THE FIRST HUNT
The pung came to a stop at the head of a driveway that led up to the
log cabin, which was situated in a little clearing in the dense woods
all about it. Tom and his chums gave one look at the structure which
was to be their home, or one of them for several weeks, and were about
to leap out of the sled, when Sam stopped them by a sudden exclamation.
“Hold on a minute, boys!” he said. “I want to take a look there before
you step out in the snow.”
“What’s the matter? Are there traps set under the drifts?” asked Bert.
“No, but it looks to me like someone had been tramping around that
cabin. I never made them footprints,” and he pointed to some in the
snow.
The snow on the driveway, leading from the main road through the
woods, up to the hunting cabin itself, was not disturbed or broken by
the marks of any sled runners or horses’ hoofs. There were, however,
several lines of human footprints leading in both directions.
“Just a moment now, boys,” cautioned Sam, who was following a certain
line of footprints, at the same time stepping in a former line, that he
had evidently made himself, for his boots just fitted in them.
“What in the world is he doing?” asked George. “Has anything happened?
Has a crime been committed? Is he looking for evidence? Why doesn’t he
go right up to the cabin?”
“Any more questions?” asked Jack, as the other paused for breath. “It
seems like old times, Why, to hear you rattle on in that fashion.”
“Aw----” began George, but that was as far as he got. Sam was ready
now, to make an announcement.
“I thought so!” exclaimed the guide. “There has been someone else up
here since I left this morning. Someone has been snooping around here,
and they hadn’t any right to, as this is private property.”
“Did he get in?” asked Bert, thinking perhaps all the “grub” might have
been taken.
“Don’t seem to have gone in,” replied Sam. “Whoever it was made a
complete circle around the cabin, though, as if he was looking for
something. You can see the tracks real plain,” he went on. “Here is
where I came up this morning, to see that everything was all right, for
I expected you boys this afternoon,” he went on. “And here is where I
came back,” and he pointed out his second line of footprints. “And here
is where Mr. Stranger started up, went around the cabin, and came out
on the main road again,” the guide resumed. “No, he didn’t get in, but
he looked in the windows all right.”
This the boys could see for themselves, for they were now out of the
pung, there being no further need of not obliterating the strange
footprints.
Tom and his chums noticed where the intruder had paused beneath several
of the low cabin windows, as though trying to peer inside. And another
thing Tom noticed; in the broad sole-impression of each boot-mark of
the stranger’s feet was the outline of a star, made in hob nails with
which the soles were studded.
“I’ll know that footprint if I see it again,” thought Tom. “But I
wonder who it was that was spying around this cabin?”
Sam, however, did not seem to be unduly alarmed over his discovery.
George asked him:
“Who do you s’pose it was that made those marks?”
“Oh, some stray hunter,” was the answer. “They often get curious, just
like a deer, and come up to see what’s going on. No use getting mad
about it, as long as no harm’s done, and they didn’t try to get in.
Of course, in case of a blizzard, I wouldn’t find fault if a man took
shelter in one of the cabins, even if he had to break in. A man’s got a
right to save his life.”
“Do you have bad storms up here?” Bert wanted to know.
“I should say we did!” Sam exclaimed, “and from now on you can count on
a storm or a blizzard ’most any day. So watch out for yourselves and
carry a compass with you. But here I am chinning away when you want to
get in and warm up and tackle the grub. Come on!”
He unlocked the door with a key he carried, and the boys gazed with
interest at the interior of the shack. It suited them to perfection.
The cabin contained three rather large rooms. One was the kitchen and
dining-room combined, another was sort of a sitting or living-room,
made comfortable with rugs on the floor, and a fireplace in which big
logs could be burned, while in the middle of the room was a table
covered with books and magazines. The third room, opening from the
living apartment, was where several bunks were arranged, and the
momentary glimpse the boys had of them seemed to promise a fine place
to rest at night.
A second glance into the kitchen showed a goodly stock of food.
There was a stove, with a fire laid ready for lighting; and a pile
of kindling and logs on the hearth was also prepared for ignition.
