CHAPTER I_The Gun Club boys of Lakeport

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[Illustration: The old hunter was at hand]

Lakeport Series

THE GUN CLUB BOYS OF LAKEPORT

The Island Camp

EDWARD STRATEMEYER

Author of “The Baseball Boys of Lakeport,” “Dave Porter at Oak Hall,”

“Old Glory Series,” “Pan-American Series,” Etc.

Illustrated

[Illustration: (uncaptioned)]

Boston

Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Co.

“The Island Camp.”

PREFACE.

This story is a complete tale in itself, and it also forms the first

volume of a series to be devoted to sport in the forest, on the water,

and on the athletic field.

My object in writing this tale was two-fold: first, to present to the

boys a story which would please them, and, second, to give my young

readers an insight into Nature as presented in the depths of the forest

during the winter.

The young hunters of Lakeport are no different from thousands of other

youths of to-day. Although they do some brave deeds, they are no heroes

in the accepted sense of that term, and at certain times they get scared

just as others might under similar circumstances. They are light-hearted

and full of fun, and not above playing some odd practical jokes upon

each other. In the old and experienced hunter, who goes with them on

this never-to-be-forgotten outing, they find a companion exactly to

their liking, and one who teaches them not a few “points” about hunting

that are worth knowing.

The scene of this tale is laid in one of our eastern states. A few years

ago small game of all kinds was plentiful there, and deer, moose, and

even bears, could also be laid low. But some of the larger animals are

fast disappearing, and it is now only a question of time when they will

be wiped out altogether. This seems a great pity; but the march of the

lumberman and the progress of the farmer cannot be stayed.

Edward Stratemeyer.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE

I. What Happened in a Snowstorm 1

II. The Dugans to the Rescue 12

III. A Fruitless Search 24

IV. Skating 37

V. A Quarrel on the Ice 44

VI. Organizing the Club 56

VII. The First Day in Camp 71

VIII. What Happened at Night 83

IX. At a Deer Hunt 95

X. Among the Wolves 104

XI. Confronted by the Enemy 116

XII. Driven from the Lodge 125

XIII. Lost in a Blizzard 137

XIV. The Enemy Asks a Favor 149

XV. A Midnight Visitor 161

XVI. Back to the Lodge 173

XVII. A Search and a Bear 185

XVIII. A Fire, and What Followed 197

XIX. A Gathering of Young Hunters 209

XX. Building the New Shelter 219

XXI. The Fight of the Pine Martens 229

XXII. Teddy Meets “The Indians” 239

XXIII. Pike Spearing through the Ice 249

XXIV. A Battle with a Wolverene 261

XXV. Teddy Evens the Score 270

XXVI. The House in the Woods 279

XXVII. A Plan for a Capture 286

XXVIII. The Last of the Tramps 294

XXIX. A Great Moose Hunt 303

XXX. The Find—End of the Outing 312

THE GUN CLUB BOYS OF LAKEPORT

CHAPTER I

WHAT HAPPENED IN A SNOWSTORM

“How many miles have we still to go, Harry?”

“I think about four,” answered Harry Westmore, as he looked around him

on the country road he and his brother were traveling. “I must say, I

didn’t think the walk would be such a long one, did you?”

“No, I thought we’d be back home before this,” came from Joe Westmore.

“I wish we could find some sort of a signboard. For all we know, we may

be on the wrong road.”

“There used to be signboards on all of these roads, but I heard Joel

Runnell tell that some tramps had torn them down and used them for

firewood.”

“Yes, they did it for that, and I guess they took ’em down so that folks

could miss their way, too. Those tramps are not above waylaying folks

and making them give up all they’ve got in their pockets.”

“I believe you there. But since Sheriff Clowes rounded up about a dozen

of ’em last month they have kept themselves scarce. Phew! How the wind

blows!”

“Yes, and how the snow is coming down! If we are not careful, we’ll not

get home at all. I hadn’t any idea it was going to snow when we left

home.”

“I’m afraid if we don’t get home by dark mother will worry about us.”

“Oh, she knows we are old enough to take care of ourselves. If it snows

too hard we can seek shelter at the next farmhouse we come to and wait

until it clears off.”

The two Westmore boys, of whom Joe was the older by a year and a day,

had left their home at Lakeport early that morning for a long tramp into

the country after some late fall nuts which a friend had told them were

plentiful at a locality known as Glasby’s Hill. They knew the Hill was a

long way off, but had not expected such a journey to get to it. The

bridge was down over one of the country streams and this had

necessitated a walk of over a mile to another bridge, and here the road

was not near as good as that on which they had been traveling. Then,

after the nuts were found and two fair-sized bags gathered, it had begun

to snow and blow, until now the wind was sailing by them at a great rate

and the snow was coming down so fast that it threatened to obliterate

the landscape around them.

The Westmore family were six in number, Mr. Horace Westmore and his

wife, the boys just introduced, and two younger children named Laura and

Bessie. Mr. Westmore was a flour and feed dealer, and had the principal

establishment of that kind in Lakeport, at the lower end of Pine Lake.

While the merchant was not rich, he was fairly well-to-do, and the

family moved in the best society that the lake district afforded. On

Mrs. Westmore’s side there had once been much wealth, but an unexpected

turn of fortune had left her father almost penniless at his death. There

was a rumor that the dead man had left to his daughter the rights to a

valuable tract of land located at the head of the lake, but though Mr.

Westmore tried his best he could not establish any such claim. The land

was there, held by a miserly real estate dealer of Brookside named Hiram

Skeetles; but Skeetles declared that the property was his own, free and

clear, and that Mrs. Westmore’s father had never had any right to it

whatsoever.

