SPRINGTIME IN THE CAMP
When Owen returned with the horses, Dale had found everything but a bag
of shot that had been resting in the back end of the sleigh when the
catastrophe occurred.
"I can't find the shot anywhere," he said. "It was so heavy that it has
sunk clear out of sight."
"Well, we can't waste time here," was Owen's reply. "Come, help me
hitch up the team and we'll be on our way."
They were soon ready to move, and then came the task of getting the
turnout back to the road at the top of the hollow. Before making the
start Owen tested the ground and the snow in several directions with a
stick.
"We'll try it this way," he said, pointing out the course. "You take
hold of Billy and I'll try to handle Daisy."
With some misgivings, the start was made. The horses lurched and
plunged, and the sleigh creaked and groaned as if ready to go to pieces
then and there.
"One more pull and we'll be up!" cried Owen. "Now then, get up, Daisy!
get up, Billy!"
The team did its best, and now the sleigh was at the very edge of the
trail above. Here was a steep incline of several yards. Billy slipped
and Dale came close to going under the animal's hoofs. But horse and
youth regained their positions, and with a final jerk the horses
reached a firm footing, and the turnout and the young lumbermen came
after them.
"Phew! That's a good job done!" panted Owen, coming to a halt for
breath.
"You're right, Owen. I was afraid we'd have to give it up," panted Dale
in return.
"Here is the bag of shot. It must have fallen out of the sleigh when
the horses first took fright."
"Do you think that bear will bother us any more?"
"I hope not. But you had better keep the shot-gun handy. I'll take the
reins and try to keep them under control, no matter what happens."
The sky had grown darker, and the snow was now coming down in smaller
flakes. These appeared to grow harder, and presently the wind came up,
driving the flakes into their faces like so much salt.
"We're up against a regular snowstorm, and no mistake," remarked Owen.
"We'll be lucky if we reach camp to-night."
"We'll have to reach camp," answered Dale hastily. The prospect of
spending a night among the hills, with no shelter, and with a big bear
in that vicinity, did not appeal to him.
"We'll do the best we can, Dale. I can't see the road, can you?"
"Not more than a yard or two ahead of the horses. But they ought to be
able to keep the trail. They know they are going home."
"If they don't get scared again."
On they went, the sleigh making scarcely a sound, excepting where it
scraped over some wind-swept rock or an exposed tree root. Both of
the young lumbermen kept on guard for a possible encounter with wild
animals, but not so much as a rabbit appeared to disturb them.
"Well, we've got to trust to luck," came from Owen, at last. "I can't
see a thing now."
"Nor I, Owen. Shall we get out and walk?"
"No. Let us make ourselves comfortable in the sleigh, and the horses
can take their own time about covering the ground."
They settled back, expecting the team to slow down. Instead both Billy
and Daisy showed a strong inclination to increase their speed. Then, a
few minutes later, they shot past a clump of trees that looked strongly
familiar to Owen.
"Whoop!" he shouted, straightening up. "I know where we are now, Dale.
Five minutes more and we'll be in sight of camp."
"Good enough," responded Dale, and he too began to watch through the
heavy snow. On and on they went, the team kicking up the snow briskly,
as if aware that the toilsome journey would soon be at an end. Then
they made a turn or two, came down under some wide-arching pines, and
Dale gave a shout:
"The camp! I see the lights!"
He was right, and soon they were coming up to the doorway of the big
cabin. A loud shout brought out several of the lumbermen, including Mr.
Paxton.
"You did well to get home in this storm," said the camp owner. "I
thought sure I wouldn't see you until to-morrow."
"We came pretty close to getting left on the road," answered Owen.
"I'll tell you about it after the turnout is put away."
It was only a short while after this that they were seated at the long
deal table, close to the red-hot stove, eating a generous supper and
relating their tale, to which the men listened with keen interest.
"A bear!" cried Mr. Paxton. "It's a good thing he wasn't real hungry.
If he had been he'd most likely have chewed one of you up."
"I not like the bear," came from Jean Colette. "I meet heem vonce--in
de woods. He come up an' want to hug me. _Bon!_ I run one, two miles to
geet avay. He come after me. I climb de tree. He climb too. Den I drop
down an' run some more. He run too. I swim de pond, an' run an' run,
till I 'most drop dead. Den I am safe. No, Jean Colette, he not like de
bear, only when he is dead an' in de pot!"
At this honest speech many laughed, which did not hurt Colette's
feelings as might have been expected. The only one who showed his
disdain was Baptiste Ducrot.
"Huh! I not run from de bear," he sniffed. "I keel two bear vonce--one
wid a gun an' de udder wid a knife," and then he related the story to
such of the crowd as cared to listen. It was a hair-raising tale and
some enjoyed it, but it is doubtful if anybody believed Ducrot.
