halted. He pointed to a slight depression in the carpet of dead
leaves, and said it was a deer track. He explained that deer in their
journeyings traveled along the summits of these low hills, which were
then termed “runways.” Ben said that the ridge on which they stood was
one.
Leading the way to a near-by boulder, he bade one of the boys climb
to the top to watch the surrounding country for any sign of a buck.
He left it to them to decide which one would remain there. Ed said
he would stay; and, after cautioning him not to shoot until he saw
the whole body and antlers of the animal aimed at, Ben ordered him to
remain until he stopped for him on the way home. He told him, if he
succeeded in shooting a deer, to fire two shots in rapid succession
and, after a minute’s pause, two more.
Ed climbed to the top of the big rock, and sat down with his rifle
across his knees. He waved his hand to Ben and George when they turned
just before they disappeared from sight among the trees.
George was placed at another “runway,” about a mile farther on; and,
after cautioning him as he had Ed, Ben said he was going on to try to
scare out a deer. He said that anything he might start would be sure to
come over one or the other of these “runways,” and warned George to be
on his guard. Then with a wave of his arm he disappeared, and the boys
were left alone in the heart of the wilderness.
Each boy remained at his post, expectantly gazing through the aisles of
the vast forest which surrounded him. The noise of the wind through
the tops of the trees; the squeaking of a leaning pine as it rubbed
chafingly against its neighbor; the snap of a twig, or the sudden call
of a jay, caused them to start nervously.
Several times George half rose and cocked his rifle when he thought
he heard some animal walking about near him. But after watching with
straining eyes and thumping heart and seeing nothing, he relaxed and
made up his mind it must have been the wind, or a squirrel scurrying
about among the leaves.
Suddenly a shot sounded from the direction in which he guessed Ed to
be, and George jumped to his feet. Another roared through the woods a
moment later, and echoed loudly between the mountains. For a minute or
so all was still. Then two reports rang out in rapid succession and,
after a minute, two more!
“Gee whiz! Something is up!” declared George, aloud. He wished he might
find Ed and learn the cause of the shots, but he dared not leave the
place until Ben came for him. He doubted if he would be able to find
the way to his friend; and, as the guide had forbidden him to leave the
spot, he sat down to await developments.
Ed became hungry and brought out his lunch. He was just about to bite
into one of the appetizing sandwiches when the sharp crackling of twigs
close by caused him to drop it and seize his rifle.
Then a loud, frightened snort drew his attention, and, looking in the
direction from whence it came, he beheld a big buck standing broadside
to him. Its head was turned to look at him; the great ears were thrown
forward and moved nervously about; and the sensitive muzzle twitched
apprehensively as the dreaded man-scent came to it on the breeze.
For a moment Ed was helpless, and stood gazing with surprised,
startled eyes at the magnificent creature before him. Then he managed
to recover, and quickly brought up his rifle. He aimed where Ben had
told him to, behind the shoulder, and with trembling fingers pressed
the trigger. At the report the buck made a tremendous leap, fell to
its knees, recovered, and bounded away. He fired again, this time at
random, and the deer crashed from sight into the heavy timber.
“Wouldn’t that make you sick?” cried Ed, disgustedly, as he sat down
and wiped the beads of nervous perspiration from his brow. “I must have
hit him, or he wouldn’t have tumbled down,” he assured himself.
Then he remembered the signal and rose and fired the four shots, two at
a time, which would bring Ben and the proper advice.
After what seemed a very long time, he heard another sound near at hand
and cocked his rifle. He uncocked the weapon a moment later when he was
hailed by Ben and George.
“I got a shot, and I think I hit him!” he cried, as he ran to meet them.
“Where is he?” Ben asked, quietly, after he had cautioned George, who
had begun to whoop.
“He went off that way,” explained Ed, pointing in the proper direction.
A look of disappointment came over the face of the guide, and George at
once subsided into gloomy silence.
“I hit him, I tell you,” Ed declared, emphatically. “He fell and then
jumped up and ran off.”
“Where was he standing?” Ben asked, a bit more hopefully.
Ed got his bearings from the rock on which he had been sitting, and
went over to about where he thought the buck had been when he had fired
at it.
