FOUR BOY HUNTERS
or, The Outing of the Gun Club
by
CAPTAIN RALPH BONEHILL
CONTENTS
CHAPTERS
I. Target Shooting and a Plan
II. The Fire at the Saw Mill
III. Down the River
IV. The Disappearance of the Boat
V. Another Start
VI. A First Night in Camp
VII. Something About a Strange Animal
VIII. An Unwelcome Arrival
IX. A Night of Discomfort
X. Giant and the Maskalonge
XI. In a New Camp
XII. Shep and the Hollow Tree
XIII. Lost in the Woods
XIV. The Boys and the Wildcat
XV. The Cave in the Mountain
XVI. A Successful Deer Hunt
XVII. The Rival Campers
XVIII. A Mix-Up in Camp
XIX. Another Hunt After Dark
XX. In a Storm on the Lake
XXI. A Camp and a Prisoner
XXII. Rabbits, Nuts and a Snake
XXIII. After Mountain Brook Mink
XXIV. Ham Spink and the Skunk
XXV. Surrounded by Wolves
XXVI. Something About Trapping
XXVII. The Deserted Cottage
XVIII. The Boy Hunters and a Bear
XXIX. A Strange Meeting in the Forest
XXX. Words and a Blow
XXXI. The Forest Fire---Conclusion
PREFACE
My Dear Lads:
This tale of "_Four Boy Hunters_" is a complete story in itself, but
forms the first volume of a line to be called "_The Boy Hunters
Series_," taking the heroes through various adventures while searching
for big and little game in the woods and in the mountains.
The boys are bright, lively fellows of to-day, with a natural taste
for a life in the open, and a fondness for a gun and a rod. In the
present volume they organize their little club, and after a good
deal of talk obtain permission to go a number of miles from home
and establish a camp on the edge of a lake. From this spot they
are driven away by one who is their enemy, and then they go
elsewhere. They have fun and adventures in plenty, around the camp
and while out after both big and little game, and they help to bring
to justice two men who are hiding from the officers of the law.
To-day hunting in our country is not what it was some years ago.
Many of the best hunting localities have become settled, and it
is becoming harder and harder to catch a sight of a deer, or a
moose, or a bear, or, in fact, any wild animal of size. In the
far West the buffalo has been practically wiped out, and in the
East the deer and moose would also be gone were it not for the
protection of the law, which makes it illegal to shoot down such
game during the closed season.
With best wishes to all who love a gun and love good hunting,
I remain, Your sincere friend, Captain Ralph Bonehill.
CHAPTER I
TARGET SHOOTING AND A PLAN
Cling!
"A bull's-eye!"
Cling!
"Another bull's-eye, I declare!"
Cling!
"Three bull's-eyes, of all things! Snap, you are getting to be
a wonder with the rifle. Why, even old Jed Sanborn couldn't do
better than that."
Charley Dodge, a bright, manly boy of fifteen, laid down the rifle
on the counter in the shooting gallery and smiled quietly. "I
guess it was more luck than anything, Shep," he replied. "Perhaps
I couldn't do it again."
"Nonsense," came from Sheppard Reed, also a boy of fifteen. "You
have got it in you to shoot straight and that is all there is to
it. I only wish I could shoot as well."
"How did you fellows make out?" came from a third youth, as he
entered the gallery. He was sixteen years old but hardly as large
as the average lad of ten.
"Snap just made three bull's-eyes!" cried Shep Red. "Made them
as easily as pie, too."
"And what did you make?"
"Made one bull's-eye and two inner rings. Are you going to try your
luck, Giant?"
"Humph!---I don't think I can hit the back of the building unless
they move it up to me," answered Will Caslette. "But I'll take
a chance," he added, turning to the keeper of the gallery and
fishing five cents from his pocket. "Got to learn to shoot if
I'm going on a hunt, you know," he went on, to his chums.
"Then you can go with us?" questioned Charley Dodge, quickly.
"I think so---mother said she would tell me for certain to-morrow."
The small youth took the rifle handed to him and aiming carefully,
pulled the trigger.
"The outer ring," said Shep Reed. "That's not so bad but what
it might be worse, Giant."
"Oh, it might be worse!" answered the small youth, coolly. "I
might fire out of the window and kill somebody on the back street,
or hit a duck in Rackson's pond. Here goes again."
The second shot was a little better, and the third made the bell ring,
much to the small youth's delight.
"Hullo, you fellows!" came from the doorway, a lively boy of fourteen
came in, curly hair dying and a cap set far back on his head.
"Been looking for you all over town for about sixteen hours.
Been shooting, eh? I'll bet a can of buttermilk against a shoestring
that you all made outer rings."
"Hullo, Whopper!" called the others. "Come in and try your luck."
"Can't---I'm dead broke this morning," answered Frank Dawson.
"I've got to wait a year or two till my next allowance comes in."
"Here's the money," answered Charley Dodge, producing five cents.
"Now, Whopper, don't make more than three bull's-eyes."
"I'm going to make twenty-'leven," answered the boy called Whopper.
"Don't you know that I once went into a gallery in the city and
made one hundred bull's-eyes in succession? The proprietor fainted
and didn't get over it for two months."
"Phew! That's the biggest whopper yet!" ejaculated Giant. "Nothing
like living up to your reputation."
The boy who could tell big stories on all occasions took up the
rifle and shot three times with care, and as a result placed three
inner rings to his credit.
