Tom Fairfield's Hunting Trip; or, Lost in the Wilderness

by F. S. Brereton

  CHAPTER XII

  A LUCKY SHOT

  "Well, we're not going to stay in all the rest of the day, are we?"asked Jack Fitch, pushing back his chair from the table.

  "I should say not!" exclaimed Bert. "There's plenty of time yet to goout and bag a deer or two."

  "Nothing small about you," chuckled Tom, as he looked to hisammunition. "But I agree that there's no use wasting time indoors. Itdoes look like a storm, so we won't go too far away from the cabin."

  "Are we going to stay here to-night?" asked George.

  "Sure," remarked Tom. "It's too far to tramp back to No. 1 Camp. Thisis just as well stocked up, and as there are plenty of bedclothes here,and lots of wood, we don't care how cold it gets outside."

  They had finished their meal, and it was now early in the afternoon. Itwould soon be dark, however, for in December the days are very short.But, as Jack had said, the few remaining hours of daylight need not bewasted, and as yet the boys had not bagged any big game.

  "It's too dark for photographs," suggested George, as he saw Bertgetting out his camera.

  "Not if I make a few as soon as I get out," was the answer. "I want toget some views around this camp."

  A close search through the cabin had not revealed that Skeel and hiscompanions had entered. The boys felt sure it was those men who hadmade the tracks in the snow about the little building. But, if they hadentered, nothing had been unduly disturbed.

  "I wish I knew what their game was," spoke Jack, as he shouldered hisgun and followed Tom and the others outside.

  "It _is_ sort of a puzzle," our hero agreed. "We'll have to take a walkover to Hounson's some day this week, and see what we can learn. Ifthose fellows think they can trespass all over these camps it's time wetold Sam Wilson. He'll send them flying, I'll wager!"

  "That's right!" declared Bert.

  The boys followed a trail through the woods. Their friend, the guideand caretaker of the camps, had told them about it, advising them tofollow it, as they might see some game along it. This they were nowhoping for, keeping a bright lookout in every direction.

  As they tramped along, the sudden rattle of a dried bush on the rightof Tom attracted his attention. He looked in time to see a white streakdarting along.

  "A rabbit!" he cried and fired on the instant.

  "Missed!" yelled Bert, as the echoes of the shot died away.

  "No, I didn't!" cried Tom. "You'll find him behind that stump."

  And, surely enough, when the other boys looked, there was the rabbitneatly bagged. He was needed for food, too, for they had no fresh meatat this camp, and already they were beginning to tire of the cannedvariety.

  Except for the determination to each bring back a deer's head, and thepelt of a bear, our four boy hunters had made up their minds not to bewanton shots. They wanted to get enough game for food, and the head andskin for relics, after using such of the meat as they needed of thebear and deer.

  "Of course we four can't eat all that meat in the short while we'll bein the woods," Tom said, "but we can give it to Sam, so it won't bewasted."

  Tom and his chums had the right idea of hunting, and had no desire toslaughter for the mere savage joy of killing.

  "Another rabbit and a few partridges and we'll have enough to keep thekitchen going the rest of the week," Bert said, as Tom put the bunny inhis bag. "Then all we'll have to look for will be a bear or a deer."

  But even small game was scarce, it seemed, and though several shotswere tried at rabbits at a distance, and though some partridges wereflushed, no further luck resulted.

  It was growing dusk when Tom suggested that they had better return tocamp, and they retraced their steps. However, the rabbit was a largeone, and, made into either a stew or potpie, would provide the maindish for their next day's dinner.

  Early in the morning the boys were on the move again. They huntedaround the cabin, planning to come back to it at noon for the hotrabbit dinner, and this they did.

  The only luck they had was that Bert and George got some finephotographs. But not a rabbit nor a bird fell to their guns that day.Tom scared up a fox, and took several shots at it, hoping he mightcarry home the skin. But if Reynard were hit he showed no signs of it,and went bounding on through the woods.

  "We'll make a regular hunt of it to-morrow," decided Tom, as they satabout the cheerful fire in the cabin that night. "We'll get an earlystart, take our lunch, a pot to make some coffee over an open fire,and we won't come back until dark."

  "That's the talk!" cried Bert.

  "This is the best hunting ground, according to what Sam said," Tom wenton, "and we want to put in our best licks here. So we'll take a wholeday to it, and go as far as we can, working north, I think, as thewoods seem to be thicker there."

  This met with the approval of the others, and they started out the nextmorning, equipped for staying several hours in the open. They set outon a new trail, one they had not traveled before, but they had not gonefar on it before Tom, who was in the lead, came to a sudden halt, anduttered an exclamation of surprise.

  "What's the matter?" called Jack, who was directly behind him. "Seesome bear tracks?"

  "No, these are Skeel tracks, I should say. Those fellows must be justahead of us, for the marks seem quite fresh."

  Tom pointed to some impressions in the snow. Among them were footprintsshowing that same star mark in hob nails.

  "I wonder why they're trailing and following us?" remarked Bert. "Itcan't be just for fun."

  "Maybe they don't know where to look for game, and are depending onus," suggested George.

  "That might be so," agreed Tom. "But I wish they'd show their hands,and not keep us guessing all the while. It's getting on my nerves."

  "Well, we'll keep a lookout for 'em now," suggested Bert, "and if wesee 'em, we'll give 'em a bit of our minds."

  "Yes, and I'm going to ask Sam Wilson to tell 'em to go," added Tom."They haven't any right here. They may be scaring all the game away,and besides, it's risky. They may get in the way of our guns, or wecome too close to theirs, though I haven't seen them with either arifle or a shotgun yet."

  "No they don't seem to be hunting, but if they aren't, what in theworld are they up here for?" asked Bert.

  "That's what gets me," remarked Jack. "Well, come on. Time's toovaluable to waste in chinning."

  Once more they took up the trail. The footsteps of the three men, ontheir mysterious errand, crossed the path of our friends at an angle,and they did not think it wise to follow the marks of the hob nails.

  Luck seemed to be better to-day, from the very start, for, before theyhad gone three miles, they had bagged two rabbits, three squirrels andJack had a partridge to his credit.

  "Enough to keep us from starving," he said. "Now for bigger game--adeer, at least."

  "I'd like to get a good deer picture," announced Bert, looking to seethat his camera was in working order.

  A little later the four boys stood in a small clearing in the woods,wondering which way to go next, for, so far, they had seen no signs ofeither bear or deer. They hoped it was not so late in the season thatall the bears would be enjoying their winter sleep.

  Suddenly there was a slight noise over in the underbrush to the left ofthe clearing.

  "I'm going to see what that is!" cried Bert, starting forward with hiscamera.

  "Probably nothing but a rabbit," said Jack. "And we've got enough ofthe bunnies."

  