“Yes, make them come,” put in Jasper Grinder. “I want to have a talk with them.” And he glared wickedly, first at Tom and then at Sam.
It must be confessed that Tom and Sam felt in anything but an enviable position. They knew Dan Baxter thoroughly, and knew he would stop at nothing to accomplish his purpose.
“The best thing you can do is to leave us alone,” said Tom steadily. “You have always got the worst of the bargain, Dan Baxter, and if you try any game on now, you’ll miss it again.”
“I’ll risk it, Tom Rover. Come now, and no more fooling. If you behave yourself, there won’t be any trouble.”
There was, then, nothing to do but to follow, for neither of the Rovers wished to lose this portion of the outfit. Soon the whole party were gathered around the fire, which Husty heaped high with brushwood. Back of the fire was a high cliff, topped with cedars, which kept off the wind and made the situation a fairly comfortable one.
“Now we had better come to an understanding,” said Dan Baxter, as he warmed his hands. “We all know what we are out here for, so there is no use in mincing matters.”
“I understand all I want to know,” answered Tom briefly.
“So do I,” put in Sam.
“Baxter shall settle with you, and then I’ll settle,” growled Jasper Grinder. “I have not forgotten how I was treated at Putnam Hall because of you.”
“It served you right that you were kicked out,” said Sam, without stopping to think twice.
“Ha! you dare to talk to me in this fashion!” roared the former teacher. “I’ll teach you a lesson! Just wait till I find a good switch!”
“Hold on Grinder! one at a time,” put in Dan Baxter. “I’ll settle with them first, if you please.”
“They deserve a thorough thrashing,” grumbled the irate man.
“Now I want you to tell me the truth,” went on Dan Baxter, addressing Tom and Sam. “Where did you get a map of that treasure? In the cave on that island?”
“We haven’t said we had a map,” returned Tom.
“But you must have a map—or something like it.”
“Whatever we have, it’s none of your business, Dan Baxter,” broke in Sam.
“Shut up, you little imp! Don’t you know you are in my power!” stormed Baxter, in a rage. “I can do as I please out here, and these three men will help me.”
As he finished he caught Sam by the collar and began to shake him.
“Let my brother alone!” ejaculated Tom. “Let up, I say!”
“I won’t, Tom Rover. He’s got to learn that I’m the master here,” howled Baxter.
“If you don’t let go, I’ll hit you,” went on Tom, and raised his right fist. But ere he could deliver the blow Bill Harney rushed behind him, caught him by the waist and threw him flat.
“That’s right!” shouted Dan Baxter. “Make them both prisoners! I’ve got a big score to settle with them!”
And then all four fell upon Sam and Tom, and a fierce struggle ensued, the outcome of which was for some time hard to predict.
CHAPTER XIX
DICK AND THE WILDCAT
“Well, it’s mighty funny Tom and Sam don’t come up.”
It was Dick who spoke. He stood in the shelter of a number of walnut trees, and close at hand was John Barrow.
The pair had missed the others ten minutes before, and were now waiting impatiently for their reappearance.
“It can’t be as how they missed the trail in this snow,” said John Barrow soberly. “Let us shout for ‘em.”
They set up a shout, and waited impatiently for an answer. But none came, and they called again.
“We had better go back for them,” said Dick, his face full of a troubled look. “I wouldn’t have them get lost in this snowstorm for the world.”
It was decided to leave the sled where it was, and soon they were hurrying along the back trail. But the snow and wind were against them, and they made slow progress.
“It will not be necessary to relate all the particulars of the next three hours. In vain they looked for Tom and Sam. Not a trace of the missing lads could be discovered.
“This the worst yet!” groaned Dick, as he came to a halt, all out of breath. “I thought, all along, that they were keeping close behind us!”
“I told them to do so,” returned the guide.
They had fired several shots, but the reports had failed, as we know, to reach the ears of the missing Rovers. They were now at their wits’ end regarding what to do next.
