The Boy Scouts in A Trapper's Camp Part 9

It was. It was the hour just before the break of day when, perhaps because the blood has not yet begun to circulate freely, the cold seems to have reached its maximum of strength. Beyond the narrow radius of the glow from the fire it seemed to fairly bite to the bone.

"Get busy with the axe and you'll forget it," advised Pat, adding, "It is the courtesy of the woods to leave a little wood ready for the next fellow who may hit camp late, as we did yesterday. You'll have just about time enough to get warmed up before these flapjacks are ready."

"Good idea!" cried Walter, seizing an axe. "Come on, you fellows!

Sparrer can lug it in as we split it."

At the end of ten minutes Pat called them to eat, and by that time they had forgotten the cold, for they were in a warm glow from exercise.

"I'll bet it was cold in the night," said Upton as they sat down to bacon, flapjacks and hot chocolate.

"Right you are, my boy," replied Pat. "When I got up the second time it was cold enough to freeze the tail off a bra.s.s monkey."

"When you got up the second time! What in the d.i.c.kens were you up for?"

exclaimed Hal.

"To kape yez from freezing to death," grinned Pat. "Did yez think the fire would feed itself?"

"I didn't think anything about it," confessed Hal. "Gee, it must have been cold when you crawled out to start things this morning! Makes me shiver to think of it. I guess the rest of us are the lucky little boys to have everything started for us and a ripping good fire going before we turned out. Do you always get up before daylight in the woods, Pat?"

"Sure," replied Pat. "It's nothing when you're used to it. Most trappers are on the trail by break of day. The days are all too short in winter, anyway, especially when you've got a long trap line to work over. I expect Alec is on the line now. He'll be trying to get through early to-day so as to have things ready for us when we reach the cabin. It's going to be a stiff pull to-day for you fellows, and the sooner we get started the better."

As soon as breakfast was finished the toboggan was packed, the brush piled once more in front of the lean-to and the fire put out by the simple process of throwing snow on it. The cold light of the stars had given way to the colder gray of the dawn as they once more slipped on the shoes and hit the trail around Little Goose Pond. It was then that the three novices realized that they were indeed tenderfeet. They had not gone half a mile before it seemed as if every muscle from their thighs down was making individual and vigorous protest. But they were game, and if Pat guessed their feelings it was not from any word which they let drop.

Gradually the stiffness wore off, and at the end of a couple of hours they were traveling with some degree of comfort. Pat purposely set an easy pace for the first few miles and he kept a watchful eye on Sparrer, for whom he felt personally responsible. As a matter of fact the youngster was standing it even better than the other two. For one thing, he was considerably lighter, and his shoes bore him up better than was the case with his companions. In places where the snow was packed he did not sink in at all, whereas the others broke through slightly, and on soft snow he did not begin to sink as far as they did. Of course this meant far less strain on his muscles, and greater ease in walking.

As they rounded the end of the pond Pat pointed out the place where he had been mistaken for a deer by two city boys and got a bullet through his hat. A little beyond this point they saw the first sign of life since they had entered the woods, the tracks of a hare or snow-shoe rabbit, and with them other tracks which at first glance all but Pat mistook for those of another rabbit.

"You fellows wait here a minute," said he and followed the trail into a thicket of young hemlocks. A few minutes later he called to them to join him. They found him at the farther side of the thicket. At his feet the snow had been considerably disturbed, and there were some blood-stains and torn sc.r.a.ps of white fur. Beyond a single trail led to the foot of a tree and there ended.

"Marten," explained Pat briefly in response to the looks of inquiry.

"He ran Mr. Longlegs down here, ate his dinner and took to the trees.

I've had a hunch that there were marten in this neck of woods, but haven't had a chance to trap them yet."

Later they put up a flock of spruce grouse, but it was out of season and the boys had too much respect for the spirit as well as the letter of the law to be even tempted to shoot. After the noon lunch Pat quickened the pace somewhat. The temperature had moderated rapidly and the sky was overcast. "It's a weather breeder, and we're in for more snow," said Pat as he scanned the sky with some appearance of anxiety. "I don't like the looks of it. We want to reach the cabin before the storm breaks, and we've got to hit it up faster in order to do it. How are your legs?"

"Still doing business," replied Hal. "The stiffness is out, but I guess I won't object to reaching that little old cabin. How about you, Walt?"

"Same here," replied Upton. "I'm game for the rest of the distance, but the cabin will look good to me, all right, all right. Hope Alec will have dinner ready. I've no sooner eaten than I'm hungry again."

"My tummy, oh, my tummy!"

began Hal, but Pat cut him short with the order to fall in, and started off at a pace which left Hal no breath to waste on doggerel. They now buckled down to the trail in earnest. Pat's fears proved well grounded, for they were still some three miles from the cabin when the first needle-like particles began to hiss through trees and sting their faces.

By the time they entered the pa.s.s to Smugglers' Hollow the tracks of Big Jim had been entirely obliterated and Pat was holding the trail by the blazed trees, a feat by no means easy because of the difficulty of looking ahead in the face of the storm.

In the narrow pa.s.s they stopped for a few minutes for a breathing spell.

There the force of the storm was broken, but when they emerged into the Hollow they found that they must force their way into the very teeth of it. The wind had risen, and it drove the fine icy particles with a force that almost cut the exposed skin. The blinding cloud swirled about them and completely hid their surroundings. Pat, in the lead, partly broke the force of the storm for those behind. It seemed to them as if he must be going by blind instinct, but if he was he had a dogged confidence that was at least rea.s.suring. At last when it seemed to the three city lads that they simply could not push on another foot Pat stopped and raised a warning hand. "Listen!" said he.

