WHAT HAPPENED IN THE WOODS
Noon found them more than halfway on their journey. The pull up one of
the hills had been a tough one and the horses were perfectly content to
rest in the shelter of a clump of trees and munch up the oats brought
along for them.
Finding another sheltered nook the two young lumbermen chopped down
some brushwood and a few dry branches and soon had a roaring fire
started. Over this they made themselves a pot of coffee and warmed up
some of the eating brought along. It was a good meal and thoroughly
enjoyed.
"What fun a fellow could have on a hunting trip for a week or two!"
observed Dale. "I saw half a dozen partridges on the road and some
tracks that looked like those of a deer."
"Yes, indeed, Dale. But we have got to attend to work, or our savings
account won't be near as large as you want it when we reckon up in the
spring." Owen said this dryly, for saving was still a sore subject
with him, although for every dollar put in the box by his chum he
faithfully placed another beside it.
They had brought a gun along, and kept their eyes open for the possible
appearance of some big game--not wishing to waste their limited
ammunition on anything small. But nothing larger than a fox appeared,
and this animal lost no time in seeking cover as soon as discovered by
Owen.
The end of the trip was down into a broad valley bordering a long,
narrow lake. Here the road was narrow and uneven and more than once
they had all they could do to keep the turnout from going over and
spilling them and the contents into the snow.
"I'll get out and make sure of the path," said Owen at last, and went
on ahead, with a long, sharp stick, which he stuck into the snow at
every place that looked doubtful. Thus they avoided more than one
dangerous hollow and reached ground as safe as it was level.
The coming of the two young lumbermen was something of an event in the
Gannett camp, and those who were looking for letters crowded around
eagerly. Gannett himself, a tall, thin logger, all of six feet four
inches in height, greeted them cordially as he gave the hand of each a
tight squeeze.
"Deownright glad to see ye," he drawled. "Guess ye had a kind of
bumpin' ride a-gittin' over, didn't ye?"
"It wasn't as smooth as it might be," answered Owen.
"Well, hardly. I hain't forgot the last time I druv over, not by er
jugful! Got spilt out twict, an' the second time I went into er holler
headfust, clar to my boots! Ye done uncommon well not to spill over."
"The road at our end is good enough; it's your end that needs looking
after," put in Dale, and told how Owen had got out and walked.
"Yes, I know the road is putty bad in my camp," said Philander Gannett.
"But, ye see, I hain't calkerlatin' ter stay here another season.
I'm going to t'other end o' the lake. The timber here aint fit fer
telegraph poles, much less boards,--an' I aint a-workin' fer them pulp
mills an' a-spilin' my timber a-doin' of it."
The camp, in many respects, was similar to that run by Luke Paxton,
so there was nothing of novelty to interest the two young lumbermen.
Yet, after the team was cared for, they took a look around the various
buildings and around the yard at the lake front. At supper time they
ate with Philander Gannett and several of his foremen.
"How long have you been cutting in this neighborhood?" asked Owen,
during the meal.
"This aint but the second season," was Gannett's reply. "Ye see, I
bought this tract from a Boston man, named Jefferson Wilbur--him as
owns thet fancy lodge over to Pine Tree Lake. Wilbur used to run two
camps up here in Maine, but he got sick o' it, an' now I understand
he's a-puttin' his money in timber lands in the Far West, Oregon and
Washington."
"Oregon!" repeated Dale, and his mind went back to the mining venture
in Oregon, in which his father had invested so much money.
"Exactly. He says thet place is the only one to get rich in, an' I
reckon he's right--leas'wise, I don't think I'm a-goin' to git rich
here."
"What part of Oregon is his lumber claim located in?"
"His money is in a company thet has miles and miles o' timber land
along the big rivers. He told me the names, but I've forgotten 'em."
"I've seen his lodge on Pine Tree Lake," said Owen. "It's a handsome
place and must have cost a neat sum to build."
"Twenty-five thousand dollars, so he told me. An' him an' his family
aint there more'n two months out of twelve. Does beat all how some
folks kin throw away money," concluded Philander Gannett, with a sigh.
"I wish I could meet this Jefferson Wilbur," said Dale to Owen, when
they were retiring to the bunk to which they had been assigned. "I'd
like to ask him if he knows anything about that mine my father lost his
money in."
"Most likely he doesn't, Dale. Oregon is a big State, and the lumber
people don't come much in contact with the miners, I guess. And,
besides, this Wilbur is a Boston man, not a Westerner."
The business that had brought Dale and Owen to the camp had been
concluded before retiring, so there was nothing to keep the young
lumbermen from starting on the return as soon as they arose on the
morning following. They were given a hearty breakfast of pancakes,
fried potatoes, salt fish, and coffee, and another lunch was stowed
away in the basket they carried. Then came some letters for those at
the Paxton camp, and away they went, with a crack of the whip, and a
dozen men giving them a parting wave of the hand as they disappeared
among the trees.
