for the young hunters. They were constantly looking at them. Somewhere
up among the gloomy caverns was hidden the savage creature which they
pursued. Several times they imagined they actually saw it moving
clumsily about among the rocks. They were anxious to begin the long,
slippery climb up the mountain. Eager and impatient, they began to
fasten on their snowshoes before Ben had finished his after-dinner pipe.
Finally they started slowly on the wearisome climb. In many places the
side of the mountain was so steep that the climbers were compelled to
lift one snowshoe over the other. At first Ed and George scrambled
along in front of Ben. But after several tumbles and a few wild,
toboggan-like slides they were content to go more slowly, and they
remained behind the guide.
Up and up they climbed, until their hearts pumped wildly, their temples
throbbed, and perspiration trickled down their faces. Often they were
forced to stop for breath. Then they hurried nervously after Ben,
fearful lest he should arrive at the summit before them and get first
shot at the bear.
Here and there he showed them where the heavy beast had lost its
footing in the slippery snow. It had slid for some distance down the
steep incline. Then it had recovered, and in a few desperate bounds
regained the lost ground and proceeded on its way.
Finally they arrived at the foot of the big ledges, and they faced more
trouble. The passes to the top were difficult and dangerous. And as the
boys were entirely inexperienced in the sort of work before them, Ben
halted and spent some time studying out a safe way to the summit.
He concluded that the bear itself had chosen the best route. Ordering
the lads to remove their snowshoes and sling them over their backs,
he led the way cautiously up the face of the cliff, along the narrow,
uncertain trail marked out by the bear.
At some spots the ledge on which they walked was less than a foot wide.
The boys had many misgivings for their safety as they worked their way
gingerly along. They tried to imagine what might happen should they
suddenly come face to face with the wounded bear in so perilous a
place. The idea was far from pleasant, and they grasped their rifles
more tightly.
“There he is!” Ben cried, suddenly, pointing indefinitely to the jumble
of loose rock above.
The lads started in spite of themselves, and Ed, in his excitement,
barely escaped a tumble from the narrow trail.
“Where is he?” they inquired, their eyes staring wildly at the rocks.
“Don’t you see where his trail turns here and goes into the opening
under that big leaning rock?” inquired Ben.
The boys said they saw it; but they had been expecting to see the
animal itself.
“You’ll not see him till we poke him out,” laughed Ben, “and then,
maybe, you’ll see too much of him. But come on, we may as well begin
the festivities.” And, followed by the lads, he began a cautious
advance toward the den.
In front of the dark hole beneath the rocks was a level platform
several feet wide. The snow all about was trampled down, and Ben
thought the animal had taken up its winter quarters there. How to get
it out was the question, and he longed for the help of old Moze.
But wishing would do no good, and he looked for something with which
to poke out the bear. Seeing a small sapling which had fallen from the
top of the ledge and lodged among the rocks, he climbed nimbly up and
brought it down.
Suddenly one deep growl after another echoed from the den. Ben dropped
the pole and stood back, with rifle cocked, watching for the bear.
“Guess we won’t have to stir him up after all, boys; like as not
he’s heard us moseying around out here, and he’s coming outside to
investigate. You want to shoot as soon as you see him, and then watch
out, ’cause he’s liable to be a mite peevish.”
The boys were trembling with excitement. There was no chance for a
retreat. Gripping their rifles and setting their teeth, they made up
their minds to give a good account of themselves, whatever happened.
The growling continued, but the bear refused to come out. After waiting
some minutes in keen suspense, Ben picked up a small rock and hurled it
into the den. An angry snarl followed, and the sound of scuffling, as
though the brute had struck savagely at the missile. They waited a few
moments longer, hoping that it would appear. Then Ben tossed another
stone.
This time a louder roar came from the den, and with startled eyes the
boys saw the snarling face of the bear before them.
“Shoot!” yelled Ben.
Before they could obey, the wounded animal rushed from the cave.
Straight at them it came, with flashing eyes and snapping jaws. In an
effort to stop its murderous charge, the guide, with no time to bring
his rifle to shoulder, fired with the weapon held at his hip.
