JACK'S HAZARDOUS PLAN
The boys crowded up around Jack and peered through an opening in the
tent flap.
"Blizzard! I should say so!" exclaimed Nat. "It's fierce! How are we
going to cook any breakfast?"
"Me show," answered Long Gun with a grin. Then he pointed to where he
and Budge, the day before, had constructed, inside the living tent, a
small fireplace of stones and earth. There was a piece of pipe that
extended outside the canvas wall, and in the improvised stove a blaze
was soon started, over which coffee was made, and some bacon fried.
"Let's go out and see what it's like," proposed Sam, as he wrapped
himself up warmly.
"No go far," cautioned Long Gun. "No git back if yo' do. Heap bad
storm."
"There's no danger of Sam going too far," said Jack. "He's too fond of
the warm stove."
"Get out!" replied Sam. "I can stand as much cold as you can."
But none of the boys cared to be long in that biting cold, for the wind
sent the snowflakes into their faces with stinging force, and the white
crystals came down so thickly that had they gone far from the tent it is
doubtful if they could have found their way back again.
The horses were sheltered in a shack that had been built of saplings,
with leaves and earth banked around it and on the roof, and the animals,
huddled closely together, were warm and comfortable.
Inside the big tent, where the members of the gun club stayed, it was
not cold, for Long Gun and Budge kept the fire going in the stone stove,
and as the tent was well banked around the bottom, but little of the
biting wind entered.
Nothing could be done, as it was not safe to venture out, so the boys
put in the day cleaning their guns, polishing some of the horn trophies
they had secured, and talking of what had happened so far on their
camping trip.
Toward evening Long Gun went out to the supply tent to get some meat to
cook. He came back in a hurry, his face showing much surprise.
"What's the matter?" asked Jack quickly.
"Meat gone!" exclaimed the Indian. "Something take him from tent."
The boys rushed out into the storm toward the smaller canvas shelter
where their food and supplies were kept. One side had been torn down,
and within there was a scene of confusion.
In the fierceness of the storm, while the campers had been in the big
tent, some wild beast, or, perhaps, several of them, had stolen up and
carried away most of the food on which Jack and his chums depended. Nor
could it be said what beasts had robbed them, for their tracks were
obliterated by the snow that had fallen since.
"Well, this is tough luck!" exclaimed Jack. "What are we going to do
now?"
"There's some bacon left from breakfast," said Budge. "Have to eat that,
I guess."
"Yes; and, thank goodness, the thieves didn't care for coffee," added
Nat. "We sha'n't starve, at least, to-night."
"There's some canned stuff left, too," went on Will.
"But it won't last long, if this storm keeps up," spoke Jack seriously.
"I guess we're going to be up against it, fellows."
"Like fish?" asked Long Gun suddenly.
"What have fish got to do with it?" inquired Bony.
"Catch fish through ice soon. Storm stop," replied the Indian. "River
plenty full fish."
"That's a good idea," commented Jack. "But when will the blizzard stop?"
It kept up all that night and part of the next day. The campers were on
short rations, as regards meat, though there was plenty of canned baked
beans, and enough hardtack for some time yet, while there was flour that
could be made into biscuits. But they needed meat, or something like it,
in that cold climate.
It was late the next afternoon when Jack, looking from the tent,
announced:
"Hurrah, fellows! It's stopped snowing, and the wind has gone down. Now
for some fish through the ice. Long Gun, come on and show us how."
The Indian got some lines and hooks ready, using salt pork for bait.
Then the whole party went down to the river, traveling on snowshoes, for
there was a great depth to the snow, and it was quite soft.
It was no easy task to scrape away the white blanket and get down to the
ice that covered the river, but they managed it. Holes were chopped in
the frozen surface of the stream, and then they all began to fish. They
had good luck, and soon had caught enough of the finny residents of the
Shoshone to make a good meal.
"Um-um!" exclaimed Bony, as they sat down to supper a little later.
"Maybe this doesn't taste fine!" and he extended his plate for some more
of the fish, fried brown in corn meal, with bacon as a flavoring.
The next day Jack, Nat and Sam went out and killed some jack-rabbits,
and this served them until two days later, when Jack killed a fat ram
and Will a small deer.
All danger of a short food supply was thus obviated, and, the damaged
tent having been repaired, the boys prepared to resume their hunt.
"We've only about three weeks more," announced Jack one night. "If we
stay much longer we may get snowed in and have to stay until spring."
"Well, that wouldn't be so bad," spoke Bony.
"I know why Jack wants to start back," spoke Sam. "He is going to stop
at Pryor's Gap and see a certain party with brown eyes, who----"
Then Sam dodged to avoid the snowshoe which his chum threw across the
tent at him.
"When are we going to make another try to discover the secret of the
strange camp?" asked Nat when quiet was restored.
"That's so. When?" asked Will. "We haven't heard that queer noise
lately."
"We'll see what we can do to-morrow," answered Jack.
That night the lads were startled by again hearing that strange sound in
the air over their camp. But this time it seemed farther away, and only
lasted a short time, while Jack, who rushed out the moment he heard it,
could discover nothing.
Jack, Nat, Sam, Bony and Will started off early the next morning on
snowshoes for the top of the mountain, in accordance with a plan Jack
had formed of trying to reach the camp of the men from a point directly
back of the place whence they had been ordered away.
They reached the summit of the mountain and found, as Long Gun had said
they would, a trail leading directly down. But it was so steep and so
covered with snow that it seemed risky to attempt it.
"We can never get down there," said Nat.
"Sure we can," declared Jack.
"We might if we had some of those long, wooden snowshoes, like
barrel-staves, which the Norwegians use," spoke Sam. "Otherwise I don't
see how we're going to do it."
Jack did not reply. Instead he was walking slowly along what seemed to
be an abandoned trail. Suddenly he uttered an exclamation.
"The very thing!" he cried.
"What?" asked Bony.
"That old sled," answered Jack, pointing to a sort of bobsled, that had
evidently been made by lumbermen. It consisted of a platform of slabs,
on long, broad, wooden runners, and stood near an abandoned camp.
"How can we use that?" asked Nat.
"Get on it and slide down the mountain," daringly proposed Jack.
"There's plenty of snow. The old sled will hold us all, and maybe we can
ride right into their camp lickity-split. Then they can't put us out
until we've seen what's going on. Will you go?"
The boys hesitated a moment. It was a hazardous plan, one fraught with
danger, but they were not the lads to draw back for that. It seemed the
only feasible way of getting down the mountain.