“I hope we get a chance at some deer while we are up here,” remarked Dick, as they turned back.
“I’ll take you to where there are deer, after this hunt is over,” replied John Barrow. “I know a famous spot, and it’s not far, either.”
“Hark!” suddenly cried Tom. “What sort of a yelping is that?”
All listened.
“Wolves!” answered John Barrow. “There must be quite a pack of ‘em, too.”
“I suppose they get pretty hungry when there is such a deep snow,” said Tom.
“They do. More’n likely some of ‘em have scented our b’ar meat and they want some.”
“If they are heading for camp, they’ll give Jasper Grinder trouble,” put in Sam.
He had scarcely spoken when they heard the report of a gun, followed by a louder yelping than ever.
“They’ve attacked him, true enough!” cried John Barrow.
“Come on,” said Dick. “The sooner we get back the better. Grinder may be having a pile of trouble, and the wolves may tear all our things to pieces if they get the chance.”
CHAPTER XXIX
JASPER GRINDER AND THE WOLVES
Left to himself, Jasper Grinder piled the wood on the camp-fire and then sat down to meditate on the turn affairs had taken.
He was in a thoroughly sour frame of mind. To his way of thinking everything had gone wrong, and he wondered how matters would terminate.
“I was a fool to come out here, in the first place,” he told himself. “I ought to have known that Baxter had no sure thing of it. If I hadn’t fallen in with the Rovers, I would have frozen and starved to death. And they don’t want me; that’s plainly to be seen.”
Had he felt able to do so, he would have packed a knapsack with provisions and started oh his way down the river toward Timber Run. But he did not know how far the settlement was away, and he was afraid to trust himself alone in such a wilderness as confronted him on every hand. He did not possess much money, but he would have given every dollar to be safe back in the city again.
He wondered if the Rovers would gain possession of the treasure before the Baxter party came up, and also wondered what would happen should the two parties come together. He had not been treated very well by Dan Baxter, and so he hardly cared who came out on top in the struggle for the treasure.
“Whoever gets it will try to count me out,” was the way he reasoned. “I’m at the bottom of the heap, and likely to stay there for some time to come.”
The time dragged slowly, and to occupy himself he began to cut more wood for the fire. The task made him grit his teeth.
“Got to work like a common woodchopper,” he muttered. “It’s a shame!”
He was just dragging the last of the wood up to the fire when a sudden yelping broke upon his ears. Looking up, he saw a lone wolf standing at the edge of the timber, gazing fixedly at him.
“A wolf!” he muttered, and his face grew pale. “Scat!” And he waved his hand threateningly.
The wolf disappeared behind some brush, but did not go far. Sitting down, it let out the most dismal howls imaginable, which soon brought a dozen or more other wolves to the scene. Then all of the pack came into view, much to Jasper Grinder’s horror.
“They want to eat me up!” he groaned, and ran for the nearest tree, which was close to the shelter. “Oh, I must get away, somehow!”
He clutched at the tree and began to climb with all possible-speed. His gun lay close at hand, but in his haste he forgot to pick it up. Once in the tree he sat down on a limb, a perfect picture of misery.
Seeing the man retreat the wolves at once became bolder, and keeping a safe distance from the fire, they drew up in a circle around the tree upon which Jasper Grinder rested, and from which hung the bear meat. At one point under the tree there was a spot covered with bear’s blood, and this blood several of the wolves licked up in a manner to make the former teacher’s own blood run cold.
“If they get at me they’ll chew me up, I know they will,” he moaned. “Oh, why did I ever come out in this savage waste!”
Sitting in a circle, the wolves lifted their heads and howled dismally. Two came to the tree and scratched the bark, as if to attempt climbing.
“Go away! Go away!” shrieked Jasper Grinder. “Scat! Go away!”
The wolves left the tree-trunk, but did not go away. Instead one after another began to leap up, trying to reach the meat which hung so temptingly above them. One or two prowled among the stores, tearing this and that, and picking up the scraps of the morning meal.
In this fashion half an hour went by, and it is safe to state that this was the longest and most trying half hour that Jasper Grinder experienced in his whole life. He shouted at the wolves and threw bits of sticks at them, but to this they paid no attention. Then he cried for help, but the Rovers and John Barrow were too far off to hear him.
“If I only had the gun, I could fire it as a signal,” he said to himself. “Why did I not bring it up with me?”
He wondered if he could pull the gun up by means of a string he found in his pocket, and resolved to try. Making a loop in one end of the string he lowered it with care, until it rested close to the gun, and then he did his best to slide the string along under the barrel. This was comparatively easy, for the barrel was tilted up against a rock.
The wolves watched the maneuvering with interest, and no sooner did the gun begin to shift than three leaped forward, snarling angrily. One snapped at the barrel of the piece, one at the butt, and a third at the trigger. An instant later came the report heard by the Rovers and John Barrow.
The shot was almost a deadly one, not alone for two of the wolves, but also for Jasper Grinder, who was not expecting the gun to go off. The piece was loaded with buckshot, which tore through the sides of two of the beasts, and then passed upward into the tree-branches, taking the former school-teacher in the left shoulder.
