A CAMP IN THE SNOW
“I never hated to do anything so much in my life as break away from
there and give up our moose!” Bluff told his comrade.
They had gone far enough back to lose sight of the three men in the
swiftly driven snow that was now falling heavily.
“Me, too,” returned Jerry; “but that’s the way it happens sometimes. I
only hope they find out they haven’t got a single match among ’em.
Perhaps, then, if it keeps on getting colder, and the storm blows
heavier and heavier, they’ll wish they hadn’t made us clear out.”
“Why, what are you talking about, Jerry?”
“Didn’t you hear what they started to say while we were backing away?”
demanded the other. “Whalen asked the other man for a match, so they
could start up a fire and get warm. Then I heard the second fellow say
he didn’t know where he’d dropped the box, but it didn’t seem to be in
his pockets. They turned to Nackerson, and I reckon asked him for a
light, because I heard him growl that he’d used his last match when he
smoked a cigar.”
“Oh, well, they’ll find some stray ones stowed away in a pocket, like
as not!” Bluff remarked, and in that fashion allowed the incident to
pass from his mind.
“But tell me what you’re aiming to do next, Bluff?” asked Jerry. “I’d
also like to know which way you mean to play the game so’s to get back
the horns of our big moose?”
Bluff chuckled on hearing that.
“Oh, I only said that to impress Bill, that’s all!” he observed
carelessly. “I had to be true to my name, you know. I only wish I
could see some way to beat that crowd out in the end. I’d sure go to a
heap of trouble to get there.”
“Are we heading right to get back home?” asked Jerry, a few minutes
later.
“My stars! I hope you don’t think I’m silly enough to want to try and
cover all the miles between here and the cabin, and with this storm
starting in, too.”
“Well, I’ll do whatever you say, Bluff, because I always did own up
you knew more about the woods in a day than I could in a week; but all
the same I’d be right glad to hear you mean to make a camp, and spend
the night resting up.”
“I’m afraid it isn’t going to be much of a camp, though; you don’t
want to expect too much.”
“Some sort of brush shelter ought to help out, I should think,” the
other returned, as he bent his head lower in order to fight against
the driving wind.
Night was coming on unusually early, on account of the clouds above
and the falling snow. Any one who knew what these signs foretold could
understand that there was a wild time ahead for those caught away from
shelter and exposed to the fury of a growing blizzard.
“We might be able to do some better than that,” Bluff went on to say,
as he kept turning his head from side to side, as though constantly on
the lookout for something he had in mind.
Five, ten minutes passed, until they must have gone nearly half a mile
away from the scene of their meeting with Nackerson and his cronies.
“Whew! Let me tell you this is going to be a screecher!” Jerry
declared, while he rubbed his ears to make them burn, for the cold
wind nipped them.
“You’re wondering why I don’t call a halt, Jerry, so I’ll explain,”
Bluff told him. “I remembered seeing a place when we were moving along
the trail of the moose where some trees had been uprooted in a storm
years ago.”
“Yes, I noticed it, Bluff!” cried the other eagerly. “Is it on account
of the firewood you want to get to those fallen trees?”
“Partly that,” admitted the other; “but p’raps you didn’t notice that
one of the trees had been a regular whopper, for when it went down in
the cyclone it yanked up a heap of earth nearly as big as a cabin.”
“Oh, now I see what you mean, Bluff: the hole in the ground where the
roots came out of might make us a first-rate camp!”
“For a good many reasons,” pursued Bluff, who managed to speak after a
fashion in spite of the wind whistling into his teeth and at times
almost taking his breath away. “First of all, the roots stand up in
the right way to protect us from the worst of this northwest storm.”
“Couldn’t be better, for a fact,” said Jerry, feeling his courage
returning as the plan unfolded.
“Then, as you say, we’d have plenty of firewood handy for that little
camp hatchet to get busy on. And unless I miss my guess we ought to be
able to cover the gap more or less with stuff, so as to form a rough
roof.”
“Then all I hope is,” Jerry told him rather plaintively, “that we
don’t get off our base, and miss connections with that windrow of
fallen trees.”
“I’ve kept my bearings right along,” Bluff returned, “and if you look
sharp over there on the left I reckon you’ll see the open place where
the trees are down.”
“Bluff, you did take us straight there, for a fact. I don’t think
Frank or anybody else could have done better!” was Jerry’s exultant
outbreak, after he discovered that they had arrived at their goal.
A minute afterward the two chums were looking down into the hole that
had once contained the roots of the big tree, now lying where the
violence of the hurricane had thrown it.
“Just the thing for us!” Jerry exclaimed, as he jumped into the cavity
and mentally pictured it roofed over so that the snow might be almost
wholly kept out.
“Then the first thing we want to do is to get a fire started,” Bluff
advised him. “Before we know where we’re at, we’ll be in the dark; so
let’s drag a bunch of this wood where we’ll need it before we do
anything else.”
They laid their guns aside, leaning them against a tree that had
weathered the gale so fatal to the giant of the woods. For some little
time both boys labored steadily, until a heaping pile of fairly good
wood had been brought close to the hole.
“Where’d we better start the fire?” asked Jerry, for he knew that a
number of things must be considered when settling this question.
There was the direction of the wind to be remembered, for it would be
very disagreeable to have the pungent wood smoke blown constantly in
their faces, making their eyes smart. As the upturned roots stood
between them and the storm, this compelled them to start the blaze on
the opposite side of the excavation.
Once Jerry had the site pointed out to him, he busied himself in
getting a blaze going. Things began to take on a more cheerful air as
soon as the fire started crackling and throwing out both light and
heat.
