“We have our skates,” said Sam. “Skating would be easier than walking, and pulling the sleds on the ice would be child’s play.”
“Well, I allow as how I wouldn’t mind skatin’ myself,” said John Barrow thoughtfully. “I never thought of that before. If you want to, we can try that trail. We can take to the mountain any time, if we find skating no good.”
So it was arranged that they should strike out for Bear Pond by way of the river, and the sleds, of which there were two, were packed accordingly, and the boys saw to it that their skates were well sharpened and otherwise in good condition.
“When you’re skating, you want to look out for air holes,” was John Barrow’s caution. “Fer where the river runs between the mountains it is mighty deep in spots, I can tell you that!”
“Thanks, I’ll be on my guard,” answered Tom, with a shiver. “I’ve had all I want of icy baths this winter.”
The girls were sorry to see the boys leave so quickly, but were consoled when Tom promised to stay longer on the return. On the following morning breakfast was had at six o’clock, and by seven they were off, everybody wishing them a good time. Only Mrs. Barrow knew that the boys were on a treasure, and not a bird and wild animal, hunt.
It was a clear, frosty day and everybody was in the best of spirits. The boys wore fur caps and warm clothing, and each was provided with either a rifle or a shot-gun. So far they had seen but little game around the farm, but John Barrow assured them that the timber and mountains were full of game of all sorts.
“I wonder what route Dan Baxter’s party took,” said Dick, as they gained the river, and stopped to put on their skates.
“I didn’t hear what route they took,” answered their guide. “I reckon they went straight over the mountains. I don’t believe as how Bill Harney takes to skating.”
“Is this Bill Harney a good sort?” asked Tom. “If he is, I can tell you he has got into bad company.”
“Bill isn’t so bad when he’s sober. It’s when he gits full o’ rum that he makes things lively. He’s a great drinker.”
They were soon on the river, which at this point was fifty to sixty feet wide. The snow covered a large portion of the surface, but the wind had cleared many a long stretch, and they skated on these, dragging the sleds behind them. Each sled was packed high with the camping outfit, but they ran along readily.
“I wonder how long we’ll be out,” said Sam, as he skated by Tom’s side.
“I guess that will depend upon what luck we have, Sam. If we strike the right spot first clip we ought to be back inside of five or six days.”
As the party moved up the river they found the stream wound in and out between the mountains On either side were bare rocky walls or dense patches of timber, with here and there a tiny open space, now piled deep with snowdrifts.
“I see some rabbits ahead!” cried Tom presently. “Wonder if I can bring them down,” he added, as he unslung his gun. But long before he could take aim the bunnies were out of sight amid the timber.
“You’ll have to carry your gun in your hand for a shot at them,” came from Dick. “But be careful, or you may trip up on some frozen twig and shoot somebody.”
Mile after mile was passed, but no further game came to view, much to Tom’s disgust.
“Not much right around here,” said John Barrow, as he saw Tom put his gun back over his shoulder. “The boys from Timber Run have cleared the ground putty well. But you’ll see something sure a little further on—and maybe more’n you bargain for.”
“I’m not afraid of big game, Mr. Barrow. We faced some pretty bad animals when we were in Africa and out West.”
“I allow that must be so, Tom. But you want to be careful even so. A big mountain deer or a bear aint to be fooled with, I can tell you that.”
About eleven o’clock they came to the first falls above Timber Run. Here the water was frozen into solid masses, but the way was so uneven they found it profitable to take off their skates and “tote” the sleds around the spot. This necessitated a walk of several hundred feet through the timber skirting the edge of the river. The way was uncertain, and John Barrow went ahead, to steer the party clear of any danger.
“Finest timber in the world right here,” he observed. “I can’t see why the timber company don’t get together and put it in the market. It would fetch a good price.”
“Wait! I see something in yonder trees!” cried Dick, in a low voice. “Can you make out what they are?”