“I’m shot!” gasped Jasper Grinder, and almost fell from his perch. But he managed to save himself, and hung in a crotch, weak and almost helpless, the blood flowing freely and dripping to the ground, where the wolves licked it up eagerly. A few had retreated at the report of the gun, but now all came back, snarling and yelping more wildly than ever.
It must be confessed that Jasper Grinder’s position was truly unfortunate. The loss of blood was fast rendering him unconscious, and he was in mortal terror of dropping down and being devoured.
“Help!” he called feebly. “Help! For the love of Heaven, help me!”
Just as his senses were leaving him he heard a distant cry, and looking in that direction, saw John Barrow and Dick approaching, followed by Tom and Sam.
“The wolves have Grinder treed,” cried the guide. “I’ll give ‘em something to remember us by!”
He had a double-barreled shotgun, and he let drive twice in quick succession, firing into two groups of the beasts, and killing two and wounding several others. Then Dick fired, bringing down another. Tom and Sam also discharged their pieces, and added three others to the dead or dying.
This slaughter was too much for the remaining wolves, hungry as they were, and in a twinkle they ran off into the timber, howling dismally.
“They won’t come back,” was John Barrow’s comment. “They have learned to respect us.” And he was right, the wolves bothered them no more.
While the guide was busy finishing the beast which had been too much hurt to retreat, the boys turned their attention to Jasper Grinder. They saw he had fainted, and noticed the blood dripping from his shoulder. His body was slowly leaving the tree crotch where it had rested.
“He’s coming! Catch him!” cried Sam, and as the unconscious man came down they did what they could to break his fall. Fortunately he landed in the deep snow, so the fall proved of small consequence.
“He’s shot, that’s what’s the matter wi
th him,” said Dick, after an examination. “Who fired at him? I’m certain none of us did.”
The question could not be answered. Bringing out a blanket, they placed Jasper Grinder upon it, close to the fire, and John Barrow made an examination of the wound, picking out a couple of the loose buckshot.
“He was probably shot from his own gun,” said the guide. “More than likely he dropped the piece from the tree, and it went off when it struck the ground.”
They bound up the wound carefully, and did all they could for the sufferer. Then, while Dick watched over Jasper Grinder, the others got rid of the wolves’ carcasses by dragging them into the timber, and then set to work to prepare the midday meal.
It was fully an hour before Jasper Grinder was able to speak, and then he could say but little. But he explained how it was that he had been shot. He wanted to know if the wolves had been driven off, and begged that they would not leave him alone again.
“We’ll stay by you, now you are down,” said Dick sympathetically. “We are not brutes, even though we haven’t any great love for you.”
“Thank you; I’ll not forget your kindness,” returned Jasper Grinder, and for once it must be admitted that he meant what he said.
The wounded man could eat no solid food, so they prepared for him some broth made from bear’s meat, which was very strengthening. After another examination John Barrow was of the opinion that the wound was not a dangerous one, but that the man would have to keep quiet for several days or a week.
“We’ll have to take turns at watching him,” said Dick. “It’s too bad, but I see no other way out of it.”
They drew lots, and it fell to Sam to remain with the patient during the afternoon. An hour later Dick, Tom, and the guide set off to look once more for the treasure.
“Well, I’m tired enough to stay here and rest,” said Sam. “That walking this morning played me out completely.”
There was not much to do, since Jasper Grinder had brought in sufficient wood to last for a day or two. For an hour Sam rested and watched the former teacher, who had fallen into a doze. Then the youngest Rover set to work to improve the shelter, doing several things which the guide had suggested.
The youth was hard at work patching up one side of the improvised hut when he heard a movement in the brushwood not far away. Fearing some wild animal he ran for his gun, but ere he could reach the firearm a voice arrested him.
“Stop, Sam Rover, stop!”
The voice was that of Dan Baxter, and an instant later the bully came into view, rifle in hand, and followed by Bill Harney.
“What do you want here, Baxter?” demanded Sam, as coolly as he could, although the situation by no means pleased him.
“Are you alone?”
“No.”
“Who is with you?”
“What business is that of yours?”
“I’m making it my business.”
“I reckon he’s alone, right enough,” put in Bill Harney. “I don’t see anybody else around.”
The big guide rushed forward, and knocking down Sam’s gun placed his foot upon it.
“Give me my gun!”
“Not so fast, my bantam!” cried the guide. “Baxter, reckon ye had better look into the shack and see what’s there.”
The bully did as requested. On seeing Jasper Grinder, he started back.
“Grinder!”
“Who calls?” asked the wounded man, and opened his eyes. “So it is you, Dan Baxter. What do you want?”
“What did you desert us for, Grinder?”
“I didn’t desert you. I got lost, and they found me, half starved and frozen. Now I am wounded. Are you in possession of this camp? Where are the Rovers?”
“Sam is here. I don’t know anything about the others. Have they found that treasure yet?”
“No. They went off to look for it.” Jasper Grinder tried to go on, but fell back exhausted and could say no more.