Ben stooped over and scanned the ground closely in a wide circle. He
was silent for some minutes while thus engaged; then he straightened,
laughing, and pointed to a low bush beside them.
“You hit him, sure, and hit him hard,” he declared. “And we’ll get
him--he’s shot through the lungs!”
The boys looked at the bush and saw several red splashes on its brown
leaves. Following close behind Ben, who was crouching along near to the
ground, they saw other darker spots at their feet.
“He won’t run very far. I started him in a swamp. Just got a glimpse of
him as I was crawling under a fallen tree-top, and couldn’t shoot,” Ben
explained.
“My, he’s big!” said Ed.
“Better not talk any more now,” the guide cautioned them, looking
keenly ahead.
They crossed a brook, and when they reached the opposite side there was
a rustling of undergrowth. The lads cocked their rifles and the buck
jumped to its feet and stood facing them.
“Shoot!” cried Ben.
The boys brought up their rifles at the same instant, but George was
the first to pull trigger. His bullet went straight through the heart,
and the buck dropped dead.
Ben ran forward and cut its throat with his hunting-knife. He
complimented the lads on their good shooting, and said they must have
been practising before they came to the woods. Ed told him he had a
rifle-range in the cellar of his home, and said that George and he had
engaged in many contests.
The guide showed them how to cut a slit in the flesh of the deer’s hind
legs and insert a stout stick from one leg to the other to spread them
apart. He called it a gambrel and briefly explained its use. Then, with
their assistance, he raised the carcass by aid of poles. The deer once
swung up, Ben quickly cut it open and removed its entrails. He put
aside the liver, which he promised to cook for breakfast.
He would have skinned the buck, but twilight was fast gathering, and
they must choose a suitable camp-site and build some sort of a shelter
for the night. Therefore he decided to leave the deer hung up until
daylight, when he could remove the hide and quarter the carcass.
They washed in the clear, cold water of a little stream. Then Ben began
his search for a camping-place. At last he found a spot to his liking
on top of a pine-clad knoll. He led the boys to it, and bade them slip
their packs.
Ben looked around until he found two trees growing on a parallel line,
about six feet apart. He cut a pole about an inch wider than the space
between their trunks. After cutting some notches in the pole’s upper
side, he placed it between the trees and drove it down until it became
securely wedged about six feet from the ground. Next he cut and trimmed
two logs, each about eight feet long and some five inches through. He
placed them on the ground, one extending back from the base of each
tree.
At his order the boys had cut some long straight poles, about two
inches in diameter. They were placed against the notched ridge-pole
between the trees, the end of each pole fitting nicely into the notch
cut to hold it, and the lower end resting on the ground some eight or
ten feet back.
They had the roof, sides, and door of the lean-to completed, and
were ready to go on with the “shingling,” under Ben’s directions. He
bade them cut many armfuls of balsam and hemlock branches. These he
dexterously wove between the roof-poles until he had made a thick
covering, or mat, over their little shelter. Then he placed small trees
and branches against the sides.
When the boys returned, each with a back-load of balsam tips for
bed-making, they were astonished to find a cozy bough-house ready for
them. The delicious aroma of fried bacon rose from the pan which Ben
was shaking over a bed of glowing coals. Hastily throwing their boughs
inside the shelter, the two hungry young hunters sat down to supper.
That night they made a big camp-fire, for the autumn air was chill. As
the flames leaped and danced and threw a circle of orange-colored light
into the dark, somber woods, the lads sat on a great log and listened
attentively to Ben, who told them tales of the forest.
Finally the fire died low and the blackness crept in upon the little
group before the shelter. Ben rose and declared it was time to turn
in. By the aid of the lantern they made their beds of boughs, rolled
themselves in their blankets, put out the light, and soon drifted off
to sleep.
George was awakened by the hooting of an owl in a tree close by, and
lay for some time listening to the mournful serenade. He heard the
deep, heavy breathing of the guide, and knew he was slumbering soundly.
Ed did not stir, and he was sure that he, too, was far away in the
“land of nod.” The bird continued its dismal hooting; and then, as the
fire flickered into new life for a moment, an idea seized the waker.
George rose and slipped noiselessly from his blankets. Then he felt
around until he had secured his rifle, and, once in possession of it,
he stole quietly out into the darkness.
