“Three men, Bill Harney the guide, Lemuel Husty, and Jasper Grinder.”
“Jasper Grinder!” burst out Dick. “Impossible!”
“It is true, Dick. I was as much astonished as you.”
“I suppose Baxter promised him a share of the treasure if it was found.”
“More than likely. But I don’t believe they’ll find the treasure.”
Tom and Sam soon told their story, to which Dick and John Barrow listened with keen interest. Hardly, however, was the tale finished than the guide urged them to move on.
“It’s quite a few miles to camp,” he said. “And, unless I am mistaken, it’s getting ready for a big fall o’ snow.”
John Barrow was right about the snow. Less than quarter of an hour later the thick flakes began to fall. Then came a finer snow, which the wind blew around them like so much hard salt.
“We are in for a corker!” cried the guide. “The sooner we git back to our supplies the better it will be for us!”
CHAPTER XXV
SNOWED IN
With the coming of night the downfall of snow increased until it was impossible to see a dozen feet in any direction. The wind also increased in fury until it blew a regular gale. At first this was in their favor, being directly on their backs and sending them over the ice at a furious pace, but soon it shifted, first to the left and then to in front of them, and now further progress appeared out of the question.
“I’m afraid we can’t make it!” gasped Dick, turning to catch his breath. “I’m almost winded now.”
“I’ve got to stop,” came from Sam. “I’m ready to drop.”
“I can’t see a thing,” said Tom. “And I’m in mortal terror of skating into some big air-hole.”
“You are right, lads, we’ll have to give up the idea of reaching camp to-night,” came from John Barrow seriously. “But where to take you to out of this awful storm I scarcely know.”
“Any kind of shelter will do,” said Sam. “We can rig up a hut under some big cedar tree.”
“In that case, let us stick as closely to the river as possible.”
“Why?”
“We can get fish then, if we need ‘em.”
No more was said, and the guide at once led the way to a thick clump of cedars growing but a rod away from the edge of the river. The cedars formed something of a circle, about fifteen feet in diameter, and by clearing out some brushwood in the center they made quite a cozy resting place. On the outside the cedars were laced together, and the snow was banked up on all sides, leaving but one opening, two feet wide and several feet high, for the purpose of supplying them with fresh air.
By the time the shelter was ready for use all the boys were so fagged out they could scarcely stand. Dick and the guide had brought blankets with them, and one of these was placed over the opening temporarily, to keep out a large part of the wind. Then a candle was lit and John Barrow burnt up a little brushwood, “jest to take the chill outer the place,” as he explained. They did not dare to let the flames grow too high for fear of setting fire to the cedars themselves.
As the boys lay on the brushwood resting, they heard the wind outside increasing in violence, and saw the cedars bend to and fro, and listened to them creak dismally.
“Mr. Barrow, how long do you reckon this storm will last?” questioned Tom.
“There is no tellin’, lad. Perhaps through the night, an’ perhaps for a couple o’ days.”
“If it lasts two days, we’ll be snowed in for keeps!” came from Sam.
The guide shrugged his shoulders. “True, Sam, but we’ve got to take what comes.”
“Let us take account of our provisions,” said Dick. “If there is any prospect of our being snowed in we’ll have to eat sparingly, or run the risk of being starved to death.”
There was not much to count up: some meat and crackers Dick and the guide had brought along, and the meat, crackers, and the rabbit in Tom and Sam’s store. In his pockets John Barrow also carried some coffee, sugar, and some salt.
“Not such a very small lot,” was Dick’s comment. “But it might be more.”
A scanty evening meal was quickly disposed of, and then the candle was blown out, and all retired to rest. The boys were soon sound asleep, and presently the guide followed, but with his hand on his gun, ready for any attack by man or beast, should it come.
The night passed quietly enough, for presently the wind went down. The snow grew thicker than ever, until it covered the river to a depth of two feet and more. Around the cedars there was a huge drift, burying the shelter completely.