"He's a blower," was Gilroy's comment. "He loves to make us believe
he's a wonderful fellow, but I don't see it."
The young lumbermen were afraid that their employer might find fault
with them over the broken sleigh and harness, but Mr. Paxton said that
he thought they had done very well, all things considered.
"I had a little mare get scared over a bear once," he said. "She ran
away with me and threw me into the river and smashed the chaise to
flinders. A horse has no love for a bear, and even a bobcat makes them
uneasy sometimes."
The fall of snow lasted for several days. But after that the weather
changed greatly, and soon the old lumbermen announced that the first
of the spring thaws was at hand. The sun grew warmer, and during the
middle of the day the snow melted rapidly in the nooks that were
sheltered from the north wind and exposed to the sunlight.
Old Joel Winthrop had already reached camp with two expert log drivers,
and the work along the pond and the river went on unceasingly. Every
log brought down to the yards had been marked, and now began the task
of forming the rafts or drives that would be started on their long
journey to boom or mill as soon as the river got to running freely.
"I'd like to go down with one of the drivers," said Dale.
"So would I, Dale," answered Owen. "But I guess we had better stay here
as long as the work holds out. There is no telling what employment
we'll be able to get after we leave the camp."
"I know that, although I am sure John Larson or Peter Odell will give
us work if they want men."
A week later came the announcement that the ice in the river was
breaking up. The whole camp was now a mass of slush and mud, and nobody
thought of wearing anything but boots when he moved about. The last of
the logs from the hills were coming down, and these were yarded at the
extreme end of the pond, for Mr. Paxton was going to hold them back
until the driving on the river was nearly over.
"May get an extra order at the last minute," he explained. "Then the
new cut can go in with the hold-overs."
One fine spring day found Owen and Dale bound for the extreme northwest
limit of the Paxton claim. Mr. Paxton had heard something about the man
on the next claim cutting some of his lumber, and he wanted to find out
if it was so.
"You know my line," he said to Owen. "It's a cut like this." He showed
them with a pencil. "All the timber this side of that line is mine."
The two young lumbermen went on horseback, each carrying a shot-gun,
hoping to bag some game on the trip. The mud and the water running
along every tiny watercourse did not daunt them, and each was in the
best of spirits.
"Our ride will take us close to Pine Tree Lake," said Dale, as they
pushed on. "If we find everything O.K., let us go to the lake and take
a look at the fine lodge belonging to Mr. Jefferson Wilbur."
"I'm willing, if it doesn't take too long, Dale."
"Of course the lodge is locked up now, but perhaps there is a caretaker
there who will show us through. Or, if there isn't, we can look around
the outside and through the stables anyway."
The young lumbermen kept their eyes wide open for game, and succeeded
in getting half a dozen birds of good size. But nothing else appeared,
much to their disappointment.
It lacked an hour of noon when they reached the row of firs marking
the boundary of the Paxton claim. The blazes on the trees were plainly
to be seen, and they followed the line from end to end without much
trouble.
"Nobody has cut any timber here," was Owen's comment. "Some hunters
have cut down some firewood, but that is all. It's a false alarm."
"And we've had the journey for nothing," added Dale. "But I've enjoyed
the trip, haven't you?"
"I should enjoy it more if we could spot some good game."
"Well, the day isn't over yet."
From the northwest corner of the claim was a narrow trail leading to
the south shore of Pine Tree Lake, a body of water quarter of a mile
wide by three-quarters of a mile long. In the middle of the lake was a
long narrow island, on which grew a magnificent pine tree, which gave
to the lake its name.
"Looks almost good enough to take a swim in," remarked Dale, as they
came out on the lake shore.
"I dare you to take a plunge," said Owen.
"Done!" was the reply. "I don't take a dare from anybody."
"Let us take a look at the lodge first," went on Owen.
They could see the place, but a short distance away, standing on
something of a bluff. At the edge of the bluff was a set of steps
running to a tiny wharf, on which was built a boathouse. The lodge
was a low, rambling structure, built of logs and stone, with quaint
carvings and curious casements.
"It's queer he didn't build more of a city-looking house while he was
spending his money," said Owen, as they came closer.
"Oh, I guess he wanted something that looked like the backwoods, Owen.
No doubt he gets tired of city life and city houses."
There was no fence around the lodge, and they rode up the broad
pathway, and then around the corner of the building. As they did this
they saw a man disappear into the building through a window opening on
a low porch.
"Hullo!" cried Dale. "Who was that?"
"It's queer he went through the window," returned Owen.
"It was queer. Let us see who it was," went on Dale, and dismounted
at the side of the porch. Then he went to the open window and peered
inside, never dreaming of the surprise in store for him.