The owl ceased calling, and the sleepy young hunter strained his eyes
in an effort to locate it. Then again came the mocking call, and it
seemed to the eager youth as he stood there peering aloft into the dark
that the uncanny bird was actually laughing at him.
The fire again flared up and sent its flickering shafts of light high
into the surrounding tree-tops. This was the opportunity for George
to get his shot. Boldly outlined on the limb sat the owl. George took
quick but accurate aim and pulled the trigger as the owl started to
vacate its illuminated perch.
The report of the rifle reverberated through the silent woods like the
crash of thunder. Awakened by the noise, Ed and the guide sat up just
as the owl crashed through the branches and sailed headlong into the
lean-to. Its heavy body struck Ed squarely in the face and tumbled him
over backward with the force of the blow.
“What in tarnation has happened?” cried Ben, leaping from his blankets
and grabbing the lantern.
“There’s something in here!” yelled Ed, rushing from the shelter.
“Where’s George? He’s gone!” he cried, in alarm.
George was helpless with laughter at the results of his shot. When Ben
had lighted the lantern and discovered the owl lying on the blankets,
the guilty marksman appeared, grinning broadly.
“Well, say, young feller, you certainly stirred things up considerable
for this time of the night,” said Ben, as he threw the dead owl at the
disturber of his dreams.
“Why didn’t you wake me?” protested Ed.
“Thought I did,” laughed George, unloading his rifle and crawling
beneath his blankets. “Will you show me how to skin the owl, Ben?” he
asked, meekly.
“Sure I will,” promised the guide; and then he extinguished the lantern
and ordered the boys to go to sleep.
V A FOREST FIRE
When the boys awakened it was daylight; and, to their surprise, Ben was
missing from the camp. They looked for him outside, but, not finding
him, decided he had gone to skin and quarter the deer. They busied
themselves with making a fire, that it might be ready for the guide to
cook breakfast over when he returned.
“It looks foggy,” suggested Ed, gazing off between the trees.
“That’s not fog, it’s smoke!” George declared, sniffing the air
suspiciously. “Don’t you smell it?”
“Right you are, son,” said Ben, coming into camp at that moment
carrying the head, skin, and fore quarters of the deer. “It’s smoke,
and I don’t like it a little bit. There’s a forest fire not a great
ways off, and we better mosey toward the cabin. We’ll hustle through
breakfast and then travel on,” he declared, uneasily.
The boys helped get breakfast, and when it was ready they ate rapidly
and in silence. From the way Ben consulted the sky they knew he was
anxious and worried. The sun had risen, but was obscured by a purplish
haze which he told them was smoke. Then they smelled it. The distinct
odor of burning pine was borne to them on the scant morning breeze.
The dishes were hurriedly washed and stowed away in the packs. Each of
the boys packed up as much of the deer meat as he could stagger under;
Ben added another quarter to his load, and the remainder was covered
with boughs and hung high in a tree, to be called for later. Then,
eager and anxious, Ben led them away through the smoky woods, at a
brisk pace, toward the distant cabin.
As they hurried along, the air seemed to grow heavier, and all through
the forest there drifted a hazy fog. The smell of smoke became stronger
with each mile they traveled, until Ben, in his anxiety, set a pace
that his young companions found it hard to follow.
On the top of a small mountain, which they were obliged to cross, the
guide stopped a moment and pointed out a heavy, black cloud of smoke.
It was curling up from behind a distant ridge in a direct line with
the cabin.
Then, with great strides, he raced down into the valley, the boys
stumbling along after him as best they could. Their faces and hands
were torn and scratched from thorns and briers, and their feet and
legs were bruised from contact with sharp-pointed rocks. They went on
uncomplainingly, however, for they feared that the cabin was in danger,
and they were anxious to help Ben in its defense against the oncoming
fire.
Thicker and more dense grew the smoke-clouds in the woods, and the air
became oppressive and suffocating. Tears ran down the boys’ cheeks, and
they coughed violently as the pungent smoke filled their lungs.
“Come on, you’ll get used to it soon,” called Ben, encouragingly.
They got a glimpse of the cabin through the smoke, and cried out with
delight. In the doorway stood Bill, the trapper, and down the trail
came old Moze. They were compelled to laugh when every few feet the
hound was obliged to stop and sneeze.