At his warning cry the boys sprang aside. Then, as it rushed past, the
bear struck out with one huge paw and sent George over backward and
off the narrow ledge. Struggling for a hold with feet or hands, he
went sliding down the steep face of the icy cliff. Luckily, he fell
on his back, and the snowshoes strapped to his shoulders served for a
toboggan. Down he went bumping along at railroad speed. Rocks followed,
bounding behind him, and several narrowly missed his head. At last he
brought up with a shock against a projecting boulder half-way down the
long, steep slope. Dazed and dizzy, the lad threw his arms about it and
held on for life.
[Illustration: THE BEAR STRUCK OUT WITH ONE HUGE PAW AND SENT GEORGE
OVER BACKWARD]
High above him he heard two shots ring out in rapid succession. He was
taking some consolation in the thought that Ben and Ed had killed
the bear when a great sliding of rocks caused him to look up. Then his
heart almost ceased beating, for there was the enraged brute coming
down the slide directly upon him. His rifle was at the den; and, scared
and helpless, he crouched there on the snow-covered incline, entirely
at the mercy of the bear.
A hoarse shout sounded from above, and a shot quickly followed. George
instinctively dodged behind a rock as he heard the bullet sing past his
head. Another report sounded from the summit. The bear half turned,
rose unsteadily on its hind legs, clawed the air wildly, and rolled
down to within a few feet of George.
After a few spasmodic twitches of its powerful muscles, the great
creature became motionless. Then George noted that it bled from three
distinct wounds, and he wondered if there had been a serious mix-up,
and how his friends had fared in the encounter. The slope on which he
found himself was very steep, and offered few footholds. He dared not
move from his cramped position for fear of plunging to destruction on
the sharp rocks far below. How he was to get out of this he did not
know, but he felt sure that Ben would find a way.
Finally he saw the head and shoulders of the guide leaning over the
edge of the rock platform. Then Ed appeared, and George felt relieved
to know that neither had been seriously mauled by the bear.
Ben studied the angle of the slide for some time, and realized that the
position of his young charge was a precarious one. The unfortunate lad
had lodged at about the steepest place of the rocky descent. He was in
the middle of the long slope. The distance to be traversed was equally
long and hazardous, whether he chose to climb up or slide down, in his
effort to escape. Ben pondered the situation calmly. He finally decided
that it would be easier for the boy to make his way carefully to the
bottom than it would be to risk a climb toward the rocky rim from which
he had fallen.
Under Ben’s guidance George worked his way, an inch at a time, toward
a mass of small boulders to his left. It was slow, dangerous work. Had
it not been that the guide constantly shouted encouragement, it is
doubtful if he could have accomplished the difficult feat.
The cold perspiration came out on his brow, and his knees grew weak
when he foolishly disobeyed instructions and glanced into the depths
below. One such look was sufficient, and after that he kept his eyes
fixed on his goal. At last he reached the boulders and sank down among
them to rest.
“Fine! You’re all right,” Ben called down, cheerfully. “Why, you’re
a born mountaineer. Now work down between those rocks, and after you
leave them keep in a line with that small tree by the side of that big
rock. If you slip, flop over on your back and use your feet for brakes.
Remember, slow and easy, and keep behind the tree. Now then, go ahead!”
he commanded.
Once more George moved along on his perilous journey, slipping and
sliding down from one boulder to another. Finally he reached the last
and halted. He dreaded to venture across the almost perpendicular face
of slippery rock which he must cross to gain the shelter of the tree.
For an instant George hesitated, and regretted that he had come on the
trip at all. In another second he was laughing at himself for being
afraid; and, setting his teeth, he started cautiously down the incline.
“Look out! Look out!” warned Ben; but it was too late. “Use your feet!
Use your feet!”
George had lost his footing! With a wild yell he went speeding down
the long, smooth slope of rock. By clever work with his legs and feet
he managed to steer his body out of the way of the rocks in his path.
The shouts from Ben and Ed grew fainter. He saw the little tree flash
past him, and reached forth to grasp it. Then it seemed as though he
had thrust his face into a mammoth pincushion.
When he opened his eyes some time later, he found himself in the top
of a fallen spruce at the bottom of the slide. His clothes were almost
torn from his body, and he was cut and bruised about the face, arms,
and limbs. Freeing himself from the entangling branches, George, though
stiff and sore, felt quite happy when he found that no bones had been
broken.
