CHAPTER XXII
HOT QUARTERS
In such critical moments events come and go with startling rapidity.
Bob Budd was never in greater peril than when fleeing from the enragedbuck that was determined to kill him. It was not only able to run muchfaster than he, but he was practically powerless to defend himself,since his gun was empty, and though he might face about and deliverone blow, it could effect nothing in the way of slaying or checkingthe animal.
In his terror the fugitive did the best thing possible without knowingit.
He caught sight of a large oak that had been blown down by someviolent gale, the trunk near the base being against the ground, whichsloped gradually upward and away from the earth to the top, which wasfully a dozen feet high, held in place by the large limbs bent andpartly broken beneath.
Without seeing how this shelter was to prove of any help to him, heran desperately for it.
Fortunately it was but a short distance off, or he never would havelived to reach it.
As it was, at the moment he gathered himself to spring upon thesloping trunk the pursuing buck reached and gave him a lift, whichaccomplished more than the fugitive wished, for instead of landingupon the trunk, he was boosted clean over, and fell on the other side.
Striking on his hands and knees, with his gun flying a rod from him,Bob crawled back under the tree, where he crouched in mortal terror.
The animal stopped short, and, rearing on his hind legs, brought hisfront hoofs together, and banged them downward with such force thatthey sank to the fetlocks into the earth.
His intention was to deliver this fearful blow upon the body of theboy, and had he succeeded in doing so it would have gashed his body asfatally as the downward sweep of a guillotine.
The interposition of the trunk saved Bob, but so close was the callthat the sharp hoofs grazed his clothing.
In his panic lest the infuriated beast should reach him, Bob scrambledthrough so far that he passed from under the sheltering tree.
Quick to see his mistake, the buck leaped lightly over the prostratetrunk, and, landing on the other side, again rose on his hind legs,placed his front hoofs together and brought them down with the sameterrific force as before.
Bob's escape this time was still narrower, for his coat was cut by theknife-like hoofs, which shaved off several pieces of the shaggy bark.
But the young hunter kept moving and scrambled out of reach from thatside just in the nick of time.
The buck bounded over again, but Bob was quick to see his mistake, andnow shrank into the closest quarters possible, taking care that thesolid roof covered him.
Then he forced his body toward the base of the leaning tree, until thenarrowing space permitted him to go no further, and he was socompressed that he could hardly breathe.
THE BUCK LEAPED LIGHTLY OVER THE PROSTRATE TRUNK]
Meanwhile he did not forget to use his lungs.
"Tom! Jim! hurry up or I'm lost! Where are you? Come, quick, I tellyou! the buck is killing me!"
The frantic appeal reached the ears it was intended for, and the twoother Piketon Rangers dashed toward the spot, though not withoutmisgiving, for the wild cries of their imperiled comrade warned themof the likelihood of running into danger themselves, and neither wasready to go to _that_ extent to save their leader.
Tom Wagstaff was the first to reach the spot, and he paused for amoment, bewildered by the scene.
He saw the buck bounding back and forth over the tree, rising on hishind legs and bringing down his front hoofs with vicious force,occasionally lowering his antlers as he endeavored to force thefugitive out of his refuge.
At the first Tom could not locate Bob, whom he expected to seestanding on his feet, braced against a tree and swinging his clubbedgun with all the power at his command.
The frantic shouts, however, enabled him to discover his friend, andhe called back:
"Keep up courage, old fellow! I'm here, and will give the beast hisfinishing touch!"
The exasperating buck fever had vanished, and Tom's nerves were assteady as could be wished, though he was naturally flustered by thestirring situation.
Bringing his gun to his shoulder, he aimed directly at the beast,which could not have offered a better target, and pulled bothtriggers.
But no report followed.
"Confound it!" he muttered, "I forgot that the old thing wasn'tloaded! Can't you stay there, Bob, for a day or two, till I go down toPiketon and bring forty or fifty people to pull you out?"
"No; I'll be killed," called back the furious Bob; "the buck will getat me in a minute more!"
"All right--"
"No, it aint; it's _all wrong_!" interrupted the terrified lad;"load your gun as quick as you can and shoot him!"
