THE GUN-SHOT.
Little was said by the occupants of the canoe, while the Woodranger
continued to use the paddle with his swift, silent strokes, until a
cove on the northeast shore of Massabesic loomed plainly into view. The
pines in that quarter grew quite to the water’s edge, their long arms
at places falling over into the pond.
“Take the paddle awhile, Rob,” said the forester, “and I will drop
a line for our supper, seeing we have taken no game this afternoon.
To-morrow we surely shall not have to depend on sich supplies. Not
that I object to a good meal o’ Massabesic perch or pike. At the mouth
of some of its streams I have pulled in as fine a salmon trout as
you’d care for. Ha! there’s enough for any two o’ you hungry boys,” he
declared, as he hauled in a fine specimen of the finny tribe. “Two more
sich as he, and we’ll run in ashore.”
Five minutes later Rob was sending the canoe into a little bay, hidden
from view until the beholder was close upon it by a dense border of
bushes encircling the horseshoe-shaped shore. To the surprise of the
boys, they saw a well-worn path leading back into the growth from the
apex of the circular retreat.
“Is it possible you have been here so many times, Woodranger, as to
have made a beaten path into the woods?”
“Possible, my lad, but not probable. ’Tis another trail o’ the reds.
It leads back to another camping-place o’ the dusky tribe. I generally
seek this place, as just above here it is extremely dry and sheltered
for a camping spot. It is elevated enough to command a goodish survey
o’ the water.”
By this time the canoe had touched on the sandy beach. The boys jumped
out, and began at once to remove their outfits. When the forester had
concealed his frail bark to his satisfaction under some overhanging
bushes, he led the way back into the depths of the forest.
After following the path for a short distance, the little party found
itself under the low-spreading arms of a giant pine, which stood on the
backbone of a slight ridge of land. A background of high rocks on the
north and west formed a protection from the cold winds, while the south
was open to receive the sun, making an ideal camping-place.
“There is a cave just back here called the Devil’s Den,” said Rob, who
alone of the boys had been there before. “We’ll visit it by and by. But
first I imagine Woodranger will want us to bring together some wood for
a fire.”
“Sartin, lad, sartin; and while you be about that I’ll set things in
order here. If you go near the cave I would not advise you to go in, as
it is damp and cold within at this season.”
The four boys at once went in quest of the wood, and they were so
successful that in a few minutes they had brought a good-sized pile of
dried branches and fallen saplings, so that the Woodranger was enabled
soon to have a cheerful fire blazing. Seeing that the latter was busy
about the forthcoming meal, and that they were not needed, the boys
started up the hillside under the lead of Rob, to visit the cave with
the ominous name of Devil’s Den.
They soon found themselves at the foot of an immense cliff, which was
rent and seamed in several places. The largest of these fissures was
nearly in the middle of the rocky wall, and the young explorers found
that it led an unknown depth into the earth. Billy and Johnny started
to penetrate its recess, but it was so dark and damp that, after going
a short distance, they were glad to turn back.
“If I had a torch,” said the resolute Johnny, “I’d go to the end.”
“You’d have a smart tramp to get back for supper, if you went to the
end,” said Rob. “There is an account which says a dog once ran in here
after a fox, and though the dog was never known to come out, he was
heard barking underground two miles away from here!”
“Fudge, Rob! you know that is a story,” declared Billy.
“Ask Woodranger if it isn’t so――I mean the story.”
“Look here, boys!” called out Johnny, who had left the others to
wander into the forest; “here are what look like two graves under this
chestnut. Can anybody have been buried here?”
“Injuns!” declared Billy.
At that moment the report of a gun rang out clearly in the distance,
quickly succeeded by a human cry.
“Who can that be?” asked Johnny.
“Zack Bitlock, I think,” replied Norman. “I wonder what trouble he has
got into now.”
Putting all thoughts of the grave mounds from their minds, the four
boys returned to the Woodranger to consult with him in regard to this
new alarm. The forester was busily engaged in tending the fish, which
he had impaled upon spits improvised from hazel sticks, and placed over
the fire. Not until he had seen the delicious morsels browned to a
nicety, and removed them from the fire, did he offer to reply to the
anxious inquiries of his young companions.
“Yes, I heerd the gun-shot, and likewise I heerd a goodish part o’ the
holler, as if the feller was a loon. Likewise I hear him coming through
the breshwood near at hand.”
As the Woodranger finished speaking, they, too, heard a heavy,
lumbering step in the woods just below them, and as they listened to
the sounds the ungainly figure of Zack Bitlock burst into sight. He had
evidently seen the fire some time before, for he was headed directly
toward it. He had a wild, scared look on his homely face, which made
him look more unprepossessing than ever.
“Lord Harry!” he gasped, as he staggered into the little arena holding
our group of hunters, “I never was so scared in my born life. That air
weepon o’ mine has gone stark, starin’ mad! A leetle spell ago I axed
it to speak its piece, an’ it never yipped. Jes’ now, as I was walkin’
erlong, it begun to hiss and sputter, and then flew off like a wildcat!
I hove it aside an’ run fer life.”
Bitlock was greatly excited, and he could not stand still while he told
his story. Instead of replying to him, the Woodranger said:
“Draw round, lads, and help yourselves to the fish. Br’iled fish to be
good must be eaten warm from the coals. Then, too, as soon as you have
satisfied your appetites, you had better lop down some of them boughs,
if you want any protection for the night. As for myself, I’m fain to
allow I do not care for sich contraptions. But seeing you are less used
to outdoor life, and the nights be a bit coolish at this season, I
want to know that you are comfortable. Come up, Zack, and eat a bit o’
br’iled fish. It will warm you ’mazingly.”
“Gol dang it, Ranger! I’m going home. That is, if I can get Rob to take
me over th’ pond.”
“’Twon’t do, Zack. Ketch your death o’ cold in that soaked skin. Stop
till morning, sure. Eat and get dry now.”
Goodman Bitlock was glad enough to obey, and a minute later he was
eating voraciously, and after supper he hovered over the fire, so as to
dry his wet clothes. Under the direction of the forester the boys soon
constructed a comfortable bough house. By the time this was finished it
was quite dark, and the stars were beginning to peep out in the sky.