It was Dick who roused up first, to find all pitch-dark around him. Bringing out a match, he lit the candle and looked at his watch.
“Seven o’clock!” he murmured. “Guess I’ll go out and see what the weather is.”
Stretching himself, he walked to the blanket which had been placed over the opening, and tried to thrust it aside. At once a mass of snow came tumbling down and sifted in all directions, a good share on Tom’s face.
“Hi! who’s washing my face with snow?” cried Tom, as he opened his eyes and sat up. “That’s a mean trick, Dick, on a fellow who is dead tired out.”
“I didn’t mean to do it, Tom. I was going outside, to see how the weather is. I reckon the snow is pretty deep.”
The talking aroused the guide and Sam, and soon all were on their feet. The snow in the opening was pushed back and they forced their way outside, to find themselves in a drift up to their waists.
“Gosh, but we are right in it!” was Tom’s comment. “See, the river is completely covered. That settles skating.”
“And the worst of it is, it is still snowing,” came from Dick.
“With no signs of letting up,” finished John Barrow. “Boys, I am afraid we are snowed in, or snowed up, just as you feel like calling it.”
“Do you mean we’ll have to remain here?” questioned Sam quickly.
“For the present. We are a good four miles from the pond, and we can’t tramp that in this storm.”
The wind was rising again, with a dull moaning through the timber, and sending the flakes whirling in all directions, and they were glad enough to get back to the shelter of the cedars.
“We’ll clear a space in the snow and start a fire,” said the guide. “A hot cup o’ coffee will do us all good.”
“And we can cook that other rabbit Tom and I brought along,” put in Sam.
Brushwood was handy, and Tom helped to cut some of this with the hunting knife he had brought along. Soon a lively blaze was warming them up, and water was boiling for the coffee, while the rabbit was cleaned, and broiled on a long fork in the guide’s outfit. Crackers were running low, and they had but two apiece.
“I’ll try fishing as soon as I’m done,” said John Barrow, and was as good as his word.
It was no easy task to cut a hole through the ice, but once this was accomplished the fish were found to be lively enough, despite the storm and the cold. Inside of an hour they had a mess of nine, sufficient to last them for several meals. And while the others were fishing, Dick caught sight of a flock of birds, and brought down three.
“There, we won’t starve yet awhile,” said Dick, as he began to clean his game.
“That’s true,” answered Tom, “although we may get pretty tired of birds and fish before we get out of here and strike something different.”
“I wonder how the Baxter crowd is faring,” said Sam. “Unless they got back to the cave they can’t be having a very good time of it.”
“They don’t deserve a good time of it,” grumbled Tom. “They deserve to suffer.”
“Bill Harney is a good enough guide to know what to do,” put in John Barrow. “He will pull them through somehow—that is, if he knows enough to remain sober.”
They had hoped that the storm
would let up by noon, but twelve o’clock found the snow coming down as fast as ever, blotting out the landscape on every hand. Outside of the moaning of the wind all was as silent as a tomb.
There was but a little for the boys to do, and after the fishing was over they were glad enough to take it easy in the shelter and listen to several stories John Barrow had to tell. The guide also related what he knew concerning Goupert and the various hunts made for the missing treasure.
“He must have been a fierce sort of a man in his day,” observed Dick. “I don’t wonder the most of the folks in this region were content to leave him alone.”
It was almost nightfall when the snow stopped coming down, and then it was too dark to attempt the journey to Bear Pond.
“We’ll have to make another night of it here,” said John Barrow. “Then, if it’s clear, we can start for the pond early in the morning.”
“Hark!” cried Tom, rousing up. “Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?” came from the others.
“I thought I heard somebody calling.”
All listened. For a few seconds silence reigned, then came an uncertain sound from a considerable distance.
“There it is!”
“That’s somebody calling, sure,” said the guide. “Must be down along the river. I’ll go out an’ look.”