“I’d give a hundred dollars rather than have this happen,” went on Dick. “Why, they’ll starve to death if they really get lost!”
“Oh, aint you mistaken there, Dick? They have the other sled, remember; and each o’ ‘em has a gun for to bring down any game as is wanted.”
“That’s true, and it’s one comfort. But there is no telling when they reach civilization again. Why, this forest is about as bad as some places in the far West.”
“I believe you there, lad. Well, they’ve got to make the best o’ it. I reckon they’ll strike out for the river and come up that to Bear Pond, over the rocks an’ rapids an’ all.”
Supper time found the pair on the river again, four miles below Bear Pond. It was decided that they should camp at that spot for the night.
“We’ll build a big camp-fire and keep it a-going,” said Dick. “Perhaps they will see it.”
“That’s an idee,” returned John Barrow, and before doing anything else the camp-fire was started, in an open spot along the river bank. Dick saw to it that it blazed up merrily, and kept piling on all the dry brushwood he could find, until the flames shot up fully twenty feet into the air, making the surroundings as bright as day.
For supper they cooked another of the wild turkeys, but it must be confessed that Dick had little appetite for eating. John Barrow noticed it, and he did his best to cheer up the youth.
“Don’t worry too much, lad,” he said. “Take my word on it, they’ll turn up by morning, sure. You’ve said yourself they’ve been through putty tryin’ times, in Africa and out West.”
On the way to the river John Barrow had brought down several rabbits and some birds, and these were hung up on the low branches of a nearby tree. They proceeded to make themselves comfortable under this tree, cutting down some cedar branches for a flooring, and banking up some other branches and some snow to keep off the wind.
“I don’t think I’ll go to sleep,” said Dick. “I’m going to keep the fire piled high, so that it will light up as it’s doing now.”
“Then I’ll turn in right away,” answered the guide. “It’s eight o’clock. You call me at two, and that will be givin’ you a fair nap afore daybreak.” And so it was agreed.
It did not take John Barrow long to settle himself, and soon he was snoring as peacefully as though lying in his bed at home. Sitting down close to the fire, Dick gave himself up to his thoughts.
And what numerous thoughts they were—of home and of school, of his brothers, and of the Baxters and their other enemies, and of all that had happened since they had first started to go to Putnam Hall. And then he thought of the Lanings and of the Stanhopes, and lingered long over the mental picture of sweet Dora and of what she had last said to him.
“She’s just an all-right girl,” he said to himself. “Heaven bless her and keep her from any further trouble!”
When the fire showed signs of burning low he arose and piled on more brushwood. There was hardly enough at hand to suit him, and, ax in hand, he started back from the river, to cut more.
He was within fifteen feet of some dense bushes when of a sudden he came to a halt, as he saw a pair of gleaming eyes glaring at him. As soon as he noticed the eyes they disappeared.
“A wild animal,” he thought. “Can it be a wolf?”
Retracing his steps t
o the fire, he caught up his gun and waited. But the animal did not appear, nor did Dick hear any sound save the murmur of the wind through the snow-clad trees.
The youth wondered if he ought to awaken the guide, but finally resolved to let John Barrow sleep. “I ought to be able to take care of one wolf,” he reasoned. “I’ve taken care of worse than that in my time.”
Gun in hand, he advanced upon the bushes once more. He expected to see a wolf slink away at any moment, but no beast came to view, and, after walking completely around the growth, he laid down the gun and went to work vigorously with the ax.
Bush after bush was brought down in rapid succession, until in ten minutes Dick calculated he had cut sufficient to last the camp-fire for the rest of the night. Then he lowered the ax and caught up a large bush, to drag it close to the blaze.
As he turned around he met a sight that, for the instant, chilled him to the backbone. There, between the blaze and the tree under which John Barrow was sleeping, crouched a wildcat, a large, fierce-looking creature, with fire-shot eyes and a stubby tail which was moving noiselessly from side by side, as the creature prepared itself to make a leap.