“I’m glad you’re here,” said Ben, greeting the trapper.
“Well, you see, there’s a nasty fire coming this way, and I knew you’d
be glad to have help to save the shack before morning; so I hustled
over.”
“If the wind would only shift around, we’d be all right,” said Ben,
gloomily.
“There’s not much wind to shift,” the trapper replied, shaking his head.
The boys sat listening while the two experienced woodsmen consulted as
to the best way of keeping the fire off. They finally agreed that the
safest course would be to back-fire the woods on all four sides of the
cabin. It would be dangerous, for the dry forest, when once kindled,
would burn like tinder. The fighters would have to work hard to prevent
their fire from turning back and consuming the cabin. To make matters
worse, the wind was momentarily strengthening, so that on two sides at
least they would be obliged to drive their back-fire into the face of
it. But nothing was to be gained by delay, and they began the fight at
once.
Ed and George were sent to the lake for pails of water, while Ben and
the trapper cut a supply of white-pine boughs for use as beaters. When
the boys returned they were each given one of these pine branches and
told to wet them and beat out any encroaching patch of flame. Ed was
then detailed to the roof to beat out any sparks that might light
there. George was ordered to follow along the line of fire started by
the men, and told to keep it away from the dry log walls.
[Illustration: FIGHTING A FOREST FIRE]
By this time the smoke was so dense that they could not see one
another, and Ben cautioned George against wandering away. Great black
cinders and bits of charred wood were flying through the woods and
dropping all about them. Birds and animals, fleeing from the fire, went
by within easy reach. A deer, in its wild panic, almost ran into the
cabin, and they heard the frightened creature jump into the lake a few
seconds later. Grouse whizzed past close to their heads, and rabbits
and smaller things scurried by almost beneath their feet.
Then they heard the roar of the fire, the crackling of undergrowth, and
the crash of falling timber as the great wall of flame drew nearer.
Twilight fell early, on account of the smoke, and it was soon quite
dark. The roar of the approaching flames sounded like the noise of
an express-train. The smoke grew still thicker, and they gasped for
breath, as scorching heat-waves, like blasts from an open furnace,
swept over them.
They had started their back-fire, and George and the woodsmen were
compelled to work like demons to keep it from blowing back toward the
cabin. The wind blew the smoke and flames full into their faces as
they pounded and stamped to force the lengthening line of flame on its
windward course to grapple with the onrushing flames of the forest fire.
Ed, too, was soon in the thick of the fight, for in beating at the
fire below, the fighters on the ground sent aloft a constant shower of
sparks which found their way to the dry log roof on which he crouched.
Staggering about through the choking smoke, he beat out several patches
of fire which had started from the glowing cinders. Fiery embers seemed
to fill the air. They lit on his face and hands, and burned their way
into the flesh before he could brush them off. He was unable to see his
comrades below, and so loud had the roar of the fire become that he did
not even hear their voices. Several times he found himself on the very
edge of the roof, and he barely escaped falling off, for, blinded as he
was by the smoke, he could not see where he was.
Suddenly he felt a hand clutch his arm, and turned abruptly to find
George beside him. His eyebrows were singed, and his face streaked and
sooty.
“I’ve been calling you till I’m hoarse,” he gasped. “Thought you
might have smothered up here. Ben says the forest fire will be over
that hill in a few minutes. Say, isn’t this an experience and a half?”
he chuckled, wiping his inflamed eyes.
“What about the cabin?” Ed inquired, anxiously.
“Ben thinks it’s safe, except for the sparks and embers which he says
will be dropping like hail when the real fire goes by. He and Bill will
watch the walls, and you and I are to guard the roof. You see, our
back-fire has burned everything off around the cabin, so the forest
fire will have nothing to feed on and must go round us. Ben thinks
it will travel around the lake. Say, it’s fierce work holding that
back-fire.”
Then the woods were lighted as vividly as if thousands of great
electric lights had been suddenly turned on. The boys looked toward
the distant pine ridge in alarm, and saw a great barrier of leaping,
red-tongued flame rushing toward the little cabin, whose sole
protection was the thin line of wavering fire they had sent up the hill
to meet and combat the destroying furnace bearing down upon them.
