HAL'S GUN MAKES THE REST CURIOUS
"OH, my, but that smells good!"
The words came in a sort of ecstasy from the lips of Sergeant Noll
Terry, as, gun in hand, he tramped into camp with Corporal Hyman and
three others.
"Bear meat," said Slosson briefly. "Sergeant Overton and Lieutenant
Prescott brought it in just before noon with their compliments."
"Where are they now?"
"Somewhere out in the world," replied Private Kelly, nodding at the
mountain tops beyond. "They went out to see how much more they could
get."
Slosson had mentioned the sergeant before the lieutenant, but that was
not an unpardonable breach of etiquette, out here in the wilds.
More especially was it proper because Sergeant Hal, and not the
handsome, fine, young West Pointer, commanded this camp and detachment.
"Where are your mates, Sarge?" inquired Slosson.
"Oh, I left my crowd," smiled Noll. "They won't be in for an hour yet,
in all probability."
"Get anything, any of you?" queried Kelly.
"Not a thing, up to the time I quit," sighed Noll.
"Humph! We've all got to get a brace on us," muttered Slosson. "This is
our third day in camp, and what have we killed so far? Just enough meat
to satisfy the appetites we've developed up here in the hills!"
Sergeant Hal Overton's hunting detachment of the Thirty-fourth was now
encamped up in the highest points, almost, of all the Colorado Rockies.
Entraining, the party had gone some sixty miles over the rails. At the
station where the men detrained two heavy Army wagons had been awaiting
them, these wagons having been sent on two days ahead.
On the first day after leaving the railway the hunting detachment had
marched some eighteen miles; on the second day fifteen miles had been
covered, and now camp was pitched more than ninety miles from Fort
Clowdry.
The little village of wall tents stood some fifty feet away from where
Privates Slosson and Kelly were now busy getting the evening meal.
There was still about an hour of daylight left. It was not expected that
many of the hunters would be in much before the sun went down behind the
western tops.
"It's chilly to-night," announced Sergeant Terry, standing back and
watching the two soldiers at work.
"It's hot," grumbled Slosson, piling on more wood and stirring one of
the open cook fires.
"All a matter of where you happen to be standing," laughed Noll, diving
into the tent that he and Hal occupied. When Sergeant Terry came out
again he had on his olive tan overcoat.
Three days of incessant hunting had been indulged in. "Enjoyed" would
have been the word, only that so far the men of the detachment had not
struck very heavy luck with the game.
It was not Hal's fault. He, confessedly, was not an experienced hunter
in the Rockies. Corporal Hyman was an old hand at the hunt, and there
were other soldiers in the detachment who could find the wild game when
there was any to be found. Up to date, however, the game had been
scarce. A few mountain antelope and some smaller animals--but these the
hungry hunters had eaten as fast as they bagged.
The party consisted of Sergeants Overton and Terry, Corporals Hyman and
Cotter, twelve privates and Lieutenant Prescott.
Mr. Prescott was not a detailed member of the detachment. He had secured
leave from the post and had asked to be accepted as a guest. For this
reason the young West Pointer did not attempt to command in camp. Each
morning the officer accompanied which ever party of hunters he chose.
Every day two of the soldiers were left behind for the double duty of
watching the camp and of cooking the morning and evening meals. For the
noon meal, or in place thereof, the hunters carried such dry food as
they could stow away in their pockets.
"How big was the bear before you cut him up?" asked Noll, standing about
and watching the cooks.
"About a hundred and thirty pounds, I guess," replied Slosson.
"How far away from here did they shoot him?"
"Over a mile."
"Hm! Hal must have had a long, heavy pack."
"The lieutenant was carrying the carcass when they reached camp,"
retorted Private Kelly. "The lieutenant did his full share in packing
the meat in. That lieutenant ain't a dude."
"I know he isn't," Noll nodded quietly. "Still I didn't suppose Hal
would feel like letting an officer make a pack animal of himself."
"Your bunkie ain't no dude, either, Sarge," continued Kelly. "Him and
the lieutenant are two men of pretty near the same color."
"White isn't a color, anyway," laughed Noll.
"Maybe it isn't," assented Private Kelly.
Noll turned to look at the descending sun.
"My, I don't believe I've ever been as hungry as I am now," complained
Noll.
"Nothing doing, Sarge, until the rest of the crowd comes in," grinned
Slosson.
"Oh, that's easy enough for you fellows to say," grunted Noll. "You two
have been in camp all day, and you had a big, filling, hot meal at noon.
All I had at noon was a hard tack and a half."
"You could have carried more," insisted Slosson.
"I had more, but I didn't find water anywhere and hard tack is
abominably dry stuff to get down without help."
"Go over to the bucket and help yourself to water now, Sarge," suggested
Private Kelly teasingly.
"I think I will," agreed Noll, turning.
"Take a lot of it," urged Slosson. "Water, when you get enough of it, is
mighty filling."