His alarmed companions watched him go sliding down to what seemed
certain injury or possible death. They ran hurriedly back over the
trail they had toiled up a few hours earlier, and by the time George
had clambered from the tree-top they were working their way rapidly
along the base of the mountain in search of him.
“Do you think he’s badly hurt?” called Ed, as they hurried along.
“Wouldn’t wonder,” replied Ben, grimly.
When they finally reached him, George was calmly picking splinters from
his hands and arms.
“Are you badly done for?” cried Ed, making his way to the side of his
friend.
“No, indeed,” George assured him, and he tried to coax a smile to his
pallid face. “I’m only scraped a little and pretty sore. But say, I’m
glad it’s all over!”
“Come over here and let me feel you,” Ben commanded.
He proceeded to examine him carefully for broken bones or dislocations,
and, failing to find evidences of either, the guide gave a loud whoop
of delight.
“You’re tough as nails, young fellow; I wouldn’t care about taking that
slide myself.”
“But look at the snowshoes!” said George, sadly, as he exhibited the
mass of dangling thongs.
“We’ll patch them up all right,” Ben promised.
“And where is my rifle?” asked the shaken young hunter.
“Right here,” said Ed, handing it to him.
“And the bear-skin; what about that?” inquired George, looking up the
steep grade down which he had so lately tumbled.
“Guess we’ll have to leave him there to decorate the landscape,”
answered Ben. “That is, unless Ed wishes to climb up after him.” And he
winked at George. “But I’m sorry to kill anything and not use it.”
“No, thank you. Anyhow, he doesn’t belong to me. I didn’t shoot him.”
Ed laughed.
“Then you shot him, Ben,” said George, extending his hand to the guide.
“Yes; you see, Ben wouldn’t allow me to shoot because you were directly
in line with the bear,” Ed explained.
When he heard this George decided to say nothing about the first
bullet, which had passed so near his head.
“Well, it was certainly great work, and I’m very much obliged to you
fellows for saving me the trouble of killing the bear with my fist,” he
laughed.
Realizing that George was in poor shape for the long journey to the
cabin, Ben proposed that they look around for a suitable camping-site,
build a lean-to, and remain where they were until next day.
George promptly declared that he was perfectly able to stand the trip,
and said he would much prefer returning to the cabin. He accepted
Ben’s snowshoes only after much persuasion, and, with the guide ahead
carrying the broken ones, they started forth on the exhausting journey
to camp.
It was a party of tired hunters that stumbled through the doorway of
the little cabin long after dark. Ben dropped his pack to the floor
and pulled the wet, snow-laden moccasins from his tired feet. He had
tramped the entire distance through three or more feet of half-frozen
snow, and the steel-like muscles of his sturdy legs were stiff and
sore. The boys were thoroughly exhausted and much disappointed at
losing the bear-skin.
XII LOST!
There had been a light snowfall, and this fresh covering recorded the
tracks of the wild things of the woods. The old snow beneath was frozen
hard, and walking was possible without snowshoes. The clear, cold air
was fragrant with the perfume of the pines. It was a day for outdoor
work, and the boys determined to follow up some of the freshly made
tracks. Ben was busy about the cabin, and they decided to start alone.
They felt confident they could find their way back by simply returning
on their own trail.
Provided with a lunch and armed with rifle and shotgun, they made their
way to the lake and walked slowly along its border, on the alert for
the first fresh trail. Ben had given them matches and a small camp
ax, and had cautioned them to choose a familiar landmark and fix it
in their minds, so they would have no trouble in finding camp. Also
he told them to remember how many hills, or ridges, they ascended
and crossed, that they might know how many to descend and recross
on the return journey; he bade them note the position of the sun
when starting, and carefully explained the use and importance of the
compass, and compelled them to take their exact bearings before they
left. Then, bidding the lads return before dark and telling them to
fire the distress signal if they got into trouble, he said good-by.
“Here’s a track, and it’s a fresh one, too! It goes right across the
lake, I guess,” cried Ed, after they had traveled quite a distance.
“What made it?” inquired George, stooping to examine the clear-cut
footprints.
“I’m not sure, but I’d say a fox,” replied Ed, with the manner of an
expert.
