CHASED BY WOLVES.
After some discussion it was decided to follow the course of the creek
upon which they had pitched their camp.
This would aid them in several ways. It would prevent them from going
astray and getting lost, and traveling was easier there than in among
the trees and brush. Moreover, Jack was of the opinion that they would
find more game along the creek side than elsewhere.
Every one was in excellent spirits, and had it not been for a warning
from Harry, Boxy and Pickles would have started to sing and whistle.
“We will never get anything unless you remain quiet,” he said. “It is
hard enough to stalk anything without a dog.”
“Oh, I ought to have brought Leo,” burst out Boxy. “But Minnie wouldn’t
hear of it. She said it was bad enough for me to go, without taking
him.”
“Leo isn’t a hunting dog, is he?” questioned Andy.
“A kind of one. He hasn’t been trained very well.”
“Then he would have been worse than none,” put in Jack. “A dog is no
good unless he is thoroughly broken.”
“My ole man’s dun got de dorg,” put in Pickles. “But he would radder
gib me his suit of clo’s dan let me take Woppy away. He t’inks moah ob
dat dorg dan he does ob me, a heap sight.”
“We’ll get along all right,” replied Jack. “But we must--hullo! here
are tracks in the snow!”
“Hist! a rabbit, suah you boarn!” whispered Pickles.
Up came his gun. A tremendous report followed, and the colored youth
went over backward in the snow. The heavy charge in the firearm
completely demolished the rabbit, which had been close at hand.
“Did--did--I hit him?” gasped Pickles, as he scrambled to his feet with
a wild stare in his eyes.
“Oh, no, you didn’t hit him, you simply scattered him,” returned Boxy,
doubled up over the sight Pickles had presented as he went over. “You
knocked him into six million pieces.”
“Dat so?” Pickles gazed ruefully at the tufts of fur lying about. “By
golly! dat was a most terribul shot, wasn’t it?”
“I should say it was,” returned Jack. “What made you load up so
heavily?”
Pickles scratched his woolly head.
“I dun racken I loaded dat yere gun twice,” he said, slowly. “I loaded
her up yisterday, an’ dis moanin’ I did de same.”
A perfect howl of laughter went up, and it increased instead of
diminished when Pickles went around looking for enough of the rabbit to
take back to camp. He was unsuccessful.
“Well, you can be thankful that the gun didn’t burst and send you to
kingdom come,” commented Harry. “Next time be sure to fire off the gun
before you load again.”
“You kin bet I will,” returned Pickles, and he spoke the truth. All of
his charges after that were somewhat light.
A little distance farther on they came across several more rabbits.
Jack brought down one and his brother another. All the other boys fired
and missed.
“We’ll have rabbits if nothing else,” observed Jack. “But I am in hopes
we’ll strike bigger game.”
“A bear, for instance,” said Boxy.
“Well, no, not exactly. But a deer wouldn’t go bad.”
“There ought to be deer around here,” said Harry. “Barton Coils said we
would find some sure.”
“I suppose they are getting scarcer every year. Maybe we will have to
go away back in the mountains for them.”
On and on they trudged, without another sign of a rabbit. But presently
Harry drew attention to a squirrel hole, and a halt was made to see
what it might contain.
They all loaded up, and then Boxy threw a snowball into the hole.
Nothing followed, and then another snowball and a stick of wood were
launched at the hole.
Instantly a squirrel’s head appeared; his lordship looked out to see
what was the cause of the disturbance.
Jack took quick aim and fired. The head disappeared, but whether the
animal had been hit or not they could not tell.
“I’ll climb up and investigate,” said Boxy. “I have an idea there is
more than one squirrel in that tree.”
“Yes, it looks hollow,” returned Harry. “Let me give you a boost up.”
“Don’t you shoot me for a squirrel while I’m up there,” laughed Boxy,
and up he started.
“Humph! you don’t climb like a squirrel,” commented Andy, as Boxy
gripped and twisted to gain the lower branches of the tree.