“What’s mine is mine, and don’t ye go for to forgit it!” Hiram Skeetles

had snarled, during his last interview with Horace Westmore on the

subject. “Ye ain’t got nary a slip o’ paper to show it ever belonged to

Henry Anderson. I don’t want ye to bother me no more. If ye do, I’ll

have the law on ye!” And Mr. Westmore had come away feeling that the

case was decidedly a hopeless one.

“It’s a shame mother and father can’t bring old Skeetles to time,” had

been Joe’s comment, when he heard of the interview. “I wouldn’t trust

that old skinflint to do the square thing.”

“Nor I,” had come from Harry. “But if Grandfather Anderson had any deeds

or other papers what did he do with them?”

“I’m sure I don’t know. Mother said she saw some papers once—years ago,

when she was a young girl—but she never saw them after that,” had been

Joe’s comment; and there the subject had been dropped.

With their bags of nuts over their shoulders the two boys continued to

trudge along in the direction of home. The loads had not seemed heavy at

starting, but now each bag was a dead weight that grew harder to carry

at every step.

“Let us rest for awhile,” said Joe, at length. “I must have a chance to

get my wind.”

“Isn’t there wind enough flying around loose,” returned his brother,

with a faint grin. “Just open your mouth wide and you’ll gather in pure,

unadulterated ozone by the barrelful.”

“It’s the wind that’s taking my wind, Harry. I feel as if I’d been

rowing a two-mile race, or just made a home run on the baseball field.”

“Or a touchdown on the gridiron, eh? Say, but that last game of football

with the Fordhams was great, wasn’t it?”

The two boys had moved on a few steps further, and now, through the

flying snow, caught sight of a dilapidated barn standing close to the

roadway.

“Hurrah! here’s a shelter, made to order!” cried Joe. “Let us go in and

take a quarter of an hour’s rest.”

“Yes, and eat a few of the nuts,” added Harry. “My! but ain’t I hungry.

I’m going to eat all there is on the table when I get home.”

“Then you wouldn’t refuse a mince pie right now, would you?”

At this question Harry gave a mock groan. “Please don’t mention it!

You’ll give me palpitation of the heart. If you’ve got a mince pie

tucked away in your vest pocket, trot it out.”

“Wish I had. But stop talking and come into the barn. It isn’t a

first-class hotel, but it’s a hundred per cent. better than nothing,

with a fraction added.”

Like many a similar structure, the old barn had no door or window on the

road side, so they had to go around to the back to get in. As they

turned the corner of the building they caught sight of two men who stood

in the tumble-down doorway. The men were rough-looking individuals and

shabbily dressed, and when they saw them the lads came to a halt.

“Hullo, who are you?” demanded one of the men, who possessed a head of

tangled red hair and an equally tangled red beard.

“We were traveling on the road and came around here for a little shelter

from the storm,” answered Joe. He did not like the appearance of the two

tramps—for such they were—and neither did Harry.

At the explanation the tramp muttered something which the two boys did

not catch. At the same time a third tramp came forth from the barn,

wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Maybe they’re from that farm back here,” he said, with a jerk of his

head over the shoulder. “I believe there was a couple o’ boys up there.”

“No, we’re not from any farm,” answered Harry. “We come from Lakeport.”

“What have ye in them bags?” put in the tramp who had not yet spoken.

“Nuts. We have been out nutting.”

“Humph! Thought as how nuts was all gone by this time.”

“We heard of a spot that hadn’t been visited,” said Joe. He looked at

his brother significantly. “Guess we had better be moving on.”

“Oh, don’t hurry yourselves, gents,” came quickly from the tramp with

the red and tangled beard. “Come in an’ rest all yer please. We’re

keepin’ open house to-day,” and he gave a low laugh.

“Thank you, but we haven’t a great deal of time to spare,” said Harry.

“Come, Joe,” he went on, and started to move toward the roadway once

more.

He had scarcely taken two steps when the tramp with the red beard caught

him by the shoulder.

“Don’t go,” he said pointedly. “Come in an’ warm up. We’ve got a bit o’

a fire in there.”

“A fire?” queried Harry, not knowing what else to say. “Aren’t you

afraid you’ll burn the barn down?”

“Not much! Even if she went, the buildin’ ain’t worth much. Come on in.”

The tramp had a firm grip on Harry’s arm by this time and now the other

two got between Joe and the roadway.

It must be confessed that the two lads were much dismayed. As already

noted, they knew that folks in that neighborhood had been waylaid by

tramps in the past, and they now felt that a similar experience was in

store for them. How to get out of such a dilemma was a serious question.

“We don’t want to stop with you,” said Joe, as sharply as he could,

although his heart beat violently. “Let me pass, please.”

“But we ain’t goin’ to let yer pass just yet, young feller,” said one of

the tramps. “Come on in an’ be sociable.”

“We don’t mean for to hurt ye!” put in another. “So don’t git scart. If

ye belong down to Lakeport we’ll treat yer right.”

“We don’t wish to stay, I tell you,” went on Joe. “Let me pass, do you

hear?”

“And let me go, too,” added Harry. He tried to twist himself loose but

could not, for the tramp was strong and had a good clutch.

“Peppery youngsters,” drawled the tramp with the red hair. “Got to teach

’em manners, I guess. Shove ’em into the barn, boys. There don’t seem to

be nobuddy else around, an’ it looks like we had run up against a real

good thing!”

“Do you mean to say that you intend to rob us?” cried Joe, as he

struggled to free himself from the man who had him by the collar.

“Rob yer? Who said anything ’bout robbin’ yer? We’re honest men, we are!

Come on inside, an’ behave yerself!”

And with this Joe was shoved toward the barn door. He tried to struggle,

but it was useless. Using brute force the tramps almost pitched him

inside, and Harry followed in a similar manner. Then the tramp with the

red beard set up the broken-down door before the opening and stood on

guard with a club in his hand.