_In the Hands of the Enemy_
Weary as they were with their over-energetic day's work, the boys went
to bed early that night--all of them but Tom. That tireless Nimrod had
found a bear's den the day before and was minded to go out and watch for
the bear that inhabited it. "Your bear is a night prowler," he said,
"and if I can catch this one going out of his den or into it to-night,
I'll bring home a supply of meat. We're a trifle short of that commodity
just now."
Several of the boys wanted to go with Tom, and the lieutenant, who had
dined with them that evening, wanted to send two soldiers as his
assistants.
"No," said Tom, "I don't want anybody with me. We'd inevitably talk, and
then we'd never see a bear. I'll go alone."
With that he took his rifle and went out into the darkness, while the
rest of the boys went to bed and to sleep.
As he neared the bear den which he had discovered during the day and
identified by tracks, Tom moved very cautiously, making no noise, and,
secreting himself between two rock masses, lay down to await
developments.
Hour after hour passed, and there were none. Still Tom maintained an
attitude of alert attention.
Presently a great light appeared over a spur of the mountain, in the
direction of Camp Venture.
"There's something the matter over there," said Tom to himself, "but
with all those soldiers there they don't need me half as much as they
need a bear."
Just at that moment--it was about three o'clock in the morning--Tom
heard a crackling of sticks near at hand, and a moment later a great
black bear came waddling and lumbering along on his way to the den.
With that instinct of humorous perception which was strong in Tom, he
could not help likening the belated beast to a convivial gentleman
returning from his club in the small hours.
Then it occurred to him that convivial gentlemen under such
circumstances are sometimes "held up" at their own door ways, a fact
which still further heightened the resemblance between the two cases. It
next occurred to Tom that should his shot prove ineffective or
imperfectly effective, the bear might get the better of him, as
convivial gentlemen sometimes do with footpads. For, from the point at
which Tom was lying, there was no avenue of escape except directly in
the path of the bear, and a wounded bear is about as ugly an enemy to
encounter as it is possible to find anywhere.
"Moral:" said Tom to himself, "Don't shoot till you've got a bead on a
vital point. Fortunately this rifle has an 'initial velocity' as they
call it, which will send a bullet through the thickest skull that any
animal in the world wears as a breastwork to his brains."
Of course Tom would have preferred to shoot at the animal's heart, but
there was no chance to do that, for at that moment the great beast
discovered his huntsman and presented his full front to him at a
distance of less than ten feet. Another second and the bear would make
mince meat of the boy. So Tom taking a hasty aim fired at the animal's
forehead, and the bullet did its work so well that the beast fell
instantly dead.
After waiting for a minute or so to see if any scratching capacity
remained in his game, Tom went to the bear and after inspecting it
muttered: "I've shot Ursa Major himself," for the bear was of unusual
bulk, greatly the largest Tom had ever seen. "I wonder what the stars
will look like now that the constellation of the Great Bear is done
for."
The beast was much too heavy for Tom to carry or even drag to the camp.
So he instantly set out in search of assistance. His plan was to go to
the camp and secure three or four soldiers to assist him in transporting
his game. But he had not gone far on his campward journey before
he was "held up" by three mountaineers. Fortunately one of the
party--apparently its leader--was his own particular mountaineer, the
one whom he had set free and who had so generously repaid his favor with
gifts of corn and rye meal.
"Now set down, little Tom," said the man; "we wants a little talk with
you."
"All right," said Tom, "I'm ready."
"Well you see, you done tole me an' I done tole the other folks as how
you boys had nothin' whatsomever to do with the revenue officers or the
soldiers."
"That's all right," said Tom. "We haven't had anything to do with them,
we haven't spied upon you fellows or molested you in any way."
"But there's a big gang o' soldiers an' revenue officers in your camp."
"Yes, I know that," said Tom. "But are we talking fair and square as we
did before?"
"Yes, fa'r an' squar'," answered the man.
"Very well then, I'll tell you about this matter. We boys don't like
your illegal occupation up here in the mountains, but it is none of our
business. We have never spied out your stills and certainly we have
given no information to the revenue officers."
"What did they come up here for then?" asked one of the mountaineer's
companions.