“Wild turkeys!” answered the guide. “Git down behind these bushes. If we can bag a few of them, we’ll have rich eatin’ for a few days!”
CHAPTER XV
WILD TURKEYS
Without delay the Rover boys dropped behind the bushes, and John Barrow did the same. All kept as quiet as possible, for they knew that on the first alarm the wild turkeys would be off.
The game was not over six feet from the ground, sitting in three rows on as many branches of a hemlock that overhung the stream. There were over a dozen in the flock, each as plump as wild turkeys ever get.
“How shall we fire?” asked Dick. “There is no call for all of us to shoot at the same bird.”
“I’ll take one on the left,” answered John Barrow. “You take one on the right. Tom can take a middle one sitting high, and Sam a middle one sitting low. All ready?”
“Yes,” came the answer, from one after another.
“Then fire when I say three. One, two—three!”
Bang! bang! went the firearms, and as the reports echoed through the forest, two of the wild turkeys were seen to drop dead under the branches upon which they had been sitting. One, that was badly wounded, fluttered down and began to thrash around in the brush. The rest of the flock flew away with a rush and were lost to sight between the trees.
“Three! That isn’t so bad!” cried Dick, as they all started on a run forward. Soon they had the turkey on the ground surrounded, and John Barrow caught up the game and wrung its neck.
“I guess I missed my mark,” came rather sheepishly from Tom.
“You!” exclaimed Sam, in surprise. “I was just going to say I had missed.”
“Nobody missed,” put in the guide.
“Nobody?” came from the three Rovers.
“Somebody must have missed,” added Tom. “We fired four shots and only got three birds.”
“One of those that flew off was wounded. He dropped a lot of feathers and went up in a shaky fashion. Of course, he got away, but just the same, he was hit.”
“Well, I thought I missed clean and clear,” said Tom doubtfully.
“And I thought I missed,” laughed Sam. “I guess we’ll have to divide that third bird between us, Tom.”
“We’ve got all the wild-turkey meat we’ll want on this trip,” came from John Barrow. “Before this is gone, you’ll want a change, I’ll warrant you.”
While the guide was caring for the birds the boys went back for the sleds. Soon they were again on the way, and they did not stop until the vicinity of the falls was left far behind and they had again reached a point where skating would be good for several miles.
“Reckon we can stop here and have dinner,” observed the guide. “Feelin’ kind o’ hungry, aint you?”
“Just guess I am hungry,” declared Tom “But I didn’t want to say anything till the rest did.”
Some of the cooking utensils were unpacked, and while the boys got wood for the fire, John Barrow brought out some coffee and other things. It was decided that they should not take time to cook a turkey until they went into camp for the night.
Soon a fire was blazing merrily. They built it under the outer end of a long tree limb, and from the limb suspended a pot full of water by a long iron chain they had brought along. As the ground was covered with snow, there was little danger of spreading a conflagration. Soon the water was
boiling and the guide made a steaming pot of coffee, which was passed around in tin cups, with sugar and a little condensed milk. They had brought along bread, cheese, chipped beef, and boiled eggs, and also a mince pie which Mrs. Barrow had baked the day before, and these made what Tom declared was a famous dinner.
“No sauce like hunger sauce,” laughed John Barrow, as he saw the lads stow the food away. “Once I was trampin’ the mountains all day without a mouthful when I chanced to look in a corner o’ my game bag and found a slice o’ bread, at least two weeks old. I ate that bread up, hard as it was, and nuthin’ ever tasted sweeter.”
“You’re right,” returned Dick. “The folks in the city who don’t know what to get to tickle their appetite ought to go hungry a few times. Then I’m sure they’d appreciate what they got.”
The midday meal finished, they lost no time in repacking the sled load and starting up the river once more. The stream was now wider than before, and presently spread out into a small lake.
“This is known as Tillard’s Pond,” said John Barrow. “Feller named Gus Tillard built his cabin over yonder, about ten years ago. He went out bar-huntin’ one day, and Mr. Bar came along and chewed him up.”
