Jack Ranger's Gun Club: or, From Schoolroom to Camp and Trail

CHAPTER XXII
AN UNEXPECTED ENCOUNTER

Jack glanced at Nat. The lad was pale, and Jack himself began to feel the effect of the poisonous gas. But he made up his mind he would not give in.

“Brace up, Nat!” he cried. “We must get Budge out of here. Maybe he’s only fainted. Brace up! It will only take us a minute, and then we’ll get where there is better air.”

“I will,” said Nat faintly.

He stood up, and by a strong effort fought off the feeling of faintness. Then he and Jack reached down and took hold of Budge, lifting him by his head and feet. His gun was strapped over his shoulder.

“There’s what did the mischief,” said Jack, and he nodded toward a spring, about five feet in diameter, near which Budge had been sitting when he had been overcome.

The poor lad’s body was limp, and it was hard to carry him, but Nat and Jack strained and staggered along. As they went on, the effect of the deadly gas became less, and soon they could breathe better.

“Do you – do you think he’s dead?” faltered Nat.

“I hope not,” answered Jack, but his voice was serious. “It depends on how long he has breathed that gas. I heard Tanker Ike say he once saw a grizzly bear killed by it, so it must be pretty powerful.”

“Have we got to carry him back to camp?”

“No, we’ll take him out of the reach of the vapor, and then one of us can run back and get the medicine chest. I’ll try some strong ammonia on him. That may revive him – if he isn’t dead.”

A little later they staggered with the limp body of Budge out on a clear place, where the fumes of the gas could not be noticed.

“I’ll wait here with him until you run to camp,” said Jack, and when Nat, who had recovered from his faintness, had started off, Jack chafed Budge’s hands, and running to the river filled his cap with cold water, which he dashed into the face of the unconscious lad.

This treatment was effective in a measure, for Budge opened his eyes. Then he exclaimed:

“Don’t – don’t drown me!”

“Budge! Budge!” cried Jack. “Do you feel better?”

But the lad’s eyes closed again, and Jack feared that it was but a momentary reviving. He chafed the lad’s hands again, and tried to force some cold water from the river between his set teeth.

Then Nat came running back, bearing a medicine box, which Mr. Ranger had insisted that Jack take with him. Long Gun, Sam and Bony followed.

Jack took out a bottle of ammonia, and held it beneath the nose of Budge. The powerful liquid fumes made Budge gasp, and he struggled to sit up.

“Hi! quit!” he called. “Don’t burn me!” For the ammonia stung him.

“Oh, he isn’t dead!” cried Nat, much relieved.

“Pretty soon be all right,” said Long Gun, who had been told what had happened. “Plenty much fresh air make um well.”

And he seemed to be right, for presently Budge sat up, opened his eyes, and began feeling in his pockets.

“What do you want?” asked Jack.

“Where’smygum?” was what Budge wanted to know, and his companions laughed.

“I guess you’re all right when you can chew gum,” spoke Jack. “But what made you go over by that sulphur spring?”

“I was shooting jack-rabbits,” explained Budge, “and I thought that would be a good place. I didn’t like the smell, but pretty soon I fell asleep, and then – ”

“Yes, and then if Jack and Nat hadn’t come along you’d be sleeping yet,” added Sam.

“’Sright,” admitted Budge.

They helped him back to camp, and he was soon feeling better, but he registered a firm resolve not to go too near the deadly gas spring again. Hunting was over for the day, and they were all soon gathered about the camp fire, telling their various experiences.

It was the middle of the night when Jack, who was rather restless, was awakened suddenly. At first he thought some one had called him, but as he raised up and looked over at his sleeping companions he realized that none of them were awake.

“I wonder what that noise was?” he asked himself.

Just then he heard, in the air above the tent, that same sighing, throbbing sound that had so startled them on a previous occasion. It was like the passage of some immense body through the air.

Jack, who was partly dressed, hurried to the flap of the tent. He peered upward into the blackness of the night.

Was it fancy, or did he see some great, mysterious shape moving over the camp? He could not tell, but the throbbing, swishing noise became fainter.