“Can I go along?” asked Dick. “You may want help—if somebody is in trouble.”
“All right. Bring your gun with you.”
In another minute they had started out, each with his gun, and with his trouser legs tied up with bits of cord, to keep the deep snow from reaching up to their boot-tops. Their course was directly for the river.
It was so dark they could see little or nothing, saving the whiteness which spread in all directions.
“Hullo! hullo!” yelled John Barrow, when the river was gained.
“Help!” came back faintly. “Help!”
“Somebody over thar!” said the guide, and pointed a short distance up the stream. “Guess he’s in a peck o’ trouble, too.”
He started in the direction, and Dick came close behind. The party in distress was a man, whose cries for aid were gradually becoming weaker and weaker. Before they reached the individual his voice ceased entirely.
“He has fainted from exhaustion,” said John Barrow, as he reached the wayfarer.
“Why, it’s Jasper Grinder, our old teacher,” ejaculated Dick.
The eldest Rover was right. The unfortunate man was indeed the former teacher of Putnam Hall, but so pinched and haggard as to be scarcely recognized. He had fallen on a bare rock, and this had cut open his left cheek, from which the blood was flowing.
CHAPTER XXVI
AN UNWELCOME COMRADE
“He’s in a bad way, that’s certain,” was Dick’s comment, as he surveyed the prostrate form. Even though Jasper Grinder was an enemy, he could not help but feel sorry for the man.
“We must get him up to our shelter as soon as possible,” replied John Barrow. “It is easy to see he is half frozen—and maybe starved.”
“Shall we carry him?”
“We’ll have to; there is no other way.”
Slinging their guns across their backs, they raised up the form of the unconscious man. He was a dead weight, and to carry him through that deep snow was no light task. Less than half the distance to the shelter was covered when Dick called a halt.
“I’ll have to rest up!” he gasped. “He weighs a ton.”
But in a few minutes he resumed the journey, and now they did not stop with their load until the shelter was reached. Tom and Sam were watching for them.
“Jasper Grinder, by all that’s wonderful!” burst out Tom.
“Was he alone?” questioned Sam.
“He was, so far as we could see,” answered Dick. “I can tell you, he’s almost a case for an undertaker.”
This remark made everyone feel sober, and while the two younger Rovers stirred up the fire, Dick and the guide did all in their power to bring the unconscious man to his senses. Some hot coffee was poured down his throat, and his hands and back were vigorously rubbed.
“Oh!” came faintly, at last, and Jasper Grinder slowly opened his eyes, “Oh!”
“Take it easy, Mr. Grinder,” said Dick kindly. “You are safe now.”
“But the bear! Where is the bear?” murmured the dazed man.
“There is no bear here.”
“He is after me! He wants to chew me up!”
With this Jasper Grinder relapsed into unconsciousness once more.
“I reckon a b’ar chased him and he lost his reckonin’,” was John Barrow’s comment. “Bring him up to the fire. He wants warmin’.”
Yet, with all the care they were able to bestow, it was a good hour before Jasper Grinder was able to sit up and relate what had occurred to him. He was very hungry, and eagerly disposed of every scrap of food they had to offer him.
“I have been lost in the timber since yesterday,” he said. “Oh, it was awful, the wind and the snow, and the intense cold. Sometimes I could not feel my feet, and I knew I was freezing to death. And I hadn’t a mouthful to eat!”
“But where are the others?” questioned Dick.
“I don’t know—back to that cave, I suppose. We were out looking for some trace of—ahem—of Tom and Sam, when I became separated from the others. Then, in trying to find my way back to the cave, I fell in with a big black bear. The ugly creature came after me, and I ran for my life, through the brushwood and the snow, until I came to a cliff. I fell over this, landed on an icy slope, and rolled and rolled until I struck the river. Then I got up and tried to get back to the cave, but it was out of the question. I found an opening in the cliff, on going back, and remained there until morning, when that bear, or another like him, roused me and caused me another roll down to the river.”