“Gracious! Then there must be pretty ugly customers in this vicinity,” exclaimed Sam, with a shiver.
“Not so many as there used to be. After Tillard’s death the boys over to the Run organized a b’ar hunt, and we brought in six o’ the critters. Reckon thet scart the others—leas’wise no b’ars showed up fer a long while after.”
Out on Tillard’s Pond a stiff breeze was blowing, and consequently their progress was not as rapid as it had been, nor were any of them as warm as formerly.
“We’re going to have a cold first night, I can tell you that,” said Dick, and his prediction proved true. By the time the sun sank to rest behind the mountain in the west it was “snapping cold,” as Tom expressed it. The wind increased until to go forward was almost impossible.
“I know a pretty good place to rest in,” said the guide. “It isn’t over quarter of a mile from here. If we can make that we’ll be all right till mornin’.”
John Barrow led the way, pulling one of the sleds, and the boys followed. Poor Sam was getting winded and skated only with the greatest of difficulty.
It was dark when they reached the location the guide had in mind—a rocky wall on one side of the river. At one point there was a split in the rocks. This was overgrown at the top with cedars and brushwood, forming something of a cave, ten or twelve feet wide and twice as deep, the bottom of which was of rock and fairly smooth.
“I camped here two winters ago,” said John Barrow, as he called a halt. “I laced up the cedars above and they formed a fust-rate roof.”
“I guess they are pretty well laced still,” observed Dick. “They seem to hold the snow very well. But we won’t dare to make a fire in there.”
“We’ll build a fire in front, in this hollow, Dick. That will throw a good deal of hot air into the place, and if we wrap ourselves in our blankets we’ll be warm enough.”
Everyone in the party was anxious to get out of the nipping wind, and they lost no time in entering the “cave,” as Sam called it. The entrance was low, and by placing the two sleds in an upright position on either side they left an opening not over a yard wide. Directly in front of this the boys started a roaring fire, cutting down several dwarf cedars for that purpose.
“I don’t much like the looks o’ the sky to-night,” observed John Barrow, after preparing one of the turkeys for cooking.
“Do you think there is a storm coming?” asked Tom.
“Looks to me like snow, an plenty of it.”
“I hope it doesn’t come until we reach Bear Pond,” said Dick, “I don’t want Dan Baxter and his crowd to get ahead of us.”
“They won’t have no better time o’ it than we’ll have,” was the guide’s grim comment. “Aint no fun trampin’ over the mountains with the snow comin’ down heavily; I can tell you that.”
The wind continued to increase, and after the supper was cooked and brought into the shelter, the guide took it upon himself to bank the fire with great care, that it might not blow into the forest and start a big conflagration.
“We’ve had some terrible fires here,” he said. “One threatened my barn two years ago, and we had to stay out two days an’ a night a-fightin’ it. It would be a bad thing a night like this.”
To keep out the cold, Dick crawled to the top of the opening and bound in the cedar limbs closer than ever. He also got some brush-wood and some vines, and on these placed a thick layer of snow.
“That’s fine!” cried Sam, from below. “It’s almost as tight as the roof of a cabin.”
Tightening the roof made a big difference inside, and when they had hung up a blanket behind the upright sleds, and placed some cedar brush on the floor, it was very cozy. They had brought along some candles, and one of these was lit and placed in a lantern which was in one of the packs. It was not a bright light, but it was better than sitting in the dark, and it seemed to make the shelter warmer than ever.
CHAPTER XVI
ON THE WRONG TRAIL
One of the turkeys was finished even to the neck piece, and then both Tom and Sam declared that they were so sleepy they could scarcely keep their eyes open.
“It must be the mountain air,” said Dick. “I’m sleepy, too. Let us turn in.”
“Will anybody have to stand watch?” asked Sam.
