AT CAMP
Seemingly by common consent on the part of Tom’s chums, it was left for
him to further question Sam Wilson and learn more about the man the
caretaker had driven over to the hunting camp. And Tom was not slow
to follow up the matter. He had his own suspicions, but he wanted to
verify them.
“You say you drove someone over to our camp yesterday?” Tom asked.
“Not yesterday, the day before,” was the answer. “And it wasn’t exactly
to your camp, but near it. Your camp is a private one, you know--that
is, it belongs to an association, and I understand you boys are to have
full run of all three places.”
“Yes, the gentlemen who make up the organization very kindly gave us
that privilege,” assented Tom.
“Then you’re the only ones allowed to use the camps,” went on Sam.
“I’ll see to that, being the official keeper. I’m in charge the year
around, and sometimes I am pretty hard put to keep people out that
have no business in. So, naturally, I wouldn’t drive no stranger over
to one of _my_ camps--I call ’em mine,” he added with a smile, “but of
course I’m only the keeper.”
“We understand,” spoke Tom, and his tone was grave.
“Well, then you understand I wouldn’t let anyone in at the camps unless
they came introduced, same as you boys did.”
“Well, where did you drive this man then--this man with----” began
George, but Jack silenced him with a look, nodding as much as to say
that it was Tom’s privilege to do the questioning.
“I drove this man over to Hounson’s place,” resumed the camp-keeper, as
he saw that all the baggage was piled in the pung. “This man Hounson
keeps what he calls a hunters’ camp, but shucks! It’s nothing more than
a sort of hotel in the woods. Some hunters do put up there, but none of
the better sort.
“The gentlemen who own the three camps you’re going to tried to buy up
Hounson’s place, as they didn’t like him and his crowd around here, but
he wouldn’t sell. That’s where I took this Jersey man who complained of
the cold. Kept rubbing his ears, and one of ’em was chawed, just as if
some wild critter had him down and chawed him. ’Course I didn’t say
anything about it, as I thought maybe it might be a tender subject with
him. But I left him at Hounson’s.”
“Did he say what his name was?” asked Tom, but he only asked to gain
time to think over what he had heard, for he was sure he knew who the
man with the “chawed” ear was.
“No, he didn’t tell me his name, and I didn’t ask him,” Sam said. “Whoa
there!” he called to his horses, for they showed an impatience to be
off.
“Some folks are sort of delicate about giving out their names,” went on
the guide when the steeds were quieted, “and as I’m a sort of public
character, being the stage driver, when there’s one to drive, I didn’t
feel like going into details. So I just asked him where he wanted
to go, and he told me. Outside of that, and a little talk about the
weather, him remarking that he come from Jersey, that’s all the talk we
had.
“But maybe you boys know him,” he went on, as a thought came to him.
“He was from Jersey, and so are you. Do you happen to know who he is?”
he asked.
“We couldn’t say--for sure,” spoke Tom, which was true enough.
“Well, maybe you’ll get a chance to see him,” went on Sam Wilson.
“Hounson’s isn’t far from your first camp, where we’re going to head
for in a minute or so. You could go over there. You probably will have
to, anyhow, if you want your mail, for the only postoffice for these
parts is located there. And you’ll probably see your man.
“To tell you the truth, I didn’t take much of a notion to the feller.
He was too sullen and glum-like to suit me. I like a man to take some
interest in life.”
“Didn’t this man do that?” asked Tom, as he stowed his gun away on the
straw-covered bottom of the pung.
“Not a cent’s worth!” cried Sam, who was hearty and bluff enough to
suit anyone, and jolly in the bargain. “This chap sort of wrapped
himself up in one of my fur robes, like one of them blanket Indians I
read about out West, and he hardly spoke the whole trip. But you’ll
probably see him over at Hounson’s. Well, are you boys all ready?”
“I guess so,” assented Bert, as he slung his camera over his shoulder
by a strap. He hoped to get a chance at a snapshot.
“Well, then we’ll start,” went on Sam. “Pile in boys, and wrap them fur
robes and blankets well around your legs. It’s colder riding than it is
walking. So bundle up. It’ll be colder, too, when we get out of town a
ways. We’re in sort of a holler here, and that cuts off the wind.”
“What about grub?” asked Jack. “Do we need to take anything with us? I
see a store over there,” and he indicated one near the small depot.
“Don’t need to buy a thing,” said Sam. “Every one of the three camps is
well stocked. There’s bacon, ham, eggs, besides lots of canned stuff,
and I make a trip in to town twice a week. As for fresh meat, why,
you’ll probably shoot all that you want, I reckon,” and he seemed to
take that as a matter of course.
“Say, look here!” exclaimed Tom, determined not to sail under false
colors, nor have his companions in the same boat. “We aren’t regular
hunters, you know. This is about the first time we ever came on a big
hunting trip like this, and maybe----”
“Don’t say another word!” exclaimed Sam, good-naturedly. “I understand
just how it is. I’m glad you owned up to it, though,” he went on, with
a twinkle in his blue eyes. “Some fellers would have tried to bluff it
out, but I guess me and some of the other natives around here, would
have spotted you soon enough.
“But as long as you say you haven’t had much experience, and as long
as you ain’t ashamed of it, I’ll see that you get plenty of game. I’ll
take you to the best places, and show you how to shoot.”
“Of course we know how to use guns, and we’ve hunted a little,” Tom
said, not wanting it to appear that they were absolute novices. And
he added: “We’re pretty good shots in a rifle gallery, too. But it’s
different out in the woods.”
“I know!” cried Sam. “I understand. You don’t need to worry. You won’t
starve, if that’s what’s troubling you. Now I guess we’ll get along,”
and the horses stepped proudly out over the snowy road. Bells made a
merry jingle as the party of boy hunters started for their first camp.
“Say, Tom,” spoke Jack in a low voice to his chum, “do you think that
was Skeel, the man with the ‘chawed’ ear, who was driven over to
Hounson’s?”
“I’m almost sure of it,” was the answer.
“Well, what in the world is his object in coming away up here and at
the same time we’re due?”
“Give it up. We’ll have to look for the answer later,” was Tom’s reply.
Out on the open road the horses increased their speed, and soon the
pung, under the powerful pull of the animals, was sliding along at a
fast clip. Much sooner than the boys had expected, they saw, down in
a little valley clearing, a comfortable looking log-cabin, and at the
sight of it Sam Wilson called out:
“There she is, boys! That’s your first camp!”