THE TRAIL TO NOWHERE
“Look out there!”
“He’s coming this way!”
“Run for your lives!”
These shouts were mingled with shots from several of the pistols, none
of which, however, took effect, for the sudden advance of the wounded
bear had disconcerted the aim of the young hunters.
The youths scattered to the right and the left behind the rocks and
brushwood, and as the bear came lumbering forward, it looked as if for
the time being he would have the place entirely to himself. Then,
however, he caught sight of Roger and made a savage leap for the
senator’s son.
Fortunately for the youth, the rifle he carried was a repeating weapon,
and now he let drive once more, sending a ball along bruin’s flank. But
this attack only served to increase the rage of the animal, and with a
ferocious snarl he sprang forward and made a pass at Roger with one of
his heavy paws.
Had this blow landed as intended, it is more than likely the senator’s
son would have been felled and perhaps seriously hurt. But by a quick
backward spring, the young civil engineer dodged the attack. Then he
fired again, and this was followed almost simultaneously by discharges
from the pistols of Phil and Ben. But all the bullets flew harmlessly
over the beast’s head.
“Run, Roger! Run!” yelled the shipowner’s son. “Run, or he’ll knock you
down sure and kill you!”
Roger needed no such advice, because he already realized his peril. He
turned to retreat, but in his haste tripped over the uneven rocks and
went pitching headlong into some nearby brushwood.
It was at this time, when the matter looked exceedingly serious, that
Dave came once more to the front. He had succeeded in reloading the
shotgun, and now, advancing rapidly, he took careful aim at the bear and
fired twice.
The first discharge from the shotgun took the huge beast directly in the
neck, and as he made a leap forward, as if to cover the distance that
separated him from our hero, the second dose of shot landed in his
stomach. He let out a frightful roar of pain and rage, and then pitched
forward with a crash on a rock and rolled over and over down into a
nearby hollow.
“Reload as fast as you can, fellows!” ordered Dave. “Don’t take any
chances. Neither of those beasts may be dead;” and he started at once to
look after his own weapon.
Years before his Uncle Dunston, who, as my old readers know, was a
famous hunter, had impressed upon the youth the truth that an unloaded
weapon is a very useless affair.
It must be admitted that Roger’s hand shook not a little while he was
looking to make sure that his rifle was in condition for further use.
Poor Shadow had gone white, and now sat on a flat rock, too weak in the
knees to stand up.
“Maybe we had better give the bears some more shots before we go near
them,” suggested the former story-teller of Oak Hall, in a voice which
sounded strangely unnatural even to himself.
“It wouldn’t do any harm to give them a few shots from the pistols,”
answered Dave. “Then we can all say we had a hand in laying them low.”
And thereupon those who possessed the smaller weapons proceeded to make
sure that the bears should never have a chance to fight again.
“Dave, I’ve got to hand it to you for coming to my assistance,” said
Roger warmly, as soon as he had recovered from his scare. “Gracious! I
thought sure that bear was going to jump right on me!”
[Illustration: DAVE TOOK CAREFUL AIM AT THE BEAR AND FIRED.—_Page 153._]
“Dave is the head hunter of this crowd,” announced Phil.
“He takes after his Uncle Dunston when it comes to shooting,” put in
Ben. “Both of them can hit the bull’s-eye without half trying.”
“I—I—don’t think I want to do much hunting after this,” was Shadow’s
comment. “That is, hunting for big game. I wouldn’t mind going out after
rabbits and birds and things like that.”
“Oh, you’ll get used to it after a while, Shadow,” answered Dave. “I
know how I felt when I faced my first big game. I had all I could do to
steady my nerves.”
“Not such very big bears, when you come to look them over,” said Ben,
who was making a close inspection.
“They certainly looked big enough when they stood up on their hind legs
and came for us,” answered Phil. “I guess a bear must shrink after he’s
dead;” and at this remark there was something of a laugh. Now that the
tension had been removed, some of the youths were inclined to be a bit
hysterical.
“What are we going to do with the bears?” questioned Phil.
“Can’t we save the skins and the heads?” asked Ben.
“Yes, we can do that,” answered Dave. “I don’t believe the skins are
particularly good at this time of the year, but you fellows might draw
lots for them and take them home as trophies of the occasion.”
On their numerous hunting trips Dave and Roger, as well as Phil, had
seen large game skinned and dressed on more than one occasion, and,
consequently, the task before them was not an altogether new one. In the
outfit they had brought along there was a hunting-knife, and also a good
sharp carving-knife, and with these tools, and the aid of the hatchet
they had brought along, they set to work to skin both of the bears and
cut each head from the rest of the body. It was no easy job, and took
much longer than they had anticipated.
“As soon as we have finished we had better make for the construction
camp,” said Dave.
