SPIED UPON
“What do we want to go in there for?” asked Jack, at length.
“Because,” was the rather short answer of Tom. Then, feeling perhaps
that he might explain a little more at length, he turned from where he
stood in the tumbled-down doorway, and added:
“Let’s get in out of the storm. This is a good place to rest, away from
that cutting wind. Quiet, Towser,” he added, for the dog showed signs
of not wanting to go in. He growled and hung back. Then he looked in
the direction in which they had come, and his hair rose on the back of
his neck as though he saw something the boys did not see, and resented
the sight--whatever it was.
“I don’t like that,” commented Bert. “Dogs know more than we
do--sometimes.”
“Oh, come on in!” repeated Tom, and he spoke to the dog again. This
time Towser followed his temporary master inside the hut.
“But what gets me is _why_ are we going in?” objected George. “It will
only delay us, and if we’ve got to make seven miles to Ramsen to-night,
we’d better be getting at it.”
“That’s just it,” spoke Tom quickly. “I think we can’t get at it.”
“What do you mean?” came from Jack.
“I mean that we can’t go on in this storm. It’s getting worse every
minute, and we may stray off the road. We have found this shelter
providentially, and we ought to take advantage of it. It will give us a
half-decent place to stay, and we won’t be buried in the snow which may
happen if we keep on.
“Come inside and stay here, that’s what I mean,” Tom went on. “It might
be a heap-sight worse,” and he flashed his torch about the bare and
crumbling ruin of the cabin.
“What!” cried Bert. “Do you mean to stay here all night?”
“Why not?” asked Tom. “It’s better than being out in the storm, isn’t
it? Hark to that wind!”
As he spoke a blast howled around the corner of the shack, and blew a
cloud of flakes in through a glassless window.
“It’s a little better than outside--but not much,” murmured George.
“Look at those windows.”
“We can find something to stuff in them,” said Tom cheerfully. “There
may be some old bags about. And we haven’t been upstairs yet. This
place may be furnished better than we think. Come on, boys, make up
your minds to stay here.”
“Well, we might do worse, that’s a fact,” slowly admitted Jack. “Say,
look at that dog, would you!”
His manner, as he said this, was excited, but no less so than that of
the dog. The animal brushed past the group of boys, fairly pulling
loose the improvised leash from Tom’s hand and stood in the doorway
with bristling hair, lips drawn back from his teeth and showing every
appearance of anger.
“Something ails him,” spoke George, in a low voice.
“I should say so,” agreed Tom, rubbing his hand where the stout cord
had cut into him, even in spite of his heavy mitten.
“It’s that bear!” cried Jack.
“What?” questioned Tom.
“That bear we were following,” explained Jack. “It’s outside now, and
the dog has winded him. Where’s my gun? I’m going to have a potshot at
him!”
He started toward the corner where he had stood up his gun. The
interior of the cabin was fairly light, for Tom had snapped on the
permanent switch of his little pocket electric light.
“Hold on a minute!” Tom said, placing a hand on his chum’s shoulder.
“What are you going to do?”
“Don’t go out,” advised Tom. “I don’t believe it’s the bear, to begin
with, and, in the second place, if it _is_, you wouldn’t stand any
chance of hitting him in this storm. And you might get lost. It’s a
regular blizzard outside.”
“What makes you think it isn’t the bear?” asked Jack, ignoring Tom’s
other reasons.
“Well, from the way the dog acts, for one thing,” was the answer. “He
didn’t act that way before, when we had a plain sight of the trail, and
Towser may even have come close to Bruin himself.”
“If it isn’t the bear--who is it--or--what is it?” demanded George.
“I don’t know,” was Tom’s frank reply.
“Let’s give a yell,” suggested Bert. “Maybe it’s Sam Wilson, or someone
who could put us on the right road. I don’t fancy staying here all
night if it can be helped. Let’s give a yell.”
“All right,” Tom agreed. “Here, Towser,” he went on to the dog, “come
in here and behave yourself.”
But the animal did not seem so disposed. He remained in the doorway,
looking out into the storm, now and then growling hoarsely in his
throat, but showing no disposition to dash out. Certainly he was
acting very strangely, but whether it was fear or anger the boys could
not decide.
“Well, whoever it is, or whatever, we’ve got plenty of guns and
ammunition,” remarked George. “We haven’t had a decent shot to-day.”
Which was very true. They had had great hopes, but that was all.
“Come on if we’re going to yell,” suggested Jack. “And if we don’t
raise someone, we’ll prepare to stay here. It’s the best we can do,
fellows.”
They united their voices in a shout, and the dog added to the din by
barking. He seemed to feel better when the lads were making as much
noise as they could.
