THE BLIZZARD
"Now for some more game!" cried Ned, as Frank tied the legs of the
turkey and slung the bird across his back in true hunter fashion.
"Guess we'll have to tramp a long distance before we get any more,"
remarked Fenn. "All the turkeys for a mile around heard the guns and
they'll keep to deep cover."
However the boys, ever hopeful, resumed their tramp. They found plenty
of turkey tracks but no birds, and, after covering several miles,
decided to make their way back to camp, as it was getting dark early on
account of the storm.
They got the right direction, by means of the compass, and were within
about a mile of where they had set up the tent when Bart, who was ahead,
suddenly halted.
"What is it?" asked Fenn, as he saw his chum aiming his gun up through
the low branches of a tree near which he had stopped.
For answer Bart fired. There was a flutter of big wings, a protesting
gobble or two, and a big turkey cock fell to the ground.
"There, I knew I'd get him!" Bart cried as he ran forward and secured
his prize. "I saw him roosting up in the branches, and I fired before he
could get away. I knew I'd get him!"
"You don't think this is the same one you fired at a while ago, do you?"
asked Ned.
"Well, it's one just as big and just as good," retorted Bart. "I'm
satisfied if he is."
He slung the gobbler, which was a large fat one, over his shoulder and
went on, much pleased with himself and his new gun.
"Guess we'll have roast turkey to-night all right," Frank remarked as
they trudged along.
"I guess not, if I have to cook it!" exclaimed Fenn. "It's too late to
dress any birds to-night. Canned stuff and coffee for yours."
"Well, to-morrow then," Frank insisted. "We've got to have a turkey
dinner while we're in the woods."
It was almost dark when they reached camp. They lighted some lanterns,
and built a big fire, while Fenn, who had been elected cook, got supper
ready. The other boys cleared out the tent for sleeping purposes.
When the boys awoke in the morning it was to find the ground covered
about a foot deep with snow. The flakes had ceased falling, but it was
much colder, and there was a stiff wind. Gray clouds covered the sky,
and altogether it was rather a cheerless prospect.
But the boys' spirits were proof against almost anything. With some hot
coffee to warm them up, and some hot canned meat, which Fenn prepared,
they were ready for another day of tramping through the woods after
game.
"What do you say to moving camp?" suggested Bart. "I'm afraid we've
scared from around here whatever there was in the way of turkeys and
rabbits. We can put our stuff on the sled and pull it through the snow."
This was agreed to, and soon the runners were adjusted over the wheels,
and the four boys were pulling the sleigh with the camp outfit.
They went slowly, picking their way as best they could among the trees.
On a down grade, where two were enough at the rope, Bart and Frank went
ahead to see if they could observe any signs of game. Frank killed a fat
rabbit, but Bart fired at one and missed.
They went about four miles farther into the forest and, as they saw
turkey tracks, they decided to camp there.
"We'll have an early dinner, put the turkey hen on to roast, and go off
hunting the rest of the day," decided Fenn.
The turkey was prepared in a somewhat rough fashion and put to roast in
the oven of the portable stove. When it was nearly done the fire was
allowed to cool down.
"All we have to do when we get back is to start a small blaze and we'll
have hot turkey," explained Fenn. Some dry wood was placed within the
tent to keep it safe in case it began to snow again, and, fastening the
flaps, the boys set off.
They had better luck this time, and managed to get a turkey apiece,
though they were only hens, and not very large.
"We ought to each get a big gobbler before we go back home," Bart said.
"You fellows want to look alive. I've got mine."
"You had all the luck," retorted Ned.
But the gobblers seemed too wise to come within the reach of the boys'
guns, and when it came time to make back-tracks for camp there was none
numbered among the slain. Several more rabbits had been secured,
however, and the boys were well satisfied.
"My mouth waters for that roast turkey," exclaimed Ned, as he tramped
through the snow. "I want a piece of the breast and some of the brown
skin. Just a bit of dressing, please, and a spoonful of gravy!"
"Let up!" cried Bart. "I'm half starved!"
Ned's anticipations of the turkey were fully realized. It may not have
been done just to the turn a French chef would call proper, but the boys
thought they had never eaten anything half so good. There was little
left when they had finished.
"We'd better circle around so's to fetch up near where Jim's to meet us
to-night," remarked Bart as they crawled out of the blankets Wednesday
morning. The cold had increased and the wind was blowing half a gale.
The tent was struck, after a hasty breakfast, and, with the other
things, not forgetting the game, was packed upon the sled. The boys
started off, intending to make a large circle and bring up that evening
where Jim had left them, in time to meet him. They would not erect the
tent again.
They managed to kill several hen turkeys, another gobbler, which fell to
Ned's gun, and a couple of rabbits, but most of the game seemed to have
disappeared, and there was no more in the vicinity of where the boys
tramped, dragging the sled after them.
They halted for dinner in a dense part of the forest, and, after the
meal, started for the place where the corduroy road ended. They judged
it to be about six miles from where they were, and knew it would take
them about until night-fall to reach it.
It was hard work, pulling the sled, but the exercise kept them warm, and
they trudged on, plunging into drifts which the wind quickly raised. It
started to snow again and the flakes began to blow across their path
whipped into stinging particles by the force of the gale. They were
enveloped in a white cloud through which they could see only dimly.
"Say, it's getting worse and worse!" exclaimed Ned, as he paused for
breath after a particularly stiff bit of pulling.
"Boys, it's a regular blizzard, that's what it is," cried Bart. "We're
certainly in for it now. I don't believe Jim will come for us in a storm
like this."
"If it isn't a blizzard it's the best imitation of one I ever saw,"
remarked Frank. "What are we going to do?"
"Only thing is to keep on," replied Bart.
"Are we going in the right direction?" asked Ned. "Fenn, suppose you
take a look at the compass."
Fenn, who carried the little instrument, reached in his overcoat pocket
for it. He did not find it. Then he looked in several other pockets.
"What's the matter? Haven't lost it, have you?" asked Bart.
"I'm afraid so. Didn't I give it to you, Ned, this morning?"
"Never saw it," replied Ned.
Fenn made a more thorough search. The compass was not to be found. The
boys stood there helplessly, in the midst of the howling storm, which
was now at its height.
The snow was a blinding, scurrying, mass of flakes which stung their
faces like needles. Overhead the trees were bending to the blast and the
gale was roaring through the branches. There was no path. Ten feet ahead
it looked like a blank white wall.
"Boys, we're lost in the woods, and the blizzard is getting worse!"
cried Bart, almost having to shout to make himself heard above the
storm.