It was a struggle to gain those lower limbs, but Boxy finally
accomplished it, and began to poke into the hole with a stick. Almost
instantly a couple of squirrels sprang out and darted past him, and out
to where the branches of another tree hung close.
One of the frisky animals made the leap in safety, and darted out of
sight before those below could take aim at him.
The second was not so fortunate. He hesitated for an instant, and that
proved fatal. Harry’s gun spoke, and down he dropped at the young
hunter’s feet.
The shot, scattering through the branches behind him, frightened Boxy,
who imagined that he was in danger of being hit, although such was not
the case, as Harry was careful of what he was doing. The boy up at
the squirrel hole shrunk backward, and then, to the amazement of his
companions, disappeared entirely!
“Hullo! what does that mean?” cried Jack.
“Where in de world is dat feller gwine?” questioned Pickles, with his
mouth wide open.
“Who?” asked Harry, who had been paying attention solely to the
squirrel.
“Boxy has gone into a hole in the tree,” explained Andy. “Hullo, Boxy,
crawl out of that!” he shouted.
There was no reply. The boys stared at the tree and each other in
wonder.
“Maybe he has gone clear to the bottom,” suggested Jack.
“I’ll climb up and see,” returned Harry. “Give me a leg up, quick! He
may be smothering!”
Jack assisted him, and Harry was soon up to where Boxy had been
standing. Sure enough, there was a large hole, and Boxy was wedged into
it at least seven or eight feet below the opening.
“Help me!” gasped the unfortunate boy, in a thick voice.
“Throw up a rope or a strap,” shouted Harry, to those below. “He is way
down, and can’t help himself.”
Several skate-straps, buckled together, were at once thrown up. Winding
one end around his hand, Harry lowered the other.
“Got it tight?” he asked.
“Yes,” returned Boxy. “But I’m afraid you can’t haul me up--I’m wedged
in that firm!”
“I’ll see.”
Bracing himself as best he could, Harry hauled away on the strap. The
leather cut his hand a good deal, but to this he paid small attention.
At first Boxy did not budge. Then, with a groan, he came up a few
inches. A tearing sound, as of clothing, followed, and finally he was
raised so that he could get his hands on the edge of the hole. Then he
helped himself; and soon both he and Harry were down among the others
again.
Boxy’s coat was torn in half-a-dozen places, but he gave scant
attention to that. He was very thankful that he had been pulled out of
the tree-trunk alive.
“Supposing I’d been alone when that happened?” he shuddered. “I was
worse off than Jack in that pit on the other side of the lake.”
“That shows the wisdom of keeping together,” said Jack. “After this we
will make it a point to go out together, or, at least; in pairs--never
alone.”
The journey up the creek was resumed, and they kept on until at least a
mile and a half had been covered.
“Now I move we go back,” said Jack. “It is getting late. To-morrow we
can start out early, for there will be nothing to do around the camp
after breakfast, which we ought to have by seven o’clock.”
The others were tired and readily agreed. They had not seen any deer,
but had found a run, and they were certain that, sooner or later, they
would strike one or more of the much-prized beasts.
About a quarter of the distance to camp was covered, when, without
warning, a doleful sound reached their ears, coming from directly in
front of them.
“What’s that?” asked Andy, as he came to a halt.
“Wolves!” cried Jack. “I did not think there were any in this section!”
“The heavy snow has driven them out to look for food,” put in Harry.
“We may have trouble with them.”
“We can shoot them,” said Boxy. “And they--here they come now!”
Boxy had hardly uttered the words when from a thicket rushed five lean
and savage-looking wolves, snapping and snarling as they came toward
the boys.
All fired their guns, and two of the wolves went down, mortally
wounded. The others kept on, yelping and barking with increased
savageness.
“Run for it!” yelled Jack. “They will tear us to pieces if they once
get at us!”
And run they did, trying to load their firearms as they went.
Soon the wolves were close at their heels!