The roar of the flames through the trees and the crackling of burning
brush echoed in their ears. Then the awful heat swept over them and
stifled their very breath as they groped their way uncertainly about
through the yellow pall of smoke.
“Here she is--lie low!” yelled Ben, from somewhere below them; but the
rest of his orders were drowned by the noise.
A host of burning embers came glowing through the smoke and alighted
on the cabin. A jet of flame started up near the peak of the roof, and
the boys dashed water on the spot. Birds struck against them, cinders
lit in their hair, and their heads reeled from the intense heat and
suffocating smoke.
“Look! Oh, look!” screamed George, hysterically, as a solid sheet
of flame flew from the top of a pitch-pine and caught again in a
neighboring tree, which it consumed with a sullen roar.
Smoke began to twist up over the edge of the roof, and they realized
that the cabin was on fire. With blanched faces and set teeth they
crawled to the spot, but were driven back by a tongue of flame which
leaped in their faces.
“She’s going, sure!” cried George, in dismay.
“Water, quick!” gasped Ed.
“The roof is on fire, too,” warned George, as he made his way boldly
toward the tiny flame that showed redly through the smoke.
“Watch the top, boys; we’ve put the fire out down here,” cried Ben.
The boys went to work with the energy of desperation, and after much
effort finally subdued the flames on the roof.
Then the two fires met, and the forest fire was checked, but in no wise
conquered. Since nothing was left to burn in front, the fire ran around
the blackened circle which protected the cabin, and went roaring and
crackling through the woods. It burned down to the water’s edge, and
they could hear it hissing with baffled rage at the shore of the lake.
When it had passed, the sparks ceased; and the boys, thoroughly
exhausted, dropped on the hot roof of the cabin, thankful for their
deliverance.
Ben crawled up and helped them down, and they staggered feebly into
the smoke-filled room below. Neither could see, and Bill and the guide
brought fresh cold water and put wet cloths over their aching eyes.
They could still hear the fire raging in the distance, and weakly
asked if it might come back. Ben hastily assured them that this was
impossible. Gradually they were able to open their eyes, and the
woodsman led them to the lake, where the air was somewhat clearer. The
ground felt hot to their feet, and on every side were black, charred
tree-trunks and glowing stumps.
Ben and the trapper were also burned and blistered, but made slight
of their ills; and, following their splendid example, the boys soon
declared that they, too, were all right.
The fire burned fiercely around the shores of the lake, and the weary
group of fighters sat in awesome silence and watched it vent its
wrath. The flames were reflected in the water, and George declared it
looked as if the whole world was afire, water and all. They saw great
flame-wrapped trees topple and fall hissing into the lake.
A deer, driven out by the approaching flames, jumped into the lake from
the opposite shore and swam directly toward them. The boys wondered
if it was the same one they had seen during the fire. The startled
creature emerged within a rod of them and staggered away in the
blackness.
They remained there until the fire, having completely circled the lake,
came together at the lower end. Joining forces, it swept up the side
and over the top of an adjoining ridge.
“Nothing to stop it for a hundred miles,” said Bill, sadly.
“Nothing,” added Ben, stooping to cool his fevered face in the water at
his feet.
They went solemnly back to the cabin, where they found Moze sound
asleep under one of the bunks.
“Don’t seem to bother him much,” laughed Bill.
The air was still densely laden with smoke, but it began to clear when
the wind freshened. Ben said they had better go to bed. The boys tossed
about for a long time, unable to close their eyes without causing
severe pain. Ben and Bill were equally restless, and only Moze seemed
able to slumber peacefully.
VI AN INTERESTING AFTERNOON
The boys slept late the next morning. When they did finally open their
smarting eyes, the sunlight was streaming through the cabin windows.
They ate a tardy breakfast which the guide had saved for them, and then
went outside to see the damage done by the fire.
Everything was black--tree-trunks, stumps, even the ground. Sticks and
twigs lying among the rocks the day before were now rows of gray ashes.
The rocks themselves were seamed and cracked from the terrific heat
that had passed over them. The foliage of the evergreens was seared and
brown. Altogether, it was a scene of desolation.
“Might have been worse,” Bill declared, after he had carefully
inspected many of the scorched tree-trunks.
“Yes, I don’t believe it hurt the big timber much,” replied Ben; “it
went through too fast.”