This was only a beginning. The boys knew that in order to shelter
themselves from the blizzard they must get some sort of roof above
their heads. This would keep off the falling snow that might otherwise
almost fill the hole before morning came.
The hatchet proved to be worth its weight in silver, as Jerry
declared.
“What would we have done without it?” he remarked several times, as he
continued to hack away, handing the brush over to Bluff, who was
engaged in trying to weave it after a certain fashion, securing it to
the poles they had laid across the top of the hole.
“Don’t ask me,” Bluff told him; “thank Frank for telling us to bring
it along, when like as not neither of us would have thought it worth
while.”
“No,” continued Jerry, “because a fellow as a rule doesn’t expect to
use a hatchet when he’s tracking a moose or a deer. All the same, I’ve
come to the conclusion that it’s best to have such a tool along
whenever you even take a walk up here in these Maine woods. You never
know when you may need it.”
“The roof’s half done,” announced Bluff. “Take a look, and tell me how
you like it.”
“Seems like a good job, so far as I know,” the other commented. “I
should say you’ve made a brush shelter that way more’n a few times
before now.”
“Maybe I have,” was the reply, as Bluff once more set to work to
finish the roof, leaving untouched the end through which they could
pass in and out and receive the benefit of their fire.
“And when we’ve got all through building our house,” remarked Jerry,
“it’ll be time to think of having a bite.”
“Huh! That’s another thing we’ve got to thank Frank for,” was the
rejoinder. “It looks as though he might have seen what trouble we had
in store for us, and fixed things to meet the need.”
“That’s Frank’s way,” commented Jerry, feeling very grateful to know
that even though compelled to spend the night in such a crude camp he
and Bluff need not lie and shiver for want of warmth or go hungry
because of lack of food.
“It strikes me the storm keeps getting worse right along,” Bluff
announced, as he was forced to push up to the fire in order to warm
his stiff fingers.
“It’s a corker, all right,” admitted the other, whose exertions with
the hatchet helped to keep his blood circulating, so that he did not
feel the freezing temperature quite so much as Bluff seemed to.
In due time the roof was finished, as far as the builder intended it
should be laid. No matter what depth of snow fell, very little of it
was likely to find its way inside the shelter back of the upturned
tree.
“Now, don’t we deserve a little refreshment?” asked Jerry.
“We might as well, for a change,” Bluff told him. “After that, we must
fetch more wood. The wind makes the fire burn savagely, you notice,
and it’s sure a caution how it eats up the stuff. Besides, remember
it’s going to be something like twelve hours before morning comes.”
“Wow! Will we manage to get any sleep, do you think?”
“Give it up; but let’s hope so.”
“And when we intended to start out light, I can remember Frank saying
we might wish we had lugged our blankets along with us. ’Course we,
couldn’t do that, and chase after the moose; but I’d like to feel that
same blanket up around my shoulders.”
“Oh, we’re doing pretty well, as it is,” Bluff returned, determined to
make the best of a bad bargain, which was a pretty wise thing for him
to do under the circumstances.
Sitting there, with the fire crackling close by, and its heat feeling
very comfortable, the two chums opened the packages of food which
Frank had rammed into the pockets of their coats before they started.
Their supper consisted of only crackers and cheese, with some strips
of left-over venison to munch on. Still, since their appetites were
good and there was an abundance of the fare, it tasted as fine as
anything they could remember.
“Had enough?” asked Bluff, when he saw that his comrade had cleaned up
every scrap of his portion.
“Plenty,” replied Jerry, with a sigh of satisfaction; “couldn’t eat
another bite if I tried. And don’t let’s bother thinking where our
breakfast’s going’ to come from. We’ll run across some game, or else
be able to find the cabin again before we’ve quite starved to death.”
“That’s right. I was just thinking if those men should turn out to be
without a single match among them, wouldn’t they have a rough time of
it all night out in this storm?”
“Yes; and I’m sorry now I didn’t offer to hand them over some of our
supply of matches,” Jerry said softly, which remark spoke well for his
forgiving nature. “They treated us mean, of course, but then it
doesn’t pay to hold a grudge when you’re in the woods.”
“Oh, I reckon they found the match, all right,” Bluff remarked
carelessly, “and as they’re old sportsmen they must know all the
tricks woodsmen make use of to keep warm and cozy in a blow like
this.”
“I hope so, Bluff.”
Later on they decided to get busy with the wood supply, for the snow
continued to come down as furiously as ever. It was a fine kind of
powdery snow, which, blown on the gale, caused their cheeks to smart
when it struck.
Every little while they would get close to the fire to warm
themselves. Jerry shuddered as he contemplated the long vigil of that
never-to-be-forgotten night following their moose hunt. He did not
anticipate that sleep would visit either of them, so uncomfortable
would be their position. The wind managed to find cracks and crannies
through which to whistle, and with the storm raging through the forest
all sorts of strange noises came to their ears.
At times it even seemed to Jerry as though people in distress were
calling for help. Twice he went outside the shelter to listen, though
Bluff told him it was all imagination.
“It wouldn’t surprise me, though,” the other remarked, when Jerry came
back the second time, “if we heard that wolf pack whooping things up
through the timber before morning comes. A wild night like this is
what starts them on the rampage, I reckon.”
“Do you think they would attack us here?” asked Jerry, drawing his gun
a little closer to his hand.
“Well, hardly, with this jolly blaze going,” Bluff continued
reflectively. “You know, they are afraid of fire. But they may make a
meal from that big moose we shot, if the men don’t stay there to keep
them away.”
“So long as they left us the horns I wouldn’t care, Bluff. But if the
men didn’t find a single match among them, and the wolves came along,
like as not they’d have to pass the night perched in a tree, and
freezing. Oh, I’m glad we’ve got our fire!”