ROBBED OF THE SPOILS
“Had we better move along out of here?” asked Jerry, as he looked
doubtfully toward the quarter whence the three sportsmen were hastily
advancing.
“What for?” demanded Bluff truculently.
“You know what Bill Nackerson threatened to do if ever the chance came
his way,” Jerry replied. “We’re outnumbered three to two.”
His words implied that had there been an even showing he might not
have thought of leaving.
Bluff knew that their best policy under the circumstances would be to
walk away and avoid any trouble with the men. He also remembered
promising Frank not to take any unnecessary chances, no matter what
came up.
At the same time, Bluff was a poor loser. By that it must not be
understood that when fairly beaten he would try to find fault and call
his defeat an accident, for Bluff was always the first to congratulate
a victor, even though he might be one of the victims. But he hated to
give anything up.
So he looked first at the three men, who were now drawing very near;
then he allowed his gaze to rest upon the form of the dead moose. It
was, as Bluff himself afterward expressed it, “like drawing his
eyeteeth to let that bully moose slip out of his possession.”
“Don’t let’s hurry too much,” he told Jerry, as a sort of compromise
decision. “Perhaps, after all, they’ll just give us a hauling over the
coals, and move on, leaving the game to us.”
“I hope so,” muttered Jerry rather disconsolately.
Then his face suddenly lighted up, as with the coming of an idea.
Jerry was always a great hand for conceiving plans on the spur of the
moment. Sometimes they had a germ of good in them, and again they only
aroused the laughter of his comrades.
“Oh, Bluff, I’ve just thought of something!” he exclaimed, lowering
his voice a little, because he was afraid that one of the advancing
sportsmen might overhear.
“Shucks! Is that so, Jerry,” remarked the other, who as a rule did not
have a great deal of faith in anything Jerry conceived. “Then hurry up
and let’s hear what it is.”
“They’re three, and we only count two, all told,” Jerry began.
“Tell me something new!” muttered the other impatiently.
“And maybe if Frank and Will were along they wouldn’t feel so bossy,
because the tables would be turned then, four against three.”
“But our chums are a good many miles from here,” interposed Bluff,
with fine scorn.
“Yes; but you see the men don’t know that!” said Jerry.
“Hey! Do you mean we might pull the wool over their eyes and make out
we had backing near by? Is that what you’re aiming at?”
“No harm done in trying it, is there? It might work. Even if that
fire-eating Bill didn’t show cold feet, his two friends would advise
him not to go too far. How about it, Bluff; don’t you think it’s a
good scheme?”
Bluff grinned.
“Well,” he hastened to say, “I don’t think it will cut much of a
figure. Chances are we’re going to be cheated out of our prize; and
that’ll make me sore, I tell you.”
“But, Bluff, please remember what we promised Frank,” urged Jerry, who
had a streak of caution in his make-up, though no one had ever thought
to term him timid.
“Oh, I don’t mean to stir him up so he’ll tackle us,” returned Bluff;
“but there’s one thing I never will stand for.”
“Tell me what that is, won’t you, Bluff?”
“We mustn’t let him lay a hand on us,” said the other grimly; “and
under no consideration, Jerry, allow them to take our guns away. Why,
what would become of us if we found ourselves adrift in the Big Woods
after a storm and without any way of defending ourselves or getting
game?”
“You’re right, Bluff; but what if they make a move to do it?”
“Cover ’em right away, and threaten to let fly; when they see we mean
business, I reckon they’ll hold Bill back. Now stop talking, because
here they come!”
Jerry drew a long breath, and waited for further developments. They
would not be long in coming, for the three sportsmen had by this time
almost reached the spot where the boys stood, close to the fallen
moose.
Already the men could be heard expressing in loud tones their
astonishment at seeing what noble game had fallen to the guns of the
outdoor chums. This in itself was positive proof that they had not up
to then been aware that the big moose was anywhere in the vicinity. It
proved to the boys the absurdity of the high-handed claim which later
on Bill Nackerson chose to make.
“Hey, look there, Bill, what they’ve downed!” the man who went by the
name of Whalen was heard to exclaim. “I’ll be hanged if it ain’t that
giant moose you cut loose at both years we were up here before!”
Nackerson’s face was a study. He stared as though hardly able to
believe his eyes. Besides the look of wonder, there crept across his
evil face one of growing chagrin and anger. Bluff could understand how
this might be, after hearing how Bill had on several occasions tried
to down the wonderful moose, only to meet with dismal failure.
And no doubt while he continued to advance, staring, and breathing
fast, the bold scheme was hatched in Bill Nackerson’s brain which he
proceeded to put into execution.
It was not a new idea. The same claim has often led to conflicts over
fallen game, where rival hunters disputed its possession.
“So, it’s just as we thought, fellows, and the old bull moose didn’t
run many miles after I gave him that last shot! I told you if we kept
on following his trail we’d run onto him sooner or later. But what do
you kids want here, hanging over my game? Tell me that!”
Jerry had to put out a hand to steady himself against a neighboring
pine, he was so staggered by the audacity of this remark. Why, the man
was actually claiming that he had shot the big moose, after their
following the animal so many miles through the snow forest! No wonder
it took Jerry’s breath away. He could not have uttered a single word
had his life depended on it.
Bluff, however, was not quite so taken aback. Possibly he may even
have suspected that something like this would be attempted; because on
no other grounds could the rival hunters claim the spoils of the hunt
as their property. So Bluff allowed himself a little sneering laugh.
“Oh, it was _you_ who shot this moose, was it, Mr. Nackerson?” he
remarked.
The man did not like the way these words were spoken, but he was
playing a bold game, of which any honest hunter would have been
ashamed, and felt that he must carry it through to the end.