With straining ears they listened, but for a couple of minutes heard nothing. Then seemingly out of the heart of the storm there came a faint "h.e.l.lo-o!"

"Alec," said Pat briefly. "He's getting worried."

Together they gave an answering shout, but the wind seemed to s.n.a.t.c.h the sound from their lips and whirl it behind them. "No use," said Pat.

"Wind's the wrong way, and we better save our breath. We'll need it. It isn't far now, and he'll keep yelling to guide us."

Once more they buckled down to the task in hand. The few minutes'

respite had eased the weary muscles, and the sound of Alec's voice was wonderfully stimulating. Fifteen minutes later, panting and gasping, powdered with snow from head to feet, they stumbled up to the cabin just as Alec Smith threw open the door to renew his signals. For a second he stared, then a look of intense relief swept across his rugged features.

[Ill.u.s.tration: ONCE MORE THEY BUCKLED DOWN TO THE TASK]

"Glory be!" he cried, springing forward and unceremoniously shoving the exhausted boys into the cabin. "I was feared that ye would be having to spend the night in a snowdrift. Did ye no hear me shouting?"

Pat nodded as he sank on to a stool, panting for breath. "We heard you all right, Alec, but we couldn't make you hear us because the wind was the wrong way. Besides, we didn't have any breath to spare."

But Alec wasn't listening. He was delightedly shaking hands with Walter and Hal and helping them to strip off their mackinaws, not forgetting Sparrer, whose presence was a surprise, Pat having sent no warning of this addition to the party.

"My, but ye be a sight for sore eyes!" he declared as he bustled about preparing hot chocolate and in other ways striving to make his guests comfortable. "Saving Big Jim, who spent one night here, I haven't laid eyes on a living soul since Pat left, and that was three weeks gone, though I mistrust that there be others no so very far away."

Pat looked up quickly. "What's that?" he demanded sharply.

Alec's face clouded. "I've seen signs which I dinna like. I'll be telling ye more aboot it after dinner," said he briefly.

"And the catch since I've been away?" asked Pat.

"Is no what it should be. There's na doot aboot that; it's no what it should be." The face of the young Scotchman darkened still more. Pat flashed him a look of understanding. "We'll talk that over by and by,"

said he. "Just now we're half famished. My, but that stew smells good.

I'll unpack while you are getting the stuff ready. With that toboggan in here there isn't room to turn around."

The toboggan had been dragged in when they first arrived and it occupied most of the available room. Walter helped him unload, piling the stuff on one of the bunks for the time being. Presently Alec called for their eating outfit, confessing that his establishment didn't possess dishes enough for so many. At length he announced dinner ready and bade the four draw up to the little rough deal table spread with a piece of white oilcloth. For seats there were two five-foot benches made by splitting a log, smoothing the flat sides and inserting four stout birch legs in the convex side of each. These were drawn up on either side of the table, and at one end Alec drew up an empty box for his seat.

Alec had, as Walter expressed it, laid himself out on that dinner. There was venison stew with dumplings, and a rich thick gravy. There were baking-powder biscuits as light as feathers. There were baked potatoes and canned string beans. And last but not least there was a great brown loaf of hot gingerbread.

"How's your tummy now?" asked Walter as Hal at last was forced to refuse a third helping of stew.

"It's too small," Hal complained. "I want more. I want a lot more, and I can't eat another mouthful."

Pat insisted on helping Alec do up the dishes and flatly refused to allow any one else take a hand, so the others spent the time in stowing away their duffle and inspecting the interior of the cabin. To Sparrer it was, of course, all new and strange. As for that, it was hardly less so to Harrison and Upton. When they had last seen it it had been windowless, doorless and the roof at the rear had been but temporarily patched. Now there was a stout door. Four small windows had been fitted into the openings left for this purpose. The temporary repairs which Pat had made on the roof at the rear end had been replaced with a permanent roof. In fact, the whole roof had been put in first cla.s.s shape. The side walls had been repacked with moss between the logs, the four side bunks repaired and a new one built at the back, and all filled with freshly cut balsam. The floor had been repaired. So also had the fireplace and chimney. A small cupboard and shelves had been added. On the floor were two big deerskins.

But the thing which caught and held the attention of the boys most was a big bearskin which had been thrown on one of the upper bunks.

"When and where did you get him?" asked Upton eagerly.

"Shot him within less than half a mile of the cabin just before real cold weather set in," replied Alec. "He was just gettin' ready to den up for the winter. I misdoot he was the same one that give that young feller you called Sister the scare the day he was alone here last fall.

Tracked him in a light snow and was lucky enough to see him first.

Regular old he feller, and he sure took some killing. First shot got him right back of the shoulder and made him squall a plenty, but it didna stop him. Knew by that that I had hit him and hit him hard, but the way he beat it you never'd have guessed he was hurt at all. When I see the blood on the trail I kenned he was hard hit and would no travel far if left alone, so I sat down and smoked a pipe. Then I took up the trail and sure enough he had laid down behind a windfall about a quarter of a mile from where I first see him. The old fox heard me coming and sneaked away again, but he was getting weak and didna go far before he laid down again. This time I got another shot and broke his backbone, but at that it took two more shots to finish him. You ain't never killed a bar till he's dead. What do you think that feller Ely will say when he gits that skin?"

"Spud? Is that for Spud? Do you mean to say that you are going to send that skin to Spud Ely?" cried Walter.

Alec nodded. "I promised him a barskin when he left, and I reckon that that's hisn. Hope he'll like it."