“Didn’t the bear follow you?” asked Tom.
“He followed as far as the river. But I ran with all my might through the deep snow, and presently he gave up the pursuit. Then I went on and on until I happened to catch a glimpse of your camp-fire, and set up a cry for help. I slipped on a rock and hit my cheek, and the loss of blood and the shock made me dizzy. The next I knew I was here.”
“You may be thankful that we found you and brought you in,” was the remark made by John Barrow. “If you had remained out there this night, you’d ‘a’ been a corpse by mornin’, sure!”
“I suppose that’s true,” said Jasper Grinder, with a thoughtful look. His experience had humbled him greatly. He was so exhausted that he soon fell asleep, breathing heavily. The boys and John Barrow gazed at him curiously.
“His being with us presents a problem,” said Dick. “What are we to do with him?”
“I’m sure I don’t want him along,” answered Sam promptly. He had hot forgotten the treatment received at Putnam Hall.
“None of us want him, I take it, Sam. But we can’t leave him behind to starve. And I doubt if he can find his way back to the Baxter camp alone.”
“No, he can’t do that,” put in the guide. “It is easy to see he knows nothing of the woods and mountains. He was a fool to come here.”
“If we take him along, we ought to make him do his share of the work,” said Tom. “But I don’t like it. He’ll be forever spying on us, and if we find that treasure he’ll try to get it away, mark my words.”
“The only thing we can do is to watch him, and not let him have any gun or pistol,” said Dick. “He won’t dare to leave us, unarmed, especially if we tell him of all the wild animals that are around.”
The subject was discussed for fully an hour, but no satisfactory conclusion was reached, and presently one after another dropped off to sleep; the guide being the last to lie down, after fixing the camp-fire for the night, so that a share of the warmth might drift int
o the shelter.
On the following day the sun came up bright and clear. It was still bitterly cold, and they were loath to leave the vicinity of the camp-fire. But John Barrow urged that they make good use of the clear weather, and so they started up the river as soon as they had disposed of their breakfast of fish and birds.
“To be sure I’ll go along, if I can walk,” was what Jasper Grinder said on being questioned, “I wouldn’t remain behind alone for a fortune, and I am sure I can’t find the Baxter party now. Please don’t cast me off! It wouldn’t be human!”
“I believe you’d cast us off, if we were in a similar situation,” was Tom’s comment. “The way you treated Sam at the Hall shows that you don’t care how some folks suffer. But you can go along, for we are not brutes. But you’ve got to be careful how you behave, or otherwise out you go, to shift for yourself, no matter how cold it is or how many wild animals are around.”
“I will do nothing that does not meet with the approval of all of you,” answered the former teacher humbly. “And remember, Thomas, I was willing to aid you when you were a prisoner in the cave in the gully.”
“You were—for a big consideration,” returned Tom dryly. “Let me tell you flatly, I don’t take much stock in your so-called generosity.”
They were soon on the way, straight down to the river and then up that stream. John Barrow was in the lead, with Sam following. Jasper came next, and Tom and Dick brought up the rear. As far as possible the guide sought out a trail along the timber, where the snow was not so deep. Here and there were bare spots, but at other places were deep drifts, where they frequently got in up to their armpits.
“This is no joke!” gasped Sam, after floundering through an extra deep drift. “I thought I was going out of sight that time.”
“I trust we haven’t much further to go,” was Jasper Grinder’s comment. “I would give a hundred dollars to be back at Timber Run.”
“It’s your own fault you are here,” retorted Sam.
“I might say the same of you,” returned the former teacher sharply.
By noon John Barrow calculated they had covered half the distance to Bear Pond. A sheltered nook was found between some rocks and trees, and here they set fire to a mass of brushwood, that they might get warm while they rested, and ate the last of the food on hand. There was no wind, and the sun, shining as brightly as ever, made the surface of the snow glitter like diamonds.
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