Bart Keene's Hunting Days Part 17

"A stump," replied Ned promptly.

"Do stumps move?" inquired Bart.

"Of course not."

"Well that one did, so it isn't a stump. I think it's a bear."

Bart's opinion was unexpectedly confirmed the next moment, for the animal turned and uttered a loud "woof!" as it sniffed at the snow at the foot of the bush, evidently in search of something to eat.

Bart dropped to one knee, and took quick aim. It was his first shot since arriving at camp, and it was one worthy of much care, for bears were none too common to risk missing one.

The rifle cracked, but there was no cloud of smoke, for Bart was using his new smokeless cartridges. The lad pumped another bullet into the barrel, and fired again, for the bear had not moved after the first report.

Then, as the echoes of the rifle died away, the two lads saw the animal quickly rear itself upon its hind legs, and swing around in their direction.

CHAPTER XV

FENN FALLS IN

"Shoot again, Bart!" cried Ned. "You missed him!"

Bart had pumped another cartridge into place, but before he could pull the trigger the bear staggered a few paces toward him, and then fell in a convulsive heap. There was no need to fire again.

"He's dead!" cried Bart, exultantly, as he leaped forward. "My first bear, though it did take two shots to settle him." But as he saw a few minutes later, when he examined his prize, the first bullet would have done the work, had he waited long enough, for it was in a vital spot.

"Now to get him to camp," proposed Ned, when he and his chum had sufficiently admired the dead bear. "We'll have enough fresh meat for a week."

"Yes," a.s.sented Bart. "Let's see how we're going to get him back." He raised the fore end of the bear, by his paws, and grunted.

"What's the matter--heavy?" asked Ned.

"Try it and see," advised Bart. Ned did so, and grunted in his turn.

The truth of the matter was that the bear, though not of full size, was fat and plump, and of greater weight than the boys expected. Then, too, the weight was "dead," which made it all the more awkward to carry. Bart and Ned tried again, by turns, and both together, but the bear was too much for them.

"We'll have to get Fenn and Frank to help us," said Bart and he fired his rifle three times, in quick succession, and then, after a pause, twice, more slowly--the prearranged call for a.s.sistance. Fenn and Frank came running up a little later, fearing that some accident had happened, and they were much relieved when they found that their help was wanted in transporting the bear.

At Fenn's suggestion a long pole was cut, the bear's paws were tied together and the pole thrust through them, and then, with two lads on either end of the shaft, and Bruin swinging between, the journey back to camp was safely made.

Bart insisted on skinning his prize, saying he was going to make a rug of the hide, and the best portions of the meat were cut off for future use. As it was desired to allow the flesh to cool a bit before using it, the campers prepared a meal of the food they had in stock, reserving the bear steaks for supper.

The rest of the day was spent around camp, several improvements being made, with a view of rendering life more comfortable during their stay.

The bear steak, broiled with pieces of bacon stuck on it, was voted most delicious, and Fenn ate so much that he said it made him sleepy.

It grew much colder in the night, and before morning there was a demand for more blankets on the part of Frank and Ned. As there were no more, Bart volunteered to get up and replenish the fire in the stove, for it had died down.

As he was putting on more wood he suddenly paused, and seemed to be listening. Then he quietly went to the tent flap and peered out into the darkness, illuminated by a lantern hanging from the ridge pole.

"What's the matter?" asked Ned. "Did you see another bear, Bart?"

"I thought I heard some one walking around," was the answer. "It's snowing again. I don't see any one."

He went back to bed, every one sleeping more in comfort now that the tent was warmer. In the morning, Bart was the first one up, and he opened the tent flap. As he looked out, noting that the sun was s.h.i.+ning, though the weather was cold, the lad uttered a cry of astonishment.

"What's the matter?" asked Fenn, pausing in his dressing operations.

"Some one _was_ sneaking around last night!" declared Bart. "See the footprints!"

The campers rushed from the tent in various stages of negligee, and stared at a track of human footprints, clearly visible in the new-fallen snow.

"Whoever it was he came close to our tent, and was evidently going to look in, when I must have frightened him off by getting up to put wood on the fire," said Bart.

"Who was it?" asked Ned.

"I'm sure I don't know," responded Bart, "only it was some one who evidently wanted to get away un.o.bserved. Look, you can trace where he came out of the woods, approached our tent very cautiously, and then, when I frightened him, he took it on the run." This was easy to confirm by the s.p.a.ces between the footprints, for when the midnight visitor had approached slowly and stealthily the marks were comparatively close together, but where he had run they were far apart.

"Let's get dressed, and have a look around," said Fenn. But though they searched for some time they could not find the intruder, even if his footsteps were plainly visible, leading off into the forest.

"We'll get breakfast and trace him up," suggested Frank. "Might as well do that as anything else."

"Let's look and see if he's taken anything," suggested Fenn.

"No need to do that, Stumpy," was Bart's opinion. "You can tell by his tracks that he wasn't near enough to our camp to have stolen anything.

Even the bear meat is safe," and he looked to where it was suspended on a tree limb, by means of a long rope, a precaution taken to keep it out of the way of prowling animals.

With their guns in readiness for any game, the four chums set out after breakfast on the trail of the unknown, midnight visitor. The marks were easy to follow, for very little snow had fallen after Bart had replenished the wood in the stove.

"Say, do you notice which way he's heading?" asked Fenn, excitedly, when they had gone on about a mile.

"Not particularly," said Frank. "Why?"

"He's gone to the mud volcano--that's where he's gone, fellows!"

declared the stout youth. "I wonder what he wants there? Maybe he's after mud turtles. Maybe he's the same man who wrote to me."

"He might be almost anybody, Stumpy," was Ned's opinion. "We can't tell until we see him. Get a move on."

The footsteps were becoming fainter now, for the wind had drifted the snow across them in a number of places, but they were sufficiently visible to indicate that the man had kept on in the direction of the boiling spring.

Just before the boys reached that phenomenon, the marks vanished altogether, coming to an abrupt stop in the snow, but it was evident that this was due to the wind covering the tracks with white crystals from the drifts, and not because the man had mysteriously vanished.

"Well, we may as well go on to the spring," spoke Fenn. "Maybe we'll find him there."

But the vicinity of the mud volcano was deserted, though numerous mud turtles were crawling about over the warm ground, which was devoid of snow.

"I'm going closer and have a look," decided Fenn, as he started away from his chums.