later they sighted the cabin through the now thickly falling snow, and both boys felt very glad to be able to get under shelter.
Tolly Tip did not return until some hours had passed. By that time the snow carried by a furious wind that howled madly around the corners, was sweeping past the windows of the cabin like a cloud of dust.
Everybody was glad when the old woodsman arrived. He flung several prizes down on the floor, not having taken the time to detach the pelts.
“’Tis a screecher av a blizzard we’re after havin’ drop in on us, by the same token,” he said, with quivering lips, as he stretched out his hands toward the cheerful blaze of the fire.
Being very eager to ascertain what measure of success had fallen to him with regard to the bear episode, Paul proceeded to develop the film.
When he rejoined the other boys in the front room some time later he was holding up the developed film, still dripping with water.
“The best flashlight I ever got, let me tell you!” Paul exclaimed. At this there was a cheer and a rush to see the film.
There was the bear, looking very much astonished at the sudden brilliant illumination which must have seemed like a flash of lightning to him.
All day long the storm howled, the snow drifted and scurried around the cabin. Whenever the boys went for wood they had to be very careful lest they lose their way even in such a short distance, for it was impossible to see five feet ahead. When they went to bed that night the same conditions held good, and every one felt that they were in the grip of the greatest blizzard known for ten years.
CHAPTER XXIV
THE DUTY OF THE SCOUT
When two days had passed and the storm still raged, the scouts began to feel more anxious than ever. The snow continued to sweep past the cabin in blinding sheets. It was difficult to know whether all this came from above, or if some was snatched up from the ground and whirled about afresh.
In some places enormous drifts abounded, while other more exposed spots had been actually swept bare by the wind.
The scouts had not suffered in the least, save mentally. The cabin proved to be fairly warm, thanks to the great fire they kept going day and night; and they certainly had no reason to fear for any lack of provisions with which to satisfy their ever present appetites.
Still, from time to time, murmurs could be heard.
“One thing sure!” Sandy Griggs was saying toward noon on this third day of the blizzard, “this storm is going to upset a whole lot of our plans.”
“Knock ’em into a jiffy!” added Bluff.
“We’ll never be able to skate down the creek to the lake, if it’s covered with two feet of snow,” Sandy growled.
“Oh! for all we know,” laughed Paul, “this wind has been a good friend to us, and may keep the smooth ice clear of snow. We’d better not cry until we know the milk has really been spilled.”
“But any way,” Bluff continued, bound to find some cause for the gloomy feelings that clung like a wet blanket, “we’ll never be able to run our iceboats back home. Chances are we’ll have to drag them most of the way.”
“All right, then,” Paul told him, “we’ll make the best of a bad bargain. If you only look hard enough, Bluff and Sandy, you’ll find the silver lining to every cloud. And no matter how the storm upsets some of our plans we ought to be thankful we’ve got such a snug shelter, and plenty of good things to eat—thanks to Mr. Garrity.”
“Yes, that’s what I just had in mind, Paul,” spoke up Bobolink. “Now, you all needn’t begin to grin at me when I say that. I was thinking more about the fellows who may be shivering and hungry, than of our own well-fed crowd.”
“Oh! The Lawsons!” exclaimed Bluff. “That’s a fact. While we’re having such a royal time of it here they may be up against it good and hard.”
Perhaps all of the boys had from time to time allowed their thoughts to stray away, and mental pictures of the Lawson crowd suffering from hunger and cold intruded upon their minds. They forgot whatever they chanced to be doing at that moment, and came around Paul.
“In one way it would serve them right if they did get a little rough experience,” observed Spider Sexton, who perhaps had suffered more at the hands of the Stanhope bully and his set than any of the other scouts.
“Oh, that sort of remark hardly becomes you, Spider,” Paul reminded him. “If you remember some of the rules and regulations to which you subscribed when joining the organization you’ll find that scouts have no business to feel bitter toward any one, especially when the fellows they look on as enemies may be suffering.”
“Excuse me, Paul, I guess I spoke without thinking,” said Spider, with due humility. “And to prove it I’m going to suggest that we figure out some way we might be of help to Hank and his lot.”
“That’s more like it, Spider!” the scout-master exclaimed, as though pleased. “None of us fancy those fellows, because so far we’ve failed to make any impression on them. Several times we’ve tried to make an advance, but they jeered at us, and seemed to think it was only fear on our part that made us try to throw a bridge across the chasm separating us. It’s going to be different if, as we half believe, they’re in serious trouble.”
“But Paul, what could we do to help them?” demanded Bluff.
“With this storm raging to beat the band,” added Tom Betts, “it would be as much as our lives were worth to venture out. Why, you can’t see ten feet away; and we’d be going around in a circle until the cold got us in the end.”