"That's what I'm trying to do--_good-bye_!"
At that juncture the buck seemed to decide there was a better chanceof reaching Tom than there was of getting at Bob, so leaving him alonefor the moment, he rushed at the former.
It was the sudden awakening to this fact which caused Tom to bid hiscomrade a hasty farewell and to take to his heels.
"I don't think an empty gun is much good to a fellow," said Tom,throwing it aside as he fled with great speed.
It was Tom's extremely good fortune that when he set on his frenziedflight he had a much better start than Bob Budd, and he knew enough toturn it to good account.
Heading straight for the nearest tree, he ran under it, making at thesame moment the most tremendous bound of which he was capable.
This leap enabled him to grasp one of the lower limbs with both handsand to draw himself up out of reach at the moment the buck thunderedbeneath.
"I wonder whether a deer can climb a tree," was the shuddering thoughtof the fellow, as he looked downward at the animal from which he hadjust had such a narrow escape; "'cause if he can, I'm in a bad box; Iwish he would go back to Bob."
And that is precisely what the buck did do.
Quick to perceive that the second lad was beyond his reach, he wheeledabout and trotted to the fallen tree.
Poor Bob, when he perceived the animal making after Tom, thought hisrelief had come, and began backing out from under the trunk of theoak.
He had barely time to free himself from the shaggy roof, when helooked around and saw that the buck was coming again.
"Hangnation! Why don't he let me alone?" he growled, and, it is safeto say, he never scrambled under shelter with such celerity in all hislife.
Quick as he was, he was not an instant too soon, for once more thesharp hoofs came within a hair of cutting their way through hisshoulder.
But so long as he shrank into the smallest possible space beneath theoak he was safe, though he felt anything but comfortable with the buckmaking such desperate efforts to reach him.
"Where the mischief is Jim?" growled Bob, who had just cause tocomplain of the dilatoriness of his companion; "why don't he comeforward and help us out?"
Jim McGovern had not been idle. He was the only member of the PiketonRangers that had a loaded gun at command, and when he heard the appealof Bob Budd he hurried from his station to his help.
But, as I have intimated, there was no member of that precious bandthat thought enough of the others to risk his life to help him, andJim, it may be said, felt his way.
Instead of dashing forward like Tom, who was ignorant of thecombativeness sometimes displayed by a wounded buck, he movedcautiously until he caught sight of the respective parties withoutexposing himself to the fury of the wounded animal.
Jim arrived at the moment the beast made for Tom, and the sightalarmed him.
"What's the use of a fellow getting killed just to do a favor for someone that wouldn't do as much for you?" was the thought that held thechivalrous young man motionless, when he ought to have rushed forwardto the defense of Bob Budd.
"Great Caesar!" muttered Jim, shrinking behind the tree which he wasusing for a concealment, "I never knew that a buck was such a savageanimal; he's wor
se than a royal Bengal tiger that's been robbed of itsyoung ones."
But Jim had a good double-barrelled gun in his hands, and he was soclose to the buck that it seemed to him he ought to be able to riddlehim with shot. Besides, Jim had not a particle of the buck fever whichincapacitated Tom, but which does not attack every amateur hunter.
"The best thing I can do is to climb this tree," he added, lookingupward at the limbs, "and then if I miss, why the buck can't get atme, for he don't look as though he's built for climbing trees."
At this juncture the buck was on the further side of the prostrateoak, trying to root out Bob from his shelter. Since he could not reachhim with his hoofs, he seemed to believe that a vigorous use of hisantlers would accomplish his purpose.
It looked as if he was about to succeed, for one of the blunt pointsgave Bob such a vigorous punch in his side that he howled with terror.
At the same moment, while staring about as best he could for the tardyJim, he caught sight of his white face peering around the tree behindwhich he stood.
"Why don't you shoot, Jim?" he yelled; "do you want to see me killed?The buck is ramming his antlers into my side! The next punch he givesme they will go clean through."
At this instant another party arrived on the scene.
The Campers Out; Or, The Right Path and the Wrong Page 22