“I wonder what that is?” thought Jack as he went back to bed. In the morning he did not tell his chums nor Long Gun of the affair, fearing to frighten them.

They prepared for a big hunt the next day. There was a light fall of snow, which the Indian guide said would serve to enable them to track the game. They were out early in the morning on their horses, and were gone all day, keeping together. Jack shot a big buck, and Bony, to his great delight, brought down a fine mountain sheep, while the others had to be content with jack-rabbits.

Budge had entirely recovered from the effects of the deadly gas, but he said he felt too nervous to do any shooting, so he and Long Gun, who, despite his name, was a poor shot, simply trailed along in the rear.

“I’d like to get another pair of big horns for my room,” said Jack toward the close of the day. “What do you think, Long Gun, have we time to go a little farther and try for a big ram?”

“Hu! Mebby,” answered the Indian. “Plenty sheep been here,” and he pointed to where the animals had scraped away the snow to get at the grass and shrubs beneath.

Jack and Nat started off, while the others made a temporary camp and warmed some tea. They were to stay there until Jack and Nat returned, which the lads promised to do within an hour if they saw no signs of sheep.

They tramped on, having left their horses in the temporary camp, Jack eagerly watching for a sign of a big pair of horns.

“I guess I’m not going to find them this time,” he said as he mounted a pinnacle of rock and looked about him. “It looks like a good place, too,” he added.

“Hark, something’s coming,” said Nat in a whisper.

There was a crackling in the bushes to Jack’s right. He turned in that direction, his rifle in readiness. Something was moving there. Was it a mountain sheep?

He raised his gun. A dark object could be seen to be moving behind the screen of bushes, and the snow on them was shaken off.

Suddenly there stepped into view, not a mountain sheep, but the figure of a lad, all in tatters.

For an instant Jack and Nat stared at the youth. He had appeared so unexpectedly that they did not know what to say. On his part, the lad stood there silent, as if he did not know what to do.

Then Jack threw down his rifle and sprang forward, at the same time crying out:

“Bill! It’s Bill Williams! Well, how in the world did you ever get here?”

CHAPTER XXIII
ANOTHER NIGHT SCARE

Will Williams, the strange, new boy, whom Jack had last seen at Washington Hall, now so far away, rushed forward.

“Jack Ranger!” he gasped, as if he could not believe it.

“That’s who I am,” responded our hero. “But, Bill, what has happened? You look as if you were suffering.”

“I am suffering,” was the answer. “I’m almost starved!”

“Starved!” exclaimed Nat. “Wobble-sided watermelons! And our camp just filled with good things! Come on, Bill. We’ll feed you up.”

The two chums clasped Will successively by the hand. Then Jack asked:

“How did you get away out here? The last I heard of you was when I received a letter and a telegram from your guardian, asking me to send you home if I saw you.”

“You – you’re not going to – are you?” faltered Will.

“Am I?” Jack clasped his arm about the shrinking form of the unfortunate lad. “Well, I guess not! I’d like to have that guardian of yours here, for about five minutes!”

“Petrified pancakes! So would I!” exclaimed Nat. “I’d send him over where that bad-smelling spring is to spend the night. But, Bill, you haven’t told us how you got here.”

“I hardly know myself,” was the answer. “I did run away, just as Mr. Gabel told you, Jack. I couldn’t stand his mean ways any longer. He refused to let me go camping with you, and said I would have to go to work, while school was closed for repairs, to make up the money he said I stole. I decided I would come out West and try to find my uncle. He’s out here somewhere, but where I haven’t been able to learn. I had a few dollars saved up, that I had earned, and I came as far as they would bring me. Then I worked my way on from Chicago by jumping freights and by doing odd jobs whenever I got the chance. I heard, in a roundabout way, that my uncle was either in the southern part of Montana, or the northern part of Wyoming, and so I came on. I’ve been traveling around now for two weeks, trying to find him, and I’ve been living like a tramp, but I can’t seem to locate him. I met some men who said they knew him, but they acted so mysterious that I could get no information from them. They didn’t seem to want to tell me where he was. So I decided to keep on until I found him. I’ve been tramping all day, and when I heard you talking I thought maybe you were a party of hunters who would help me.”