“Here’s a queer go!” muttered the former bully of Putnam Hall. “I suppose they shot Grinder. If they did, they ought to suffer for it. I guess—Hullo, what’s up out there?”
A scuffle outside of the shelter had reached his ears. Bill Harney had been standing close to some firewood, and without warning Sam had rushed at the big guide and sent him sprawling backward.
“Hi! stop him!” yelled the guide, as he started to struggle to his feet. But before he could get up, Sam had taken time by the forelock and disappeared into the timber skirting the pond.
CHAPTER XXX
A SUCCESSFUL SEARCH—CONCLUSION
When Sam escaped from big Bill Harney he had but one purpose in view, and that was to reach Dick and the others just as soon as possible and acquaint them with the turn affairs had taken.
He had a fairly good idea of the direction the others had taken, and knew that their tracks in the snow would be plain to follow. The main thing at the start was to keep out of sight of the enemy.
In doing this, he had not only to avoid Harney and Baxter, but also Husty, providing that individual was anywhere around, which was probable. Consequently, although he traveled as fast as the deep snow permitted, he kept a sharp lookout on every side.
The youth soon circled the lower shore of Bear Pond, and he found the trail he was seeking. It led directly to the westward, and he followed it up, almost on a run.
In the meantime Dick, Tom, and John Barrow had journeyed to the third outlet of the lake, the stream which the guide thought must be the original of Perch River. Here, after a good deal of trouble, the party located what looked like the stump of a tree once struck by lightning.
“We’ve found it at last!” cried Dick. “I feel it in my bones that we are on the right track!”
Again they measured off the distance with care, and now came to a large flat rock, behind which was another, unusually sharp.
“The flat rock!” muttered Tom, and his heart began to thump wildly. “Dick, you’re right. We are on the right track. If the treasure isn’t here, it’s been taken away.”
They had brought along a pick and a crowbar, and now all set to work to clear away the snow, and then the dirt from around the pointed rock. The ground was hard, and at first they made but slow progress.
“Perhaps we’ll have to build a fire, to thaw out the ground,” suggested John Barrow.
“Oh, that will take too long,” said Tom. “I wonder if we can’t turn the rock over?”
With the crowbar and the pick wedged against the flat rock they pushed upon the pointed rock with all the force at their command. Several times the tools slipped, but at last they held, and slowly the pointed rock went up, until with a thud it rolled over and several feet away.
“Hurrah, a hole full of small stones!” cried Dick, and leaped down to pick the stones out. Tom followed, and so did the guide.
“Dick! Tom! Hullo! hullo!” came the unexpected cry from a short distance away.
“Who is that calling?” demanded Dick.
“It’s Sam,” replied the guide, looking up. “He’s coming here as fast as he can track it.”
“Then something is wrong,” said Dick, and for the moment the treasure was forgotten.
It did not take Sam long to reach them. He was so out of breath that for several minutes he was unable to talk connectedly. At last he gasped out:
“Dan Baxter and that big guide—they attacked me and I ran away. They—they are in possession of our traps.”
“Baxter!” ejaculated Dick. “That’s the worst yet. They’ll steal all our things and leave us to starve!”
“We might as well go right after them,” put in John Barrow.
“Oh, say, let’s unearth this treasure first,” pleaded Tom. “If we leave that, Baxter may follow up our tracks, as Sam did, and take it from under our very noses.”
“Tom is right—ge
t the treasure first,” said Dick.
Once more they set to work, Sam watching them while trying to get back his breath and strength. Soon the last of the loose stones were removed from the hole, and they came upon a thin metallic slab having in the center a small ring. They pulled the slab up and disclosed a small square opening, in the middle of which rested a metallic box, about a foot and a half square and a foot in depth. The box was so heavy they could scarcely budge it.
“The treasure at last!” came from all of the boys.
“Putty heavy, no mistake about that,” was John Barrow’s comment. “If it’s silver it’s wuth considerable!”
“We must get it out somehow,” said Dick, who was as excited as anyone. “Let’s get the crowbar under it.”
This suggestion was carried out, and after a good deal of trouble the box was brought up out of the hole. Beneath it lay an iron key, which fitted the rusty lock of the treasure casket. Soon they had the box open, and all gazed intently inside.
“Gold and silver!” shouted Tom. “See, the gold is on top, and looks as if it had been put in some time after the silver. Wonder what the stuff is worth?”
“Some thousand dollars, that’s sure,” said Dick.
Now that the treasure was found the boys scarcely knew what to do with it. Then the guide came forward with a suggestion.
“We’ll hide it in the snow for the present. Then the Baxter crowd won’t know where it is. The empty hole will throw ‘em off the scent.”
A nearby place was readily found, and into this the box was placed and the snow was thrown loosely over it. This accomplished, they started back for the camp with all possible speed.
It was a long tramp, and although he did his best Sam lagged behind.
“You go on, don’t mind me,” said the youngest Rover. “Only keep them from running off with our goods.”
It was a good half hour before the camp was reached. When they came in sight of the spot it looked deserted.
“We may as well go slow,” cautioned John Barrow. “There may be some sort of a trap set for us.”
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