THE ENEMY ASKS A FAVOR
As soon as he reached the lake shore, Joel Runnell realized that the
snowstorm was fast turning into a blizzard that was likely to last for
several days.
“It’s going to be a hummer,” muttered the old hunter to himself. And
then, as he gazed out upon the storm-swept ice, he added: “It’s too bad
those boys ain’t back.”
Pulling down his cap and buttoning his coat up around his ears, he
stepped out on the ice and began the journey to the main shore. The wind
roared and tore all around him, and his progress was necessarily slow.
More than once he had to stop to catch his breath.
It was during one of those resting spells that he heard a gun shot not
many rods away. Feeling it must be a signal, he fired in return, and
then started in the direction with all the speed he could command.
The first he knew of the proximity of the young hunters was when he
stumbled over Joe’s body, half covered with the drifting snow.
“Joe!” he exclaimed. “And Harry! This is too bad!”
He bent over Joe, and tried his best to arouse the young hunter. This
was difficult, but at last Joe opened his eyes and stared vacantly
around him.
“Wha—what do you want? Why can’t you let me sleep?” he murmured, softly.
“Get up, Joe. You are close to camp. Rouse yourself, my boy. You can’t
stay here.”
“Oh, Runnell, is it you? I—I——”
“Yes, yes, I know. Get up. I’ll take Harry.”
The old hunter assisted Joe to his feet. Then he lifted Harry bodily,
and with the younger lad over his shoulder, and the other by the arm, he
started back whence he had come.
How they all reached shore was little short of a miracle, for the snow
and wind whizzed and shrieked around them more madly than ever. Once
Joel Runnell thought he would have to give up. But he set his teeth hard
and pushed on, until at last he saw a flash of fire, and knew he was
close to the shelter. He set up a feeble shout:
“Hello, Fred! Start up that fire, quick! And make a pot of hot coffee!
I’ve found ’em, and they’re half frozen to death!”
At this cry Fred appeared. He was scared, but realizing that rapid
action was necessary, he piled the wood on the camp fire and set a pot
of water to boiling. Then he helped the others into the shelter and
arranged the blankets afresh, that all of them might be made as warm and
comfortable as possible.
Joe recovered before long, but they had to work over Harry a good half
hour before old Runnell pronounced him out of danger. One of his ears
had been nipped by the cold, and so had his left foot.
“It was a close call,” said Harry, when he could talk. “I sank down just
as if I was in a dream. I felt horrible just before that, but that
feeling passed completely away.”
“Such a sleep is what hunters call the sleep of death,” answered Joel
Runnell, with a shudder. “I had it once, when I was a young man. I was
half frozen, and it took me weeks to get over it.”
The hot coffee served to warm all of them up, and as soon as he felt
able, Runnell went out to cut more wood, assisted by Fred. The latter
wanted to go out on the lake and bring in the abandoned deer, but the
old hunter would not listen to it.
“We’ll wait until the storm is over,” he said. “No use of risking your
life now.”
The wood was piled on both sides of the shelter, and this helped to
protect them from the wind. Runnell also placed a big flat rock over the
fire, and when his was very hot, transferred it to the center of the
shelter, and put another rock to heat.
“That will make a footwarmer,” he said. “And when it is cold, we can
exchange it for the one that is now getting warm,” and this was done,
much to the satisfaction of everybody.
All that night the snow fell as hard as ever, and toward morning the
wind increased to such a degree that they were afraid the pines would
come down over their heads. Nobody could sleep, and they crouched near
the shelter entrance, ready to leap out at the first intimation of
danger. At a distance they heard a large tree come down with the report
of a cannon. The snow sifted in despite all they could do to keep it
out, and they had to work constantly to keep from being snowed under and
smothered.
“And to think that old Skeetles and Dan Marcy are having it as
comfortable as you please at the lodge,” said Joe, in deep disgust.
“It’s a shame!”
“Don’t say a word,” put in Fred. “For two pins I’d go over there and
clear them out at the point of a gun.”
“In one way they are worse off than we are,” came from Harry. “They have
nothing but deer meat, while we have all kinds of stores. They’ll get
mighty sick of venison if they have to stay at the lodge many days.”
“I hope they do get sick.”
With the coming of daylight the wind went down a little. But it still
snowed as hard as ever, and old Runnell advised that the young hunters
remain in or near the shelter.
“I’ll go out and bring in that one deer,” he said. “The other one we’ll
let go till later. We don’t really need it, anyway.”
He waited until nearly noon before starting, and in the meantime the
boys banked up the snow all around the shelter and the fire, making a
wall six feet and more in height.
“Now we’ve got our house inclosed in a yard,” came from Fred.
“We’ll get a good deal more of the heat than we did before,” said Harry,
and he was right. With the wall forcing the heat into the shelter, the
place was at last really comfortable.