“And so we will,” burst out Jack. “Come along to camp with us, Bill, and we’ll fix you up. It’s a shame, the way your guardian treats you. And your uncle can’t be much better.”

“Oh, he used to be kind to me,” said the unfortunate lad, “but I don’t believe he knows how things have gone with me. If I could find him I think he would take care of me.”

“Well, maybe we can help find him for you,” said Nat.

Little time was lost in getting back to the temporary camp, and there Will, who was weak and faint from hunger, was given a light meal. Then the whole party went on to the main camp, Will riding behind Jack, for the latter’s horse would carry double.

“My, but you certainly are doing this up in style,” remarked the ragged lad as he saw the fine tents and noted how comfortably Jack and his chums lived, in spite of the fact that they were far from civilization. His arrival created quite a sensation.

“Oh, when Jack Ranger does a thing, it’s done good and proper,” said Bony. “It’s the first outing out of the gun club, and he wants to make a record, I guess.”

“I want you all to have a good time, that’s all I want,” was Jack’s reply.

Some better clothes were found for Will, and after a good meal some of the hopelessness faded from his face. He told of his wanderings in the mountains, and how he had worked his way from camp to camp, and from stage station to stage station.

“But you’re done tramping around now,” said Jack.

“Have you – have you got room for me here?” faltered Will.

“Have we? Well, I guess!” was Jack’s hearty answer. “You can stay here as long as you like, or until you find your uncle. You’ve accepted my invitation to come camping, after all, and I guess your guardian would be surprised if he could see you now.”

“I guess he would,” remarked Will with a smile.

There was plenty of room in the big sleeping tent, and a bed was made up for the wanderer. It was the first good night’s rest he had had in nearly a week, he said.

As they had plenty of fresh meat in camp they did not go hunting for several days, but Jack and his chums could not remain inactive, so they all, including Will, went on short jaunts about the camp. A gun was provided for the newcomer, and he proved that he was a good shot, at least on jack-rabbits, which abounded in that region.

About a week after Will had joined his former chums they went on an all-day hunt. The luck fell to Bony and Sam this trip, for each of them killed a fine mountain ram, the horns of which were equal in size to the one slain by Jack.

Nat killed a small deer, and Will was delighted when he also brought one down.

“Plenty much game,” observed Long Gun. “No need hunt right ’way ’gin.”

“I guess Long Gun is getting tired,” observed Jack. “Well, of course we don’t want to kill just for the sake of killing, so I think we will take a few days off.”

The weather continued fine, being clear, and not too cold, while there was no deep snow to hamper the movements of the members of the gun club, though there were several light flurries. The lads went out on short trips, Will riding the horse assigned to Budge, for the latter was not a very enthusiastic sportsman, and would rather remain in camp, stretched on his back, chewing gum, than go after deer or mountain sheep.

“Well,” remarked Jack one night, about a week after the last hunt, “I think we’ll go out again to-morrow and try to fill up the cupboard again. Supplies of fresh meat are running low.”

“Good idea,” commented Nat. “Maybe you can get another ram with horns to match your first pair.”

Jack was successful in this venture, for after a long day’s jaunt he got a fine shot, just at sunset, bowling over a large ram. They took the head and horns back to camp, leaving the carcass to be brought in the next morning, having first taken the precaution, however, of tying the choicest portions high in a tree, out of the reach of marauding animals.

As they were all gathered about the camp fire that night, discussing the events of the day, Jack suddenly held up his hand to insure silence.

“Hark!” he exclaimed. “There’s that queer sound again.”

In the air over their heads was the rushing of great wings, while there was a throbbing as if some mighty beast was passing over the camp.

“Wow!” cried Long Gun, and he made a dive for the tent.

“That’s it!” said Nat softly. “I wonder if we shall ever solve the mystery?”

The boys looked at each other in alarm. Will sprang to his feet.

“That sound!” he cried. “I heard it one night when I was camping in the woods.”

“Where?” asked Jack.

“About ten miles from here. It’s the same noise.”