But the echoes of the boys’ voices, blown back to them by the
snow-laden wind, was all the answer they received. They waited, and
called again, but no one replied to them. Nor, as at least George
half-expected, did they hear the growls of a bear. The wind howled, the
snow rattled on the sides and roof of the cabin, for the flakes were
almost as hard as sleet. But that was all.
“Guess we’ll have to put up at this ‘hotel,’” said Bert, after a pause.
The dog had quieted down now, as though whatever had aroused him had
passed on.
“Let’s take a look around and see what we’ve drawn,” suggested Jack.
“If there’s any wood, we can make a fire, and there must be some of
that grub left.”
“There is,” announced Bert, who had constituted himself a sort of
commissary department. “We’ve got some sandwiches, and I can make
coffee.”
“That isn’t so bad,” remarked Tom. “Once we have a little feed, we’ll
all feel better. And in the morning the storm may have stopped, so we
can easily find our road. We’re on the right one, I’m sure, for that
signboard said seven miles to Ramsen, and that’s in the direction of
Camp No. 3.”
If Tom had only known about that changed signboard!
Each of the lads carried a powerful electric light, with a tungsten
bulb. It was operated by a small, dry battery. It was intended only for
a flashing light, of a second or so each time, but there was a switch
arrangement so that the light could be held steady and permanent,
though of course this used up the battery quickly.
“I’ll let my light burn,” proposed Tom. “It’s nearly burned out anyhow,
and you fellows can save yours until later.”
“If we could have a fire, we wouldn’t need a light,” Bert said.
“That’s right,” agreed Tom. “Let’s look about a bit.”
There was a hearth in the main room of the deserted cabin, and on it
were the ashes of a fire, long since dead and cold. But it seemed to
show that the chimney would draw. Scattered about the room were pieces
of old boxes and barrel staves, and a pile of these was soon set ablaze
on the hearth.
“That looks better!” remarked Bert, with satisfaction, as he rubbed his
hands in front of the blaze. “Now if we had a way of stopping up some
of these broken windows, we wouldn’t be so cold.”
“Take some of those bags,” suggested Tom, indicating a pile in a
corner. It looked like the bed of some chance tramp who had accepted
the shelter the deserted shack offered.
The boys soon had the broken lights filled in, and when the tumble-down
door had been propped up in the entrance, the cabin was not such a bad
shelter, with a blazing fire going.
“Now for a look upstairs,” suggested Tom, for the cabin was of two
stories, though the top one was very low.
“I’d rather eat,” suggested George.
“It won’t take long to investigate,” Tom said.
They went up the rickety stairs, but the trip hardly paid for their
pains, for there was less upstairs than there was down. Some few rags,
bits of broken bottles, boxes and barrels were seen, and that was all.
“And now for grub!” cried George, when they were once more in the main
room downstairs. “Let’s get that coffee going, and eat what there is.”
The boys carried a coffee-pot with them, and a supply of the ground
berries. Some snow was scooped up in the pot, which was set on the
coals to provide the necessary water by melting the white crystals.
Then the packages of sandwiches, rather depleted, it is true, were set
out. A little later the aroma of the boiling beverage filled the room.
“That smells fine!” murmured Jack.
“It surely does,” agreed Bert. “Now for a feed.”
They all felt better after they had eaten what food was left from
lunch. And surely they needed the grateful and stimulating warmth of
the coffee, even though it was rather muddy, and was drunk out of tin
cups they carried with them. They even had condensed milk and sugar,
for these were carried in a case, in which fitted the pot and the
ground coffee. This was one of Tom’s up-to-date discoveries.
To Towser were tossed the odds and ends of the sandwiches, and he ate
them greedily, drinking some snow water which George melted for him in
a tin he found in one corner of the cabin.
Then the boys prepared to spend the night in the deserted cabin. They
sat about the fire, on improvised seats made from broken boxes, and
watched the fire, which certainly was cheerful. They expected to only
doze through the night, and hoped to get on the proper road by morning.
Suddenly the dog, which had been peacefully lying in front of the
hearth, sprang up with a growl and bark. He startled the boys.
“Quiet!” commanded Tom, but the animal continued to growl.
“That’s funny,” remarked Jack.
“What is?” asked Tom. “Just because he barks on account of hearing
something, or scenting something, that’s beyond us?”
“No, not that so much, but it’s a funny feeling I have,” said Jack. “I
feel just as if we were being spied upon.”
“Spied upon!” repeated Tom. “Say, you’re as nervous as a girl, old man!”
Before Jack could reply, the dog had leaped up and rushed out into
the storm through a small opening where the old door was only propped
against the frame.