THE OUTDOOR CHUMS IN THE BIG WOODS
OR
The Rival Hunters of Lumber Run
BY
CAPTAIN QUINCY ALLEN
Author of “The Outdoor Chums,”
“The Outdoor Chums on a Houseboat,” etc.
ILLUSTRATED
The Goldsmith Publishing Company
New York, N. Y.
Made in USA
Copyright, 1915, by
GROSSET & DUNLAP
CONTENTS
I—The Snowball Battle
II—A Broken Window, and Glorious News
III—Getting Ready
IV—Headed for the Big Woods
V—Among the Lumberjacks
VI—The Lone Cabin
VII—Out for Game
VIII—Fur and Feathers
IX—The Wonderland of Maine
X—The Flashlight Picture
XI—Facing Trouble
XII—Bluff Takes a Hand
XIII—Another Hunt for Venison
XIV—The Victim of the Bear Trap
XV—A Cook Stampede
XVI—Did Teddy Know?
XVII—The Big Moose
XVIII—On the Trail
XIX—The Hour of Triumph
XX—Robbed of the Spoils
XXI—A Camp in the Snow
XXII—The Gray-Coated Pirate from Canada
XXIII—When Morning Came
XXIV—The Triumphant Return
XXV—Bluff Remembers—Conclusion
THE OUTDOOR CHUMS IN THE BIG WOODS
CHAPTER I
THE SNOWBALL BATTLE
“That looks like a challenge, Frank.”
“It was well fired, at any rate, Bluff!”
“I should say yes, because it knocked my hat clear off my head. Do we
stand for that sort of thing, or shall we accept the dare?”
“There are half a dozen and more of the enemy against four Outdoor
Chums, but what of that? This is the first snow of the fall, with a
real tang in the air. Say yes, Frank, and let’s get busy!”
“Here are Bluff and Jerry ready to eat up that crowd in a snowball
fight. What do you say, Will?”
“Oh, count me in, because I can see they’re just spoiling for it!”
exclaimed the fourth boy in the party, who did not look quite so hardy
as his comrades, although no weakling.
“Well, I should think it’d be a shame to miss it, when the snow is
just soft enough to handle easily,” and Jerry Wellington held up a big
round ball he had quickly manipulated in his practiced hands.
“That settles it. Everybody get busy making a supply of ammunition.
Then we’ll charge their line, and give them as good as they send!”
The last speaker was Frank Langdon. His three comrades had always been
proud to look up to Frank as their leader. They had been through a
great many lively adventures together, and up to the present no one
had ever found cause to regret the fact that when it came to deciding
on their plans Frank’s word carried the greatest weight.
While they are feverishly stocking up with a supply of such ammunition
as is required to win snowball battles, it might be well for the new
reader to learn a few important facts concerning Frank and his chums,
as narrated in previous volumes of this series.
They lived in the thriving town of Centerville, which was situated in
one of the Middle States. Coming together in order to encourage the
spirit of outdoor life, to their mutual profit, the four lively lads
had called their little association the Rod, Gun, and Camera Club. In
the initial story, under the name of “The Outdoor Chums; or, The First
Tour of the Rod, Gun, and Camera Club,” were given numerous strange
happenings that befell them on the occasion of their first camping
trip together.
Later on they ran upon a mystery connected with an island that had a
bad name in the neighborhood, and of course could not rest satisfied
until they solved this puzzle to their satisfaction. In order to
understand just what they did you must read the second volume, issued
under the title of “The Outdoor Chums on the Lake; or, Lively
Adventures on Wildcat Island.”
With the coming of Easter, and another chance to get abroad, the boys
formed a plan to visit a section of country some miles from the home
town. Here they found an opportunity to clear up a ghost scare that
had been giving the country people of the neighborhood the time of
their lives. It is all told in the pages of “The Outdoor Chums in the
Forest; or, Laying the Ghost of Oak Ridge.”
Fortune was certainly kind to Frank and his chums. At Christmas time
they were given a chance to pay a visit to the Sunny South, and had
some wonderful adventures on a Florida river that ran to the Gulf.
Aboard a motorboat that belonged to a cousin of Frank’s, and which was
fully stocked with supplies, with the owner ordered to Europe for his
health, they had the time of their lives, as told of in “The Outdoor
Chums on the Gulf; or, Rescuing the Lost Balloonists.”
After this came another opportunity for a trip, this time to the Far
West, where among the mountains and valleys of that wonderful country
they found occasion to call themselves the luckiest of boys. Every one
of them had a share in the exciting adventures that came their way,
and it would be hard to tell which deserved the greatest credit for
true manliness. You will be better able to decide that point for
yourself after you have read “The Outdoor Chums after Big Game; or,
Perilous Adventures in the Wilderness.”