“We must solve this mystery!” exclaimed Jack. “I believe it must be – ”

But he did not finish the sentence, for from the air above them sounded the call of a voice:

“To the left! To the left!” was the cry. “There’s the camp fire we saw before.”

They all sprang to their feet and looked up into the dark sky. Surely that was some vast shape hovering over them! And then the throbbing and the rush of wings died away.

CHAPTER XXIV
JACK GETS A BEAR

“Fellows,” spoke Jack, and his voice trembled in spite of his efforts to render it steady, “we’ve got to get at the bottom of this.”

“That’s right,” agreed Bony.

“Maybe Bill can tell us something,” suggested Sam.

“Long Gun ought to know something about it. He’s lived around here all his life,” said Budge, speaking plainly this time.

“Long Gun thinks it’s spirits or something like that,” remarked Jack. “He’s so scared he can’t speak. But what about you, Bill? Are you sure you heard it before?”

“Yes,” replied the newcomer. “I heard that same noise about a week ago. I was in a lumber camp, to which I had worked my way, and one night, just about this time, we all heard that rushing sound in the air. Some of the men were frightened, but others said it was a flight of eagles or other big birds.”

“That’s what we thought it was, first,” came from Nat. “But I don’t believe it now.”

“Why not?” asked Bony. “It’s the same sound.”

“But did you hear some men speaking?” demanded Nat. “We didn’t hear that before.”

“No, that’s right,” agreed Jack. “And the voices were quite plain, as if they were close at hand.”

“Maybe they were chasing the peculiar creature, whatever it was,” suggested Sam.

“That might be it,” Jack said.

“Let’s give ’em a hail,” put in Bony.

The boys thought this a good idea, and united their voices in a loud shout. After that they fired their rifles in a volley, but no answer came back.

“Either they don’t hear us, or they don’t want to answer us,” commented Jack.

“Or else that big bird or beast, whatever it was they were chasing, has eaten them up,” suggested Budge, preparing to stow away a fresh wad of gum.

“Nonsense!” exclaimed Nat. “I don’t believe it was a big bird.”

“Waitansee,” was all Budge said.

Though the boys discussed the matter for some time longer, they could arrive at no satisfactory explanation. As for Long Gun, it was useless to ask him his opinion of the mysterious noise. He cowered under his blankets, murmured something about “bad spirits,” and predicted that evil would befall any one who sought to solve the secret.

The night was not disturbed by any further alarms, and they were all up bright and early the next morning, with fine appetites.

“The big bird, or whatever it was, didn’t steal any of us,” remarked Jack as he was washing for breakfast. “I hope it didn’t steal the ram I shot yesterday. We must go after that meat as soon as we have breakfast.”

Leaving Budge and Long Gun in camp, the others went to where Jack and Nat had slain the ram. It was quite a long ride, and they took their time.

“Look here, Jack,” called Nat, as, riding slightly in advance, he was first to arrive at where the carcass had been tied in a tree. “Something’s been here at it. There’s none of it left.”

“Do you mean that?” cried Jack, riding up.

“Sure. You can see it’s gone.”

The boys dismounted and went closer to the tree. There was no doubt but that the choice portions of the ram were gone. And at the foot of the tree the dirt was trampled down as if whatever it was that had stolen the meat had been put to considerable trouble to get it.

“It was a bear that took it!” cried Sam.

“How do you know?” asked Jack.

“Look where he climbed the tree. The bark’s torn off with his claws, and you can see the marks of his paws in the soft dirt.”

“That’s right,” agreed Nat. “Lopsided lollypops! but it must have been a big one, too! Look where the first marks of his claws begin,” and he pointed to abrasions in the bark a good distance above the ground.

“Do bears eat meat?” asked Bony, cracking all his finger knuckles excitedly.

“Sometimes, I believe,” answered Jack. “Anyway, if the bear that stole my ram didn’t get it for himself he must have pulled it down for some friends of his.”

“What do you mean?” asked Nat.

“Here are the marks of footsteps,” went on Jack, “and they aren’t ours, either. Look, whoever made these had heavy boots with hobnails in them, made in the shape of an arrow.”

He pointed to the ground. There, in addition to the paw-marks left by the bear, were footprints, clearly to be seen, and it needed but a glance to show that they had not been made by any of the boys or Long Gun.