Joel Runnell was out the best part of two hours, and the boys waited
anxiously for his return. At last he hove into sight, covered with snow,
and dragging one of the deer behind him. He had also brought in Harry’s
gun, which had been lost the day before.
“No use of talking, the storm is fearful out on the lake,” said Runnell.
“And down on the shore there is a ridge of snow all of twelve feet high.
This will block everything for a while in Lakeport and elsewhere.”
“I suppose our folks will worry about us,” put in Harry. “It’s too bad
they don’t know we are safe.”
The remainder of the day passed slowly. Harry had brought along a small
measure of corn for popping, and they amused themselves by popping this
over the fire, salting and eating it. Joel Runnell also told them a
hunting story, which all enjoyed.
The next day the snow continued, and on the day following the wind again
arose, sending the drifts higher than ever. Thus a Sunday was passed in
the shelter. It was not until Tuesday noon that the storm passed away as
if by magic, and the sun came out brightly.
“Hurrah! it’s over at last, thank goodness!” cried Harry, as he leaped
outdoors. “My! but doesn’t it feel good to see the sun once more!”
“That’s all right,” returned Fred. “But if we aren’t snowed in we are
next door to it.”
“The sun will make the snow just right for snowshoe walking,” said Joe.
“And we ought to be able to track down some sort of game without half
trying.”
They found the pines above the shelter fairly groaning with their weight
of snow. But back of these the ground was swept almost bare.
“I’m going to see how the lodge looks,” said Joe, and started off.
Equally curious, the others followed him.
They found Snow Lodge true to its name. It was snowed in completely,
only a small portion of the roof, an upper corner of one window, and the
rough chimney being visible.
“Skeetles and Marcy are prisoners of the storm,” said Harry, with a
grin. “Let’s give ’em a salute.”
He made a snowball and threw it at the corner of the window, which was
open to admit the air. His aim was true, and the snow went through the
opening, followed by balls thrown by Joe and Fred.
An instant later Hiram Skeetles’ face appeared, full of alarm, which
quickly changed to rage.
“Hi, you, stop that!” he roared. “Stop it, I say!”
“How are you feeling to-day?” questioned Joe, coolly. “We thought we’d
come over and give you a call.”
“Don’t throw any more snowballs. One hit me right in the chin.”
“And one hit me on the top of the head,” put in Marcy, who stood behind
the real estate dealer.
“What do you mean by staying around this island after I ordered you
away?” went on Hiram Skeetles, after a pause.
“Did you expect us to do any traveling in this storm?” asked Joel
Runnell, in return.
“How far do you think you could travel, Mr. Skeetles?” asked Fred. “The
snow in some places is ten and twelve feet deep.”
“Say, is it really as deep as that?” came from Dan Marcy, in deep
concern.
“Yes, every bit of it.”
“Then we are booked to stay here for several days longer,” said the
bully to the real estate dealer. “And I must say I am dog-tired of
nothing but deer meat to eat.”
Marcy said this because all of the stores taken from the other party
were gone, even to the coffee and salt pork. As Harry had surmised, they
now had nothing but the deer meat, and the best of this was gone.
“Where are you stopping?” questioned Hiram Skeetles, after another
pause.
“That’s our business,” answered Joe, before anybody else could speak.
“Have you—er—have you any stores you—er—want to sell?”
“Don’t be a fool!” whispered Marcy. “They won’t let us have a thing. If
we want anything we’ll have to take it by force.”
“Thanks, but we are not in business here,” came from Fred.
“You—er—might let us have a few things. I’ll pay you a fair price for
them,” went on the real estate dealer. It galled him to ask the favor,
but he wanted the goods very much.
“Haven’t you got anything?” asked Runnell.
“We have—er—some deer meat, but that is all.”
“And that is meat you stole from us,” put in Harry.
“Don’t say ‘stole,’ my boy. We——”
“Don’t call me your boy, Mr. Skeetles. I wouldn’t be your boy for a
million dollars.”
“Don’t grow abusive, Westmore. I took the deer because I found it on my
property. If I had wished to be mean I could have kept all of your
stores and traps also.”
“Not without a hot fight,” came from Joe.
“Then you—er—won’t sell me anything?” said Hiram Skeetles,
disappointedly.
“Wait, I’ve got a scheme,” whispered Fred to his two chums.
“What is it?” both questioned, in return.
He told them, and both grinned and then laughed outright.
“Just the thing!” cried Harry. “That will make him either eat humble pie
or starve.”
“What are you going to do?” questioned Joel Runnell.
“I’ll show you,” answered Fred, and advanced a little closer to the
lodge window.
“Well, what do you say?” demanded Hiram Skeetles.
“We’ll let you have some stores on one condition, Mr. Skeetles.”
“And what is that?”
“That you will start for home as soon as it is safe to do so, and will
leave us in undisputed possession of this lodge until our hunting tour
comes to an end.”