“Hold on, fellows, don’t jump at conclusions so fast,” Paul warned them. “I’d be the last one to advise going out into the woods with the storm keeping up. But Tolly Tip told me the snow stopped hours ago. What we see whirling around is only swept by the wind, for it’s as dry as powder you know. And even the wind seems to be dying down now, and is blowing in spasms.”
“Paul, you’re right, as you nearly always are,” Jack affirmed, after he had pressed his nose against the cold glass of the little window. “And say! will you believe me when I say that I can see a small patch of blue sky up yonder—big enough to make a Dutchmen’s pair of breeches?”
“Hurrah! that settles the old blizzard then!” cried Sandy Griggs. “You all remember, don’t you, the old saying, ‘between eleven and two it’ll tell you what it’s going to do?’ I’ve seen it work out lots of times.”
“Yes,” retorted Jud, “and fail as often in the bargain. That’s one of the exploded signs. When they come out right you believe in ’em, and when they miss, why you just forget all about it, and go on hoping. But in this case I reckon the old storm must have blown itself about out, and we can look for a week of cold, clear weather now.”
“We’ll wait until after lunch,” said Paul, in his decided fashion that the boys knew so well; “then, if things brighten up, we’ll see what we can do. Those fellows must be suffering, more or less, and it’s our duty to help them, no matter whether they bother to thank us or not.”
“Scouts don’t want thanks when they do their duty,” said Phil Towns, grandly. “But I suppose you’ll hardly pick me out as one of the rescue party, Paul?”
“I’d rather have the hardiest fellows along with me, Phil,” replied the scout-master, kindly; “though I’m glad to know you feel willing to serve. It counts just as much to want to go, as to be allowed to be one of the number.”
Bobolink especially showed great delight over the possibility of their setting out to relieve the enemy in distress. A dozen times he went to the door and passed out, under the plea that they might as well have plenty of wood in the cabin; but on every occasion upon his return he would report the progress of the clearing skies.
“Have the sun shining right away now, boys,” he finally announced, with a beaming face. “And the wind’s letting up, more or less. Times are when you can see as far as a hundred feet. And say! it’s a wonderful sight let me tell you.”
Noon came and they sat down to the lunch that had been prepared for them, this time by Frank and Spider, Bobolink having begged off. The sun was shining in a dazzling way upon the white-coated ground. It looked like fairyland the boys declared, though but little of the snow had remained on the oaks, beeches and other forest trees, owing to the furious and persistent wind.
The hemlocks, however, were bending low with the weight that pressed upon their branches. Some of the smaller ones looked like snow pyramids, and it was plain to be seen that during the remainder of the winter most of this snow was bound to hang on.
“If we only had a few pairs of snow-shoes like Tolly Tip’s here,” suggested Bobolink, enthusiastically, “we might skim along over ten-foot drifts, and never bother about things.”
“Yes,” Jud told him, a bit sarcastically, “if we knew just how to manage the bally things, we might. But it isn’t so easy as you think. Most of us would soon be taking headers, and finding ourselves upside down. It’s a trick that has to be learned; and some fellows never can get the hang, I’ve been told.”
“Well, there’s no need of our talking about it,” interposed Paul, “because there’s only one pair of snow-shoes in the cabin, and all of us can’t wear those. But Tolly Tip says we’re apt to find avenues swept in the snow by the wind, where we can walk for the most part on clear ground, with but few drifts to wade through.”
“It may make a longer journey av the same,” the old woodsman explained; “but if luck favors us we’ll git there in due time, I belave, if so be ye settle on goin’.”
Nothing could hold the scouts back, it seemed. This idea of setting forth to succor an enemy in distress had taken a firm hold upon their imaginations.
Besides, those days when they were shut up in the storm-besieged cabin had been fearfully long to their active spirits, and on this account, too, they welcomed the chance to do something.
There could no longer be any doubt that the storm had blown itself out, for the sky was rapidly clearing. The air remained bitter cold, and Paul advised those whom he selected to accompany him to wrap themselves up with additional care, for he did not wish to have them take the chance of frosting their toes and their noses.
Those who were fortunate enough to be drafted for the trip were Jack, Jud, Bobolink and Tom Betts. Some of the others felt slighted, but tried to be as cheerful over their disappointment as possible.
Of course, Tolly Tip was to accompany them, for he would not have allowed the boys to set out without his guidance, under such changed and really hazardous conditions. A trained woodsman would be necessary in order to insure the boys against possible disaster in the storm-bound forest.
Well bundled up, and bearing packs on their backs consisting in the main of provisions, the six started off, followed by the cheers and good wishes of their comrades, and were soon lost to view amidst the white aisles of the forest.