“Gracious! he’s going to attack Mr. Barrow!” thought Dick, but even as this flashed over his mind the wildcat made a leap into the tree, close to where hung the game the guide had brought down some hours before.
“Thank goodness, he’s only after the meat,” thought Dick, and the chill he had experienced passed away. Then, struck with a new idea, he leaped for his gun.
Several twigs of the tree were in the way of getting a good aim, and he had to circle around to the other side before he could get another good view of the wildcat. In the meantime the beast had grabbed up the wild turkey that was left, and clutching it tight in its mouth, started to drop to the snow-covered ground.
Bang! went the gun and the charge of heavy shot took the wildcat in the left flank, making a bad, but not a fatal, wound. The beast dropped the wild turkey and let out a fearful snarl of rage. Then it saw Dick, gave another snarl, and leaped toward the youth.
The gun was double-barreled, and once more Dick let drive. But he was not overly cool, and the charge merely nipped the beast in its left front leg. It continued to come on, and as it did so Dick commenced to retreat.
“Hi! what’s up?” came from John Barrow, and throwing aside his blanket, he leaped to his feet.
“A wildcat!” ejaculated Dick. “Quick! Shoot him!”
“By gosh!” muttered the guide, and blinking in the bright light of the fire, he reached for his rifle, which he had brought along in addition to his shotgun.
By this time the wildcat was close to Dick, and now, watching its opportunity, it leaped upon the youth, trying to bury its claws in Dick’s shoulder.
Hardly knowing what to do, Dick brought around the gun barrel and poked it into the open mouth of the wildcat. With a gurgle of pain the beast fell back, but quickly gathered itself for another leap.
“Back!” shouted John Barrow. “Back, and let me git a shot at the critter!”
Dick was perfectly willing to retreat, and started to do so. But the wildcat was too quick for him, and in a twinkle youth and beast were down on the ground together, and the wildcat was trying to reach the boy’s throat with its cruel fangs!
CHAPTER XX
BEAR POND AT LAST
It was indeed a moment of supreme peril, and Dick felt very much as if his last moment on earth had come. He put out his hands mechanically and grabbed the wildcat by the throat, but his grip was poor and the beast shook itself clear with ease.
It was now that John Barrow showed himself to be a master of quick resources. To fire his rifle at the wildcat would have meant taking the risk of hitting Dick, and this the guide thought too perilous. Leaping to the fire, he caught up a long, burning brand and rushed at the beast with this.
To have a part of the fire thrust directly into its eyes was more than the beast had bargained for, and as soon as it felt the flame it gave a cry of alarm and fell back. As it did this Dick leaped to his feet and sprang several feet away.
John Barrow was now free to shoot, and hurling the firebrand at the wildcat, he caught up his rifle and blazed away in short order. The wildcat had turned to retreat, but the guide was too quick for it, and down went the beast with a shot through its head. It gave a shudder or two, and then stretched out, dead.
“Is he—he dead?” panted Dick, when he felt able to speak.
“Reckon so,” responded John Barrow. “But I’ll make sure.” And catching up a club, he aimed a blow which crushed the animal’s skull.
“That was a narrow escape,” went on Dick. “If you hadn’t come to my aid, I’m afraid he would have done me up.” And he shivered from head to foot.
“You want to be careful how you attack wildcats around here, lad. It aint likely they’ll tech you, if you don’t tech them. But if you do, why, look out, that’s all.”
“Do you think he would have sneaked off with the turkey? I was thinking first he would attack you.”
“Reckon he was after the game, and nuthin’ more, Dick. He must have been powerful hungry, or he wouldn’t have come so close to us. He’s a putty big fellow,” went on the guide, as he dragged the carcass closer to the firelight.
The fire was burning low, and Dick lost no time in heaping on some of the newly cut brushwood, and then he reloaded and the guide did the same.