Again it was summer, and the boys home from college planned a voyage
down the great Mississippi on a houseboat belonging to Will’s Uncle
Felix, at the time in New Orleans. There was something very queer
about the conditions under which he proposed that they make this trip
at his expense. The boys could not understand it at all when they
started out, though anxious to accept the offer. Of course, during the
progress of their cruise, the mystery began to clear up. That Frank
and his friends carried their plans through to a climax can be proved
by reading the sixth volume, just preceding this, called “The Outdoor
Chums on a Houseboat; or, The Rivals of the Mississippi.”
And now we can return once more to the present conditions surrounding
Frank and his three chums, Will Milton, Jerry Wallingford and Bluff
Masters.
As they had been graduated a year and more previous to this time from
private school, and had had one season at college, their presence at
home with the advent of early winter needs explanation.
A fire had occurred, and part of the college buildings were in ruins.
As the dormitory in which the four chums lodged had been burned to the
ground, they lost a good part of their clothing, besides other things.
Fortunately no lives were sacrificed in the blaze.
There being no suitable place at hand where their studies could be
carried on until such time as hasty repairs were made, a portion of
the pupils had to be sent to their homes for a month or two. It was
arranged that they keep in touch with their studies and later on extra
speed might push them up to their proper standing.
So it came about that they were home and wondering what they should do
to pass away the weeks that must elapse before the summons back might
be expected. Various projects had been suggested, although they only
arrived in Centerville on the previous night; but up to the present
nothing had been decided definitely.
There was an old trapper they knew, and with whom they had spent some
happy days and nights on a previous occasion, and Frank was favoring a
return visit. At any rate, they could settle this later on.
“All ready?” demanded Frank, when he had all the hard snowballs he
could conveniently carry. The jeering cries of the six or seven boys
anticipating the attack grew more and more strenuous.
“Wait till I make two more, and I’m with you!” begged Bluff, who had
even filled his pockets with the hardest balls he could squeeze in his
powerful hands.
“There’s our old enemy, Andy Lasher, in that bunch over yonder,”
announced Jerry, who from previous fights with the one-time town bully
had occasion to know the contour of Andy’s knuckles, since they had
been printed on his face more than a few times.
“I wonder when he came back to town?” ventured Frank. “The last we
heard of him he had to skip out because of some trouble he got into
about taking things that didn’t belong to him.”
“Well, we’ve still an old score to settle with him,” observed Bluff,
“so every chance you get, give him your hardest ball. Ready now,
Frank!”
Frank led his forces to the attack.
“Hold your fire till we get close up!” he advised.
The consequence of this plan was that while they were greeted with a
shower of missiles, some of which hit the mark, when the time came to
commence a fusillade on their own account they had a full supply of
ammunition, while the other side had more than half exhausted their
stock.
It looked lively enough just then, with almost a dozen lads hurling
the snowballs with might and main. All sorts of shouts accompanied the
encounter, for of course they were pretty well aroused by the
excitement of the battle.
The big fellow whom Jerry had called Andy Lasher seemed to be the real
leader of the opposing band. Perhaps he had even organized the
ambuscade so as to get even with Frank and his chums, because there
was a long-standing account between them.
At any rate, it kept him busy dodging the cleverly aimed missiles that
flew from the hands of Bluff and Jerry. They had singled him out for
their especial attention, and at close quarters their aim was so good
that pretty soon Andy failed to move fast enough, so that he found
himself struck in the cheek, and as he started to dodge it was only to
get another whack fairly in the eye.
Some people who had been passing stopped to watch the fight. Men
remembered that they had once been boys themselves, and no doubt their
blood tingled with rekindled memories of days long since gone, as they
saw the hostile forces fiercely contending on the town street.
For a short time the entrenched battalion held its own, though Frank
knew from the way some of Andy’s followers began to look over their
shoulders that they were getting ready to retreat.
“Keep it going, boys!” he shouted to his three chums, as he scooped up
more of the soft snow and started making fresh balls; “hit hard all
along the line! We’ve got ’em wavering! Another rush, and the game is
ours! Send in your best licks, and make every shot count!”
All of them were attacking Andy now. They realized that if he could be
put to flight there must follow a complete collapse of his line;
because these fellows were only held there by the fact that they
feared Andy’s anger if they deserted him.
Andy had managed to make one last hard ball. He had even in
desperation, as was afterward proven, snatched up a stone and hid it
in the middle of the snowball he pressed between his half-frozen
hands. This is reckoned a mean trick among most boys and frowned upon
as much as hitting below the belt would be in a prize fight.
Frank saw that he had been selected as the victim of the bully. He
managed to dodge in the nick of time, and the weighted missile,
sailing across the street, smashed through the window of a house.
With the jingling of broken glass Andy Lasher gave a shout, and then
with jeers of derision he and his followers vanished from sight,
leaving the four outdoor chums to bear the brunt of the householder’s
anger.