In short, the place was as comfortable as could be desired, and with
a blazing fire on the hearth, the knowledge that there was plenty of
“grub” in the pantry, and with a blizzard raging outside, there was
little more that could be desired--at least, the boys thought that
would be perfect.
“Can you fellows cook?” demanded Sam.
“Well, we can make a stab at it,” answered Jack.
“We’ve done some camping,” spoke Tom, modestly enough. “I guess we can
get up some sort of a meal.”
“All right. Then I’ll leave you, for I’ve got to get back to my farm,”
the guide explained. “Of course there isn’t much to do in the Winter,
but attend to the chores and feed the stock, but they have to be looked
after. I live about seven miles from here,” he explained, as he brought
in the baggage, guns and cameras. “Now the two other camps, that go
with this one, are several miles from here, almost in a straight line.
There’s a map showing just how to get to ’em,” he said, indicating a
blueprint drawing on the cabin wall. “Study that and you won’t get
lost. But if you can’t find the other camps when you want to, I’ll
come and show you.”
“Oh, I guess we can manage,” said Tom, who was getting off his coat
preparatory to helping start the fires and cooking.
“I’ll stop and see you about once in four days, in case you need
anything,” Sam went on. “Just pin a note to the door of the cabin you
last leave, saying where you’re going, or whether you’re coming back,
so’s I’ll know where to look for you. My farm is located about half
way between Camp No. 1, that’s this one, and Camp No. 3, which is the
farthest off.
“Well, now if you think you can manage, I’ll leave you. It’s getting on
toward night, and my folks will be looking for me,” and Sam prepared to
start for home.
“We can get along all right,” Tom assured him. “And may we begin
hunting whenever we want to?”
“Start in now if you like, but I’d advise waiting until to-morrow,” the
guide said, with a chuckle.
“Yes, we’ll wait,” agreed Jack.
Though the four chums had never been to a real hunters’ camp before,
they had often shifted for themselves in the woods, or at some lake,
and though they were perhaps not as expert housekeepers as girls, or
women, they managed to get up a good meal in comparatively short time.
The fire was started in the kitchen stove, and another blaze was soon
roaring up the big chimney in the living-room. This would take the
chill off the bunk-room, for it was very cold in there, the windows
being covered with a coating of ice.
“Baked beans--from a can--bacon and eggs--coffee and canned peaches,
with bread and butter. How does that strike you for the first meal?”
asked Tom, who had been looking through the cupboard.
“Fine!” cried Jack. “But what about bread? If there’s any here, it will
be as stale as a rock.”
“Sam had some in the sled. His wife baked it, I guess,” said Tom,
indicating a bundle on the table. “I found some butter in a jar here.”
“Then start the meal!” cried Bert. “I’m hungry.”
They all were, and they did ample justice to the viands that were soon
set forth. The cabin was filled with the appetizing odor of bacon and
coffee, and wagging tongues were momentarily stilled, for jaws were
busy chewing.
Rough and ready, yet sufficiently effective, was the dish-washing, and
then came a comfortable evening, sitting before the crackling blaze on
the hearth, while they talked over the experiences of the closing day.
They were all rather sleepy, from the cold wind they had faced on the
sled ride, and soon were ready to turn in. Just before banking the fire
for the night, Tom paused, and stood in a listening attitude near one
of the windows.
“What’s the matter?” asked Jack.
“I thought I heard something,” was the reply.
“He’s worried about the man whose footprints Sam saw in the snow,” said
George.
“Or the man with the ‘chawed’ ear,” added Bert.
“No, it was the wind, I guess,” Tom spoke. “But say, fellows, what do
you think Skeel is doing up here?”
“Is he here?” questioned Jack.
“Well, that ‘chawed’ ear makes it sound so.”
They discussed the matter for some time longer and then sought the
comfortable bunks. Nothing disturbed them during the night, or if there
were unusual noises the boys did not hear them, for they all slept
soundly.
They awoke to find the sun shining gloriously, and after breakfast Tom
got down his gun, an example followed by the others.
“Now for a hunt!” he cried. “Some rabbit stew, or fried squirrel,
wouldn’t go half bad.”
“Or a bit of venison or a plump partridge,” added Jack. “On with the
hunt!”