"They came up to capture us. They had seen the lights of Camp Venture
and had located us. So they thought they had a still sure, and they came
up here to capture it. The first thing they did was to surround us and
fire at us in the dark. I explained matters to them and they searched
our camp all over. Then they decided to camp there till they could get
some provisions from down below, and while they were waiting, they asked
me to tell them where the stills were so that they might raid them for
meal. I knew where some stills were of course, for I've seen a lot since
I came up here, but I refused to tell them."
"Is that honest Injun, Tom?"
"Yes," answered the boy. "I never tell lies. But you must understand me
clearly. I haven't the smallest respect for you moonshiners or for your
business. Under ordinary circumstances I should not hesitate to tell the
revenue officers where a still was if I happened to know. But I made a
bargain with you, Bill Jones. I told you truly that we had come up here
to cut railroad ties and not to interfere with you or your criminal
business. I told you that if you'd let us alone we'd let you alone. We
could have sent a message down the mountain by our chute any day which
would have brought the soldiers and the revenue people up at once but we
didn't. I had promised you and I have kept my promise."
"Yes," answered Bill Jones, "an' you let me off in a state prison case,
jest in time to save my little gal from starvin' to death! I'll never
forgit it, an' I tell you fellers you mustn't hurt little Tom. Ef you
do, I'll stand on his side an' they'll be some ugly work done before
you're through with it."
"Well," said one of the men, "he tells a mighty nice, slick story like,
an' maybe it's true. But they's jest one question I'd like to ask him
afore we close the conversation like."
"Ask me any question you please," said Tom, "and I'll answer it truly. I
have nothing to conceal, and I never tell lies."
"Well," said the man after discharging a quid of tobacco from further
service and biting off a new one to take its place, "what I want to know
is what you'se been doin', out here in the mounting all night like."
"That's easy," said Tom. "I've been killing a bear."
"Where?" asked the man.
"About a quarter of a mile back. You see we're getting short of meat
down there in camp, with all these soldiers quartered upon us."
"Then ef you done got a bear whar is it?" asked the man.
"It is back there, as I tell you, about a quarter of a mile."
"Why didn't you bring it with you?" asked the man.
"Simply because it is too heavy. It is the biggest bear I ever saw. I
was on my way to camp, when you stopped me, to get some fellows to come
out here and help me drag it."
"Will you show it to us?" asked the man, still incredulously. "Seein's
believin' you know."
"Certainly," said Tom. "The little old moon is rising now, and you can
get a good look at the bear that I've sat up all night to kill."
He led the way back and at sight of the bear even the incredulous one of
the party was satisfied.
"Now," spoke up Bill Jones, "we've got jest one thing to do. Ef this bar
is left here it'll be half et up by varmints afore men can be brought
from the camp to carry it in. Fellers we've got to carry it in fer
Little Tom--him what let me go jist in time to save my little gal from
starvin' when her mother was lyin dead in the cabin an' fer two days the
little gal hadn't so much as a bite to eat. We'll drag the bar to the
camp fer Little Tom!"
One of the men offered an objection: "We'll git arrested ef we do," he
said.
"For what?" asked Tom.
"Why fer moonshining of course."
"But you haven't been caught moonshining. Nobody in camp can accuse you
of that or any other crime. Anyhow if you fellows will help me to camp
with this bear I pledge you my honor that I'll stand by you and see to
it that you're not arrested."
"That's 'nuff sed," said Bill Jones. "Little Tom never goes back on his
word, an' he knows how to manage things. We'll take the bar to camp."
The men assented but with hesitation and obvious reluctance. Seeing
their hesitation Bill Jones spoke again:
"Now I tell you, you needn't worry the least little bit. I know whereof
I speak, as the Bible says, when I tell you that you kin bet all you've
got on Little Tom Ridsdale. When he says a thing he means it an' when he
means it he'll do it ef all the eggs in the basket gits broke."
"Thank you Bill," said Tom. "Anyhow I'll see that you fellows get safely
out of our camp or else I'll go with you with my rifle in my hand."
The men seemed satisfied. Seizing the bear they dragged it campwards as
the daylight began to grow strong. Before Camp Venture was reached the
sun was well above the horizon, and as they approached Tom gained some
notion of what had happened there and of what the blaze of the night
before had signified. But well outside the camp his mountaineers dropped
the bear and bade Tom good bye.
Not a vestige of the house in which the boys had lived all winter
remained. Only the smoke of a still smoldering fire marked the place
where it had been.