“Some one – some men, that is – have been here since Nat and I were here yesterday,” went on Jack. “Either they or the bear took the ram.”

“Maybe they were the men we heard yelling last night,” suggested Nat.

“Yes, and maybe they have a trained bear, that goes around stealing meat for them,” added Sam with a laugh.

“Don’t get such crazy ideas,” objected Nat.

“Well, that might happen,” went on Sam. “Almost anything is likely to happen in this queer country. I wonder what we’d better do about it?”

“I know what I’m going to do,” said Jack.

“What?”

“I’m going to trail that bear. He’s left plenty of marks, and maybe I can get a shot at him. I owe him something for taking my meat, and he’ll make a good substitute.”

“That’s the way to talk,” cried Bony. “I’m with you, Jack.”

The marks of the bear’s paws were plainly visible for some distance, leading off to the right, and up the sloping side of a mountain. As for the footprints of the man or men, they were soon lost to sight. But the boys decided to trail the bear. They lost the marks after about a mile, but arguing that the beast would make nearly a straight line for his den, after he had the meat, the young hunters laid their course as well as they could by compass and kept on.

They had to travel slowly, because the road was not very good for the horses, and at noon they had not come up to bruin. Eating a light lunch, they kept on, and it was mid-afternoon when Jack, who was ahead, noticed that his horse suddenly stopped and began to shiver.

“Fellows,” he cried, “we’re near the bear. That’s what ails the horse.”

The other steeds began to exhibit signs of terror, so it was decided to dismount and lead them back a short distance.

“I’ll stay with the horses,” volunteered Bony. “I – er – I don’t exactly feel up to hunting bears to-day.”

“You’re not afraid, are you?” asked Sam.

“No, not exactly. You might call it – out of practice,” and Bony began cracking his knuckles.

They tried to persuade him to go with them, but he would not, so Jack, Will, Nat and Sam went on. It did not take much searching to discover a trail leading farther up the side of the mountain, and following this a little way they smelled the unmistakable odor of wild animals.

“His cave’s near here,” whispered Jack.

They came in sight of it a moment later, and then there was no doubt as to who had stolen part of the ram. For in front of a black opening in the side of the big hill was a portion of the carcass.

“I wonder if he’s in there?” said Jack.

“Maybe you’ll wish he wasn’t,” commented Sam.

“I will not,” was Jack’s bold reply. “I’m going to get a shot at him now.”

“How are you going to get him out?”

“I’ll show you.”

Jack quickly made a torch of some dry bark, and lighting it, tossed it into the mouth of the cave. Then he ran quickly back, and with his chums stood waiting with ready rifle.

“We’d better separate a bit,” said Nat. “If he comes out with a rush, and you miss him, Jack, we can take a crack at him.”

This was voted good advice, and Sam, Will and Nat moved down the slope a short distance, leaving Jack nearer the cave.

“I guess he isn’t going to come out,” called Jack to his chums. “He’s asleep, maybe. I’ll try to wake him up.”

He caught up a large stone, and tossed it into the cave. Hardly had he done so than there sounded a series of angry growls, and with a loud “woof!” bruin appeared at the mouth of the cavern, his little eyes glistening with wrath, and the fur on his back raised in a long ridge.

“Shoot him, Jack!” cried Nat.

But Jack did not need this advice. Dropping on one knee he took quick aim and pulled the trigger. At the sound of the shot bruin lurched forward, and without the loss of a second Jack pumped in another cartridge and let him have it right in the head.

Then the big, tawny brute, with a scream, launched himself forward, and doubling up into a ball, began to roll down the mountain-side, straight toward where Sam and Nat stood.

“Look out!” cried Jack, for he saw that the bear was in his death struggle, and might attack his chums.

Sam and Nat needed no warning, but as they turned to get out of the way of the infuriated creature, Nat’s foot slipped. He fell, and, to save himself, he clutched at Sam. They both went down in a heap, rolling over and over, but a few feet in front of the bear, that came bounding after them, clawing up dirt, stones and little shrubs as it tried to stay its progress.