“What are you going to do with the bear meat?” asked Roger. “It’s a
shame to leave it here.”
“We can cut out some of the best of the steaks, Roger; and then we can
hang the rest of the meat up on the limbs of a tree. Then, if we want to
come back for it to-morrow, or any of the others at the camp want to
come and get it, why all right.”
One of the saddle-bags was cleaned out, and in this they placed the very
choicest of the bear steaks. Then the heads and pelts were rolled up and
strapped into bundles. After that, by means of the lariat, they hoisted
one carcass after the other into the branches of the nearest tree and
there fastened them with straps.
The horses were uneasy, evidently scenting the blood of the bears. They
did not seem to fancy the idea of carrying the pelts and steaks, and the
youths had all they could do to make the animals behave. But all the
young men were used to riding, and so, after a little prancing around,
they made the steeds steady themselves, and then the journey back to the
construction camp was begun.
“I think it is quite a while since a bear was brought down in this
neighborhood,” said our hero, while they were riding along. “Old Hixon
told me he had been on their trail a number of times, but he could never
get close enough to get a shot.”
It was already growing dark, and long before the construction camp came
into view, the sun sank over the tops of the mountains in the west and
the long shadows began to creep across the valley.
“I hope you are sure of where you are going, Dave,” said Phil, as he
rode alongside of his chum.
“I’m not so very sure of this trail, Phil,” was the slow answer. “You
see, this is a new bit of territory to Roger and me.” He turned to the
senator’s son. “What do you think of it?”
“I hope we are on the right way,” was the ready reply. “I think inside
of another half hour we’ll strike the regular trail between the camp and
the railroad station.”
Soon the shadows had reached the summit of the mountain behind them, and
then the darkness of night came on rapidly. As the trail was a most
uncertain one, they had to proceed slower and slower, for fear of
running into some danger which might lurk ahead.
“It’s a pity one of us didn’t bring a flashlight along,” said Ben. “Then
we could make sure of what sort of footing was ahead.” They were passing
over some loose rocks at the time, and these occasionally made the
horses slip and slide. Once Phil’s animal went to his knees, and made a
great splurge and clatter regaining his footing.
“This is certainly some lonely spot,” was Roger’s comment, after they
had gone forward another quarter of a mile. “There doesn’t seem to be a
cabin or a camp of any sort in sight.”
“Listen! What’s that?” cried Shadow suddenly, and came close up beside
Dave.
Far away in the woods they heard a peculiar sound. They listened
intently for several minutes, and then the sound was repeated.
“I don’t think it’s anything more than a hoot owl or something of that
sort,” said our hero.
“Just what I think,” answered Roger. “I’ve heard that cry several times
since I came to Montana. It’s a bird of some sort.”
They had been going downward, but now the little trail they were
following led up over more loose rocks, and then into a thicket of
underbrush. Beyond this they came to the edge of the mountain forest.
Here Roger called a halt.
“This doesn’t look very good to me,” declared the senator’s son. “The
trail is getting worse and worse, and now it seems to lead directly into
these big woods.”
“We had better go slow about getting in among trees,” announced Phil.
“We might become hopelessly lost.”
“Then what do you propose to do?” demanded Ben. “Go back?”
“I’m sure I don’t know. I am willing to leave it to Dave and Roger. They
know a great deal more about this section of the country than we do.”
“We don’t know much about this particular piece of ground we are on
right now,” answered the senator’s son. “I can’t remember that I was
ever in this vicinity before.”
“Nor I,” added Dave. “Ever since we left the place where we had our
lunch this noon, the trail has been a strange one to me. Just the same,
I think we have been heading in the general direction of the
construction camp. For all we know, it may be right on the other side of
these big woods.”
Dave brought out his pocket compass, and he and Roger inspected it
carefully by the light from a match. Then the two talked the matter over
for several minutes.
“I’ll tell you what I think about it,” declared our hero finally. “I
think the best thing we can do is to skirt the woods instead of going
through them.”
“I’m sure it would be safer,” added Phil.
To skirt the edge of the forest, they had to leave the trail entirely
and pick their way as best they could among the rocks and brushwood.
Soon the horses hesitated about going forward, and then they had to
dismount and lead the animals.
“If we can’t locate the camp after we get around the edge of the woods,
what are we going to do?” questioned Roger of our hero in a low voice,
so that the others who were coming on behind might not hear.
“I’m sure I don’t know, Roger,” was the unsatisfactory reply.
“We’ve got to do something, Dave. We can’t stay out here all night.”
“Oh, yes, we can if we have to. If it becomes necessary to do so, we can
go into camp, light a fire, and broil some of those bear steaks.”
“Yes, we could do that. And bear steaks wouldn’t be half bad, seeing how
hungry I am getting,” returned the senator’s son. “But just the same,
I’d rather get back to our camp to-night.”