At this John Barrow shook his head. “Don’t know as it’s necessary,” he said. “Reckon we’re safe enough. I’ll keep my gun handy, in case any animal prowls around.”
The boys laid down and were soon in the land of dreams. Tom and Sam slept near the back wall, with Dick next, and the guide near the opening, which, however, was now completely closed by the blanket. The fire was allowed to die down, for they did not dare to build it up, with such a wind blowing.
Nothing came to disturb them. Once during the night Dick roused up and heard the distant howling of a wolf. But the beast did not venture close to the shelter, and while waiting for its appearance the youth dropped asleep again.
By midnight the wind fell a little, and then it began to snow, and it was still snowing when John Barrow leaped up, pushed the blanket aside, and gazed out upon the river.
“Hullo, we’re in for it now!” he cried, and as the boys sat up, he added: “Snowin’—mighty hard, too.”
“I should say it was snowing hard!” cried Tom, as he, too, looked out. “Why, you can’t see the trees on the other side, and they aren’t more than a hundred and fifty feet off.”
“This will make traveling bad,” said Dick soberly. “It almost looks as if we were going to be snowed in.”
“Snowed in?” echoed Sam. “Oh, don’t say that!”
The boys were somewhat stiff after their long skate of the day before, and it took them some minutes to pull themselves together. Then the curtain was pushed aside, and the fire started up with some dry brushwood from the pile on which they had slept. Soon breakfast was ready, and this warmed them up and put new life in them.
“No use to linger here,” announced the guide. “It won’t git no better an’ it may git a heap sight worse. I reckon the wind kept some o’ the spots on the river clear. I know a good camping spot ten miles from here, and that will be just the place for us while you are huntin’ around fer that money.”
“Then let us make that camping spot by all means,” said Tom. “We mustn’t let Baxter get first whack at the treasure.”
It was eight o’clock when they started once more on their journey. The air was dull and heavy, and the snow came down in thick flakes, which presently shut out the landscape on all sides. Fortunately the wind had died down entirely, so it was not near so cold as it had been.
“It would be easy enough, if we could stick to the r
iver all the way,” remarked. Tom to Sam, as they skated along as best they could.
“Can’t we?”
“Mr. Barrow says not. About two miles from here are another falls and a set of rocky rapids, and we’ll have to walk around for a distance of nearly a mile through the woods.”
What Tom said was true, and the falls were reached less than an hour later. The river was very narrow at this point and lined on both sides with rough rocks. Climbing was difficult, and after crawling along for a few rods the boys halted in dismay.
“We’re up against it now,” groaned Dick
“Don’t be discouraged lads!” came from the guide. “It isn’t so bad a short distance further on. Follow me.” And he started again, and there was nothing to do but to fall in behind him.
John Barrow and Dick carried one sled, and Tom and Sam, the other. In some places the cedars and brush were so thick that those in advance pushed through only with extreme difficulty.
“Well, we haven’t got the task of breaking the way,” said Tom, as he and Sam stopped to get their wind. “It’s no fool job to break through this thicket.”
“We are going up a hill,” returned Sam. “We must be getting away from the river.”
The guide and Dick had disappeared ahead, and, fearful of losing them, the younger Rovers set off once more. Carrying the heavy sled up the hill was, however, a great task, especially for Sam, and once at the top they had to rest again.
“I believe it would have been just as easy to have kept to the river,” declared Tom “See, there it is, to our left.”
“It certainly doesn’t look very rough down there,” was his brother’s comment. “Gracious, but Dick and Mr. Barrow plow along like steam engines!” he added. “I can’t go so fast.”
“We won’t hurry, there is no need. The trail is plain enough,” said Tom, and so they rested fully quarter of an hour. Then they heard Dick calling to them from a long distance ahead.
“All right; we’re coming!” Tom called back. “Just please don’t go so awfully fast!”
“We are going to take the trail to the left!” Dick shouted back, but the others did not catch the words.
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