“That’s what it was, boy,” he declared, with a black scowl. “If you
look, you can see where my bullet struck him in the body, just back of
where I aimed. A deer or moose will always run a long distance after
being hit between the ribs that way; ain’t that so, Whalen?”
Whalen made no reply. Perhaps he was so astonished by the audacity of
Bill’s claim that he could not catch his breath.
“Well, now, that’s queer,” Bluff went on, determined to have some say
in the matter, even if finally cheated out of his just rights; “here
my chum and I have been thinking we were following that moose’s trail
all the way from our camp, a matter of as much as eight miles, more or
less. And, say, we even believed we fired a double shot just now at
him, while he was standing here browsing on that branch. Jerry, we
sure must have been dreaming all that!”
“I guess you were, kid,” the man continued, without allowing a flicker
of a smile to cross his face, although both of his companions wore
wide grins. “You may have got up just in time to set eyes on my moose
before he keeled over; but don’t let me catch you trying to claim a
hand in landing him; hear that?”
“If, as you say, Mr. Nackerson,” Bluff went on doggedly, “you shot him
a long ways back and he’s just dropped here through exhaustion, why,
of course you can show us marks of blood all along his trail.”
“What’s that you say, you young cub?” demanded the other angrily.
“When a deer’s badly wounded, he leaves a trail of red on the snow
that even a half-blind man could see,” Bluff told him boldly. “If you
can show us even one mark twenty feet away from here we’ll never put
in any claim for the killing.”
It was a fair challenge; but of course, as Bill Nackerson’s claim was
founded on sand, he would never dream of accepting it. Bluff knew as
much when he said what he did, for he had sized the other up long ago
for just what he was—a bully and an unfair sportsman, who did not
care how he secured his game so long as he got it.
“What do you take me for, to be forced to prove my word against a
couple of impudent kids?” he roared; for when men realize that they
are in the wrong they often like to whip themselves into a passion.
“But if you look, you’ll find there are _two_ bullets in that
moose; and they’ll turn out to be of the same pattern we use in our
guns,” Bluff continued, meaning to rub it in as hard as he could
before being compelled to retreat, as he fully expected would be the
ultimate outcome of the encounter.
“That’ll do for you, youngster,” said the man, with a snarl. “I tell
you this moose belongs to me. I shot it, and we’ve been on the trail
of the wounded animal for a long time. That goes, mind you! Not
another word, now, or I may take a notion to kick you out of here,
minus your precious guns!”
He even advanced a step in a threatening manner. Instantly Bluff
half-raised his gun, and the way he looked at Nackerson caused the
other to hesitate. At the same instant the two men who were with him
laid hands on his arms.
“Hold on, Bill, leave the kids alone!” Whalen said soothingly, as
though startled at the possibility of a tragedy following this
piratical act on the part of their companion.
“Let ’em clear out, then, and in a big hurry!” growled Nackerson,
making what seemed a violent effort to wrest his arms free, but which
did not deceive Bluff, who knew that the other was not so anxious to
shake off the grip of his companions as he pretended.
For one moment Bluff was even tempted to carry things to the point of
demanding the departure of the three sportsmen, and thus leaving the
moose to its lawful owners.
Before his mental vision came a glimpse of Frank’s face, and he
remembered the promise he had made not to be rash. The chances were
the three men would positively refuse to relinquish the moose, and it
might even come to a free-for-all fight, in which the boys were apt to
get the worst of it.
So Bluff, though much against his will, made up his mind he would have
to bow to conditions, however unwelcome they might seem. It was a
shame to have to yield those splendid horns to their rivals when the
latter had no right, other than that of might, to carry them off.
“Don’t go to any bother about us, Mr. Nackerson,” Bluff went on to
say, with as much sarcasm in his tones as he could summon. “We might
feel like disputing your silly claim, only that would mean all sorts
of trouble. But please change your mind about thinking of taking our
guns away, because no matter what we had to do we never would stand
for that, you know.”
The man twisted in the grip of his friends again. He acted as though
wild to break away and fling himself on the boys, no matter if both
guns were half raised and covering him. But somehow he did not succeed
in freeing himself; Bluff considered that it was simply wonderful how
those two wise friends managed to hold on to him.
“You’d better go, youngsters,” said Whalen; “we mightn’t be able to
hold him back much longer, you see, he’s getting that crazy. And the
sight of you aggravates him considerable.”
“Oh, is that so?” said Bluff jeeringly, though at the same time he
took one backward step. “Well, I hope for his sake you can hold on a
little while longer. I’d sure dislike to cripple any man, away up here
so far away from a doctor; but if he jumps at us he’ll get his
medicine right fast. And that’s straight goods, I’m telling you.”
“Come on, Bluff,” Jerry was saying, anxious to avoid trouble, yet not
afraid; “perhaps we’d better be going, though I’ll always say that was
our moose, and tell everybody what a thief did to us in the Big
Woods.”
“Get away with you,” shouted Nackerson, “before I do you harm! I’d
hate to lay a hand on a boy in anger; but you don’t want to rile me
too much!”
“You didn’t hold back when you struck that poor relation of yours,
Teddy, in the face, did you, Mr. Nackerson?” said Bluff boldly. “But
we’re not afraid that you’ll bother trying the same on us. It makes
considerable difference when a boy’s got a gun. If you ever laid a
hand on me like you did Teddy, you’d live to be sorry for it.”
“Go—go!” snapped the man, now furiously angry, so that the others had
to cling to him more tenaciously than ever for fear that he might
break away, regardless of consequences.
“And as a last word,” added Bluff, “I want to tell you I’ve a hunch
we’ll get that pair of moose horns yet, in spite of you,” with which
he backed away from the scene of their triumph and defeat.