"I'll brain you, if you go on making fun of a hungry man," warned
Sergeant Noll Terry, as he reached for the dipper hanging on a nail
driven into a tree trunk.
"That would look like losing your temper," retorted Kelly. "Now, what
are you mad with us for, Sarge? Haven't we been in camp all day, working
like Chinamen just so you fellows can have something to eat when you get
back from the day's stroll?"
"Well, I'm back," argued Noll.
"And you'll eat, Sarge, when the rest eat."
"What's in that oven?" queried Noll, pausing before an Army cookstove.
"Mince pie," remarked Kelly quietly.
"Oh, you fiend!" growled Sergeant Noll. "To torment a hungry man with
lies like that!"
"Lies, eh?" roared the soldier. "A Kelly to stand by and have a sergeant
boy tell him his mother raised a family of liars. Ye sassenach, take one
peep--and then may yer stomach cave in before the meal's laid!"
Kelly cautiously opened the oven door for a brief moment, affording Noll
an instant's glimpse of three browning pies.
"And there's six more of them hid here," added Kelly tantalizingly.
"And you have the cruel nerve to tell that to a man dying of
starvation?" demanded Sergeant Noll with heat. "Kelly, it takes me four
seconds to get my overcoat off, and only two seconds to get off the
blouse underneath!"
"At that rate, how long would it take you to undress altogether?"
demanded Kelly indifferently. "For the last five minutes I've had my
eyes on ye. I've been thinking how fine ye'd look in grave clothes."
"I don't have to take off many clothes, Kelly, to be down to fighting
trim enough to thrash you!"
"I wouldn't take advantage of ye," protested Kelly generously. "Sure it
would be no victory for a Kelly to whip a dying man."
"What's the fight about, men?" inquired a jolly voice.
Lieutenant Prescott had entered camp unnoticed. Instantly the soldiers
straightened up, raising their hands to their caps in salute. Mr.
Prescott returned their salutes. On first meeting the officer in the
morning the men saluted him, then again when he returned from the day's
hunt. For the rest of the time, at Lieutenant Prescott's own request,
they treated him like one of themselves.
"This sassenach is threatening to murder me, Lieutenant," complained
Kelly, "just because I showed him a pie and wouldn't let him eat it on
the spot."
"That would be enough to make me commit murder, too, if I weren't a
guest here," replied the lieutenant gravely, as he reached down the
dipper and helped himself to a drink from the water bucket. "How many
pies have you there?"
"Nine, sir, when the three in the oven come out."
"What kind?"
"Mince."
"Um-um-um!" quoth the officer.
"The sun's going so low now, Kelly, that I'm minded to let you live
another day," broke in Sergeant Noll.
"Aw, that's just because there's company present," growled Kelly, with a
side glance at the lieutenant.
"Supper ready?" hailed a distant voice.
"Will be, when you come in and fetch the wood to cook with," Slosson
hailed back through his hands.
A growl of desperation came from the party headed by Corporal Hyman.
Then in they tramped, but they carried only their rifles.
"What have ye been doing the long day?" demanded Kelly, with a keen look
at the party.
"Getting up an appetite for supper," retorted Corporal Hyman.
"But the game?"
"'Twas so heavy we gave up carrying it," grinned Corporal Hyman.
"The boys back in barracks have had their mouths watering for game for
days," grunted Slosson. "How'll we ever break the news to 'em?"
The soldiers shook their heads blankly.
"Want a suggestion as to the gentlest way of breaking the news back
home, Slosson?" inquired Lieutenant Prescott.
"We'd surely be grateful for it, sir," answered Slosson.
"Then we'll coax Sergeant Overton to wire back requesting full rations
for seventeen days for seventeen men."
"It'd be a bad trick, sir."
"How so?"
"The post commissary sergeant would be that mad he'd poison the grub,
sir, before shipping it."
"I believe he would," agreed Mr. Prescott thoughtfully. "For the men
back in barracks are looking for at least four tons of game food."
Bang! Bang!
"Hello! What's that?" cried Noll, starting up and listening.
"Queer question for a soldier to be askin'," mocked Private Kelly.
Bang-bang-bang!
"Wirra, but that feller can't stop to take breath between his shooting,"
remarked Private Kelly.
"Those shots," declared Lieutenant Prescott, "sound out in the
direction where I left Sergeant Overton."
"He's struck something," declared Noll gleefully.
"Some of us had better go out there," hinted Lieutenant Prescott, rising
from the campstool that he had brought out from his tent. "Either the
sergeant is in trouble, or else he's bagging a wagonload of game."
"Bang-bang!" sounded the distant rifle.
"He's moving, anyway, whoever he is," declared Sergeant Noll.
"Hello, there!"
"'Lo yerselves!" yelled back Kelly.
Another group of men came, and right after them the remainder of the
hunters save one.
Bang-bang!
"Now we know it's Sergeant Overton out there," announced Lieutenant
Prescott. Then he turned to Noll.
"Sergeant Terry, you're in charge. What are you going to do about it?"