“Might have a mate around,” suggested John Barrow. “We had better keep our eyes peeled, or we may be surprised. Wonder what time it is?”
By consulting a watch they found it was just midnight. After the excitement Dick felt quite sleepy, and inside of half an hour he followed the guide’s advice and laid down to rest—not under the tree, however, but as close to the camp-fire as safety permitted.
Dick had requested John Barrow to call him in three hours, so that the guide might get a little more sleep, but the youth was allowed to slumber until he aroused of his own accord, just as day was breaking.
“Hullo, I’ve slept all night!” he exclaimed, leaping up with something of a hurt look. “Why didn’t you call me?”
“I thought as how you needed the rest,” was the answer from the guide.
“Aren’t you sleepy?”
“Not very. A sleep early in the night generally does me more good nor hours o’ it later on.”
“You haven’t seen or heard anything of Tom or Sam?”
“Nary sight or sound, lad. It’s too bad, but don’t worry too much.”
“They couldn’t have seen the firelight,” returned Dick, with a sorry shake of his head. “It beats all where they went to, doesn’t it?”
“I’ve been a-thinking that maybe they went on ahead, Dick.”
“Ahead? That they somehow passed us?”
“Yes; while we were lookin’ for ‘em. They may be up at B’ar Pond now, waitin’ for us.”
“Do you advise going up there?”
“We might as well. We can put up a post here, with a message for ‘em—in case they do come this way.”
“That’s an idea, and we can put up other posts, too. Then, if they strike our trail, they’ll be sure to go straight in following us.” And Dick’s face brightened a bit.
John Barrow was already preparing breakfast, and he agreed with Dick to leave some cooked meat in a cloth tied to the top of the pole the youth erected not far from the fire. On the cloth they pinned a note, telling of the direction to Bear Pond, and asking Tom and Sam to follow and fire two shots, a minute apart, as a signal.
It was a clear day and the sun, shining over the mountain tops, made the snow and ice glitter like pearls and diamonds. There was no wind, so the journey toward Bear Pond was far from unpleasant. They moved slowly, dragging the sled behind them, and searching to the right and the left for some trace of the missing Rovers.
“I don’t believe they came up here,” said Dick after half the distance to the pond had been covered, “I don’t see the least trace of any human being, although I’ve seen the footprints of several wild animals.”
“The wind might have covered the tracks during the night,” was John Barrow’s hopeful response.
“I’d rather lose the treasure, even if it is worth thousands, than have anything happen to Sam and Tom.”
Just before noon they came to a point in the river where it divided into several branches.
“We’ll stop here and put up another sign pole,” said the guide. “Remember what I said? All these streams run into the pond and into Perch River. Now, which one you want, at tudder end, I don’t know.”
“Which is the largest branch?”
“Can’t say, exactly. This one an’ the one yonder are about the same size, and that one aint much smaller.”
“Well, which do you suppose was the largest years ago?”
“Can’t say that neither, although that one yonder might have been, by the looks o’ the banks.”
“Then let us start on that one. And if that fails us, we can then try the others.”
They skated to the stream in question and erected a pole in the middle of the ice, upon which a second note was posted. Having gone to the trouble of chopping a hole for the pole, John Barrow suggested they might try their hand at fishing.
“Might as well stay here a while,” he said. “If they are behind us, they may catch up.”
Dick was willing, and soon a line was baited and let down into the hole. It was in the water only a few seconds when the guide felt a bite and drew up a fine fish, weighing at least half a pound.
Dick was anxious to try it, and took the line from John Barrow’s hands. He was equally successful, and in a short while they had seven fish to their credit, weighing from a quarter to three-quarters of a pound apiece.
“I’m going to tie a fish to the top of the pole,” said Dick. “They may be hungry when they get here, especially if they miss the pole at our last camping place.”
“They won’t want to eat raw fish, lad.”
“No, and I’m going to put a few matches in a paper and tie it to the fish, so they can cook it, if they wish.”
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