“Well, we can easily find out by following it far enough,” declared
George. “Let’s start after it and see what we can learn.”
They followed the trail, which led them in a straight line out across
the middle of the lake toward the opposite shore. At one place they saw
where the animal had dug down through the thin coating of snow to drink
from a small air-hole beneath.
“How did he know it was there?” asked Ed, in wonder.
“I’m sure I don’t know; smelled it, maybe.”
When the trail reached the other side, it did not enter the timber, as
the boys supposed it would; it turned and continued closely along the
edge of the ice toward the swamp at the head of the lake. They hurried
on eagerly, watching far ahead for a sign of the animal itself. Several
times it had stopped to overturn small logs in its search for prey.
From what Ben had told them of the fox, they felt they were on the
trail of that wily creature. When they reached the swamp they became
quite sure. They saw that the tracks led up to, around, and over each
snow-covered muskrat house. They knew that the fox hunted those little
brown animals during the winter. Then, after hovering about the borders
of the swamp, the trail turned at a sharp angle and plunged into the
shadows of the morass beneath the giant pines and hemlocks.
While on the lake the boys had not looked at the compass. But now that
the trail was taking them from the familiar home ground, Ed took their
bearings. The tracks led off almost due north, and, noting the fact, he
replaced the compass in his pocket and bade George follow him into the
gloomy swamp.
It was difficult trailing in there, and many times they broke through
the half-frozen footing and sank into icy water up to their knees.
The trail doubled and circled and wound in and out among the bushes
and small evergreens, till the compass was of little use. They were
changing their course every few yards. Ed thought if they kept the
direction of the lake in their minds they would have no trouble getting
out.
At one spot a crimson place on the snow and some small bits of rabbit
fur told the story of a woodland tragedy. The boys saw where the fox
had stolen upon an unsuspecting rabbit which had been huddled at the
foot of a weed-stalk eating the dried seeds. A sudden spring by the
agile stalker, and the doom of the rabbit had been sealed.
Then, after eating in haste, the sly red hunter had left the scene
of his crime. His trail stretched away in a straight line till the
border of the swamp was crossed, and then it continued up the side of a
brier-covered incline. Arriving at the top, the trailers saw prints in
the snow marking the spot where the fox had rested on his haunches to
gain breath after the climb.
Again Ed read the compass, and noted that they were headed east from
the edge of the swamp. They had entered an area of wild and unfamiliar
country, and they were careful to take precautions against becoming
lost.
“This is the real thing!” George declared, gazing about him in
admiration.
“It certainly is; I--” began Ed.
“What’s that?” George interrupted, inclining his head to listen.
From somewhere a long distance off to the right sounded the yelps,
howls, and whines of a baying pack. Weird and unnatural, the noise rang
through the wilderness, and the boys looked at each other in alarm.
“The wild dogs!” Ed gasped, inspecting the breach of his rifle.
“Wonder if they’re coming this way?” said George, uneasily.
For some seconds the lads sat listening to the music of the outlaws,
and they were thankful when it finally grew faint and died away.
“Maybe they’re after our fox,” laughed George, as they started along
the trail.
“More likely some poor deer,” replied Ed, again consulting the compass,
when the tracks veered sharply in the direction of the fierce baying.
“Wonder if that fool fox has gone over there and stirred up trouble?”
grumbled Ed.
“Well, if he has, we’re in for another experience, and a real one,
I’ll bet,” declared George.
Presently the trail brought them to a stretch of rocky ground from
which most of the snow had melted. Tracking became more difficult, and
they finally lost the trail. They seated themselves on a boulder and
spoke in uncomplimentary terms of the animal that had enticed them all
that distance, to leave them baffled on a desolate rock-strewn hillside.
“There’s only one thing to do,” said Ed, as he placed the compass on a
flat rock.
“What?” demanded George.
“Why, go to the edge of this rocky strip and work around it till we
strike his tracks in the snow along its border. He must have gone out
somewhere; and if he didn’t, we know he’s hiding in here among some of
these rocks.”
“That’s a good idea; we’ll try it,” George agreed.
“Look at the rabbit; there it goes!” cried Ed, and he hurried toward a
big rock, George stumbling along behind him.
There were many scattered boulders, all very similar in appearance.