"That isn't bad," said Shep Reed. "But Snap is the boss rifleman
of this crowd."
"Then we must make him the leader of our gun club," put in Giant.
"What do you say, fellows?"
"That's it!" cried the others.
"Have you fellows got a gun club?" came from the man who kept the
shooting gallery, curiously.
"We've got something of that sort," answered the newly declared
leader. "You see, we expect to go out on a hunting tour this
fall and so we got together and called ourselves a gun club."
"The Fairview Gun Club," corrected Whopper. "Nothing like giving
a title that looks like something, as the French Count said when
he called himself a duke."
"Where is your club going?"
"Oh, just up in the mountains, back of Lake Cameron," answered
Snap.
"Is the hunting good there?"
"Pretty fair---so old Jed Sanborn says."
"Well, I wish you luck. You boys are good enough shots to bring
down almost anything," said the shooting gallery keeper.
"Come on up to our orchard and talk things over," said Snap, as
he led the way from the gallery, and in a moment more the boys
were on the Street and making their way to Mr. Dodge's apple orchard,
a quarter of a mile from the center of the town. The other boys
knew as well as Snap that there were some fine fall pippins in
the orchard, and, like all growing lads, each loved a good apple.
The town of Fairview was not a large one. There was one main
street and a side street running to the little depot, at which
eight trains stopped daily. There were fifteen shops and stores,
a hotel and three churches. The houses numbered less than a hundred
in the town proper, although many others were located in the rich
farming district close by. Fairview was situated on the Rocky
River, which, ten miles below, flowed into a beautiful sheet of
water called Lake Cameron. The town was noted for its natural
beauty, and in the summertime not a few tourists stopped there.
One of the principal men of the community was Mr. Dodge, Charley's
father. He was rich, but preferred to live on his farm instead
of moving to the town or the city. He was a school trustee and
also held an interest in the summer hotel and in one of the big
saw mills on the river.
Sheppard Reed was the only son of a local physician, who, during
the past twenty years, had built up a substantial practice in
and around Fairview. Shep and Snap, as they were always called,
were close chums, and once in a while their own folks would refer
to them as the Twins.
Frank Dawson had moved to Fairview only two years before, but
had become a general favorite among the boys. He had a habit
of exaggerating most woefully, and this had gained for him the
nickname of Whopper. From this it must not be inferred that Frank
could not tell the truth, for, when it came to the pinch the lad
was as truthful as anybody. His "whoppers" were always so big
that everybody recognized them as such instantly.
Will Caslette, always called Billy or Giant, was the son of a
French widow lady who had come to Fairview on the death of her
husband, seven years before. The widow had just enough to live
on comfortably, and she took a great pride in her offspring, even
though he was so small in stature. But though Billy was small
he was "all there," as the other boys said, and promised to become
a man, every inch of him.
Arriving at the orchard, the four boys walked to one of the best
of the apple trees and with a stick brought down a dozen of the
finest apples. Then they selected a warm spot in the sunshine,
threw themselves on the sward, and began to eat and discuss their
plans at the same time.
"It's a regular windfall for us that the old schoolhouse is going
to be shut up next Wednesday," said Snap. "Just think of two
months of loafing."
"Bless the storm that ripped off part of the roof," came from Shep.
"And bless the fact that they can't get it mended right away,"
was Will's comment. "I don't believe they'll open again until
after the holidays."
"Of course they won't," said Whopper. "They can't do it. They've
got to put on a new roof, mend the water pipes, reset the steps,
paint the place, and do sixteen hundred and one things."
"The best thing we can do is to make all arrangements for going
on our tour bright and early Monday morning," went on Snap. "We
will have from now on to get ready in. That will be plenty of
time."
"Humph! I could get ready in an hour," murmured Whopper. "What's
there to do anyway? Pick up our guns, pack up some grub, take
along a tent and some fishing tackle, and there you are. Easy
as sliding off a banana peel."
"Is it?" came from Snap. "That's all you know about it. In the
first place, you must remember that this is no outing for a day
or two, or even a week. We have got to take supplies for at least
a month, if not two months. And I don't want to live in a tent
when it gets good and cold. We've got to build a shack of some
sort. There will be a hundred and one things to do before we
are ready to start. And it is going to cost something, too."
"How much?" asked Giant, anxiously. "Please don't make the amount
too high, or I won't be able to stand for my share."
"We'll figure it out," said Snap, producing a note-book and a
pencil. "I suppose when it comes to such things as flour, sugar,
salt, coffee and the like, we can get them from our homes. But
there are other things that we will have to buy. For instance,
we will need plenty of powder and shot, and we'll want to take
medicines and plasters along, in case of accidents-----"
"I can get those from my father," interrupted Shep. "He has an
emergency case that will be just the thing."
"How about-----" began Giant, when he stopped short, to gaze at
a man who was running down the road at top speed. "Hullo, Mr.
Harrison!" he called. "Where are you going in such a hurry?"
"Goin' to the fire!" was the puffed-out answer.
"Fire?" ejaculated all of the boys, leaping to their feet. "Where?"
"Down the river. Reckon it's the Barnaby mill," and the man went
on his way.
The boys gazed down the river and saw a thick volume of smoke
rolling skyward. Men and boys were running toward it from every
direction.
"It's the mill, as sure as fate!" cried Snap. "Come on, I'm going
to the fire, fellows!" And away he started.
"Isn't that the mill in which your father owns an interest?" asked
Whopper.
"Yes; he owns a third share," answered Snap.