The day was not as clear as they had anticipated. The sun was hidden by
a number of dark clouds, and there was a damp feeling in the air, as of
snow.
"We'll be lucky if we get back before the storm lets down on us,"
observed Owen, with an anxious look at the sky. "And I shouldn't be
surprised if the storm proved a heavy one."
"Well, the team ought to make as good time getting back as they did
in coming, Owen. And we needn't stop so long for dinner as we did
yesterday."
Dale walked ahead this time, and soon what they considered the most
dangerous part of the road was passed. Then Dale hopped in beside his
chum, and away they went, at the best speed the team could command.
It lacked still an hour of noon when the first flakes of the coming
storm fell upon them. They were large flakes, and floated down as
lightly as so many feathers. Then they grew thicker and thicker, until
the landscape on all sides was obscured by them.
"We are going to have our hands full keeping to the road now," said
Owen, shading his eyes with his palm. "I must say I can't see much."
"The horses ought to know their own tracks."
"That is true."
Fifteen minutes went by, and the snow kept growing thicker and thicker.
Owen was on the point of pulling up, when of a sudden one of the horses
gave a snort and reared up violently.
The act was so unexpected that Dale and Owen were completely
astonished. Both clutched the lines and held on while the sleigh began
to go backwards in a semicircle.
"Whoa, Billy!" roared Owen. "Whoa! What in the world is the matter with
you?"
"A bear!" cried Dale, and stared ahead. He was right; a bear had
appeared in the road, directly in front of the team. Now the second
horse began to rear and snort, and the sleigh moved back faster than
ever.
[Illustration: "A bear!" cried Dale.]
"Get the gun!" cried Owen. "I'll hold the lines!"
The weapon was behind the seat, under a patch of oilskin cloth, and
it took Dale several seconds to secure it. By that time the bear had
crossed the road, and they could hear the beast crashing along in the
timber beyond.
"Where is he?"
"Gone, over there!" Owen gripped the lines tighter than ever. "Whoa,
Billy! Whoa, Daisy! Whoa, I tell you, or we'll have a smash-up sure.
Whoa!"
But the team was thoroughly scared, and continued to snort and plunge.
Snap! went one strap and then another, and a sharp crack told that one
of the runners of the sleigh was broken likewise.
The young lumbermen had been rounding a bend of the hill trail. Just
ahead the road was level enough, but to the rear it sloped away to
a hollow, filled with scrub pine, brushwood, and drifted snow. Owen
was afraid that they would go into this hollow, and they did, with a
suddenness that left them no time in which to leap to a point of safety.
Down went the sleigh, turning completely over and burying Dale and
Owen beneath it. The horses came down too, and began to flounder at a
furious rate in the snow and the bushes.
It looked as if both Dale and Owen might be killed as the result of
the accident, but the soft snow at the bottom of the hollow saved them
from all harm but a few scratches. Both sank between two rather stout
bushes, while the sleigh landed on the top of the undergrowth and stuck
there, just over their heads. Then the horses, by some miraculous
means, gained their feet once more, and dashed down the remainder of
the slope, until a line of scrub pines barred their further progress.
Here they stood still, panting, but evidently satisfied that their
present danger was over.
"Dale!" It was nearly a minute later when Owen crawled forth and freed
his mouth from snow sufficiently to speak. "Dale, are you alive?"
"I--I guess I am--I don't know for sure," was the spluttered-out
answer. "What a tumble that was!"
"There are the horses, down by the trees. I'm glad they didn't run any
farther."
"The sleigh is a wreck!" said Dale, gazing sorrowfully at the upturned
outfit. Then he looked at the gun which was still in his grasp. "It's
lucky this didn't go off and hit one of us. Where is that bear?"
Both gazed around, but the beast was not in sight. Then they looked at
the wrecked sleigh, at the horses, and then at each other.
"We're in a pickle, Owen!"
"It's a pretty snowy one, Dale. See what you can do with this sleigh,
while I go and secure those horses. If they get away we shall be in a
fix."
Securing the animals was easy, and a few gentle words soon quieted them
down. Then Owen tied them fast and returned to where he had left Dale.
On examination they found that one of the runners of the sleigh was
cracked, but not broken completely off, and around the cracked portion
they wound some stout cord, making it almost as strong as before. Then
they turned the outfit right side up and searched about for the load,
which had been spilled in all directions.
"It's snowing harder than ever," said Dale. "And some of the things I
can't see anywhere."
"I've got to mend that harness," came from his chum.
Owen went down to patch up the broken straps, while Dale continued to
hunt for the missing things. As the younger of the two had said, the
storm was increasing, and both felt that the troubles of the trip were
by no means at an end.