When the boys reached the one where they thought the rabbit was hiding
they saw the little creature jump from behind a rock farther on and go
leaping away into a wooded ravine.
“We’ll get him, just for luck,” cried George; and, holding his shotgun
ready, he led the way down into the swale where the rabbit had
disappeared.
They ran upon a covey of grouse, and George killed one on the first
rise. Highly elated, they followed the birds. The next time they
thundered into flight, Ed, who had taken the shotgun, shot another.
“This beats tracking foxes and rabbits,” declared George.
Urged on by their enthusiasm, the boys rashly entered the confines of
an unknown swamp into which the covey had flown. Another rise, and a
miss. Then two of the birds flew into a tree and perched with their
necks stretched, motionless as the limb on which they stood. It was a
chance for Ed with his rifle, and he killed one by shooting off its
head. George got the other with the shotgun as it flew from the branch.
Well satisfied with their luck, they continued into the swamp; but,
though they hunted everywhere, they were unable to find the balance
of the covey. In their search they twisted and turned in an uncertain
course, until they arrived in the very center of a marshy strip where
they had left no trail.
“I never thought of taking the direction when we came in here,” said
Ed, suddenly feeling in his pocket for the compass. He stopped, and a
look of alarm flashed into his face.
“What’s the matter?” asked George.
“I’ve left the compass back on the rock.”
For a moment neither spoke, though each was doing a large amount of
thinking. The seriousness of the situation dawned upon them, and they
realized that they must think calmly, and not become frightened and
confused.
“That’s all right,” laughed George; “we’ll get out of here and go back
and look for it.” And he started splashing his way through the marsh.
“Hold on!” commanded Ed. “Which side did we come in at? You know we’ve
done a lot of turning and changing of direction, and I’m a bit mixed.”
“I’m not. Come on, I’ll show you exactly where we came in. It’s right
over here a little ways,” declared George, confidently.
Ed followed him with many misgivings. They waded through cold,
ice-coated pools, stumbled over great fallen logs, tore their way
through thorny thickets, and with all their exertions only seemed to
get deeper into the swamp.
“We’re wrong,” declared Ed, when they had gone some distance in that
uncertain manner. “If we had been traveling in the proper direction
we’d have come to the base of that rocky hillside long ago.”
“I guess you’re right; seems to me we’ve walked a mile or more, and
still there’s no sign of our getting out.”
“Well, there’s no use rushing about this way,” said Ed, glancing at his
watch. “It’s past noon now; here is a little spring; let’s sit down
beside it and eat our lunch and try to figure where we are.”
They sat down and brought out the lunch. Somehow the idea of their
imprisonment in this big, dimly lighted place affected their appetites,
and neither ate much. To make matters worse, the sun disappeared behind
a mass of cold, gray clouds, and a chill wind gave promise of snow.
“Come on, let’s get out of here; we can eat when we get home,” urged
George, springing to his feet and starting off.
“Won’t you wait a second?” Ed called after him, a bit impatiently.
“There is only one way to get out of here quickly, and that is for us
to try and think which side we came in. We’ve been getting deeper into
this mess, and if we just rush around we’ll be lost more than ever.”
“Right you are, Ed,” agreed George, for he readily saw the wisdom of
this. “We’ll sit down again and try to remember how we got here.”
They sat for a long time endeavoring to trace their journey back, step
by step, to the place where they had first entered the swamp. At last
they agreed on a general direction, and, rising, they started off.
“We’ll keep walking until we come to the edge of it, no matter which
side we come out on,” declared Ed, after they had toiled along for some
distance.
Then it began to snow, and with the falling of the first flakes the
spirits of the boys began to sink. They realized that the new fall
would obliterate their back-track. With no compass to guide them, and
their old trail gone, they felt that their chance of reaching the
cabin was slim indeed. As the snow came down thicker and faster, they
redoubled their speed in response to a wild desire to get out of the
swamp before the full force of the storm broke upon them.
“I guess we’re in for it,” cried Ed, as he hurried on.
“Looks bad,” George confessed, grimly.
They soon found themselves blinded and bewildered by the swirling
flakes which beat in their faces. Valiantly they staggered along for
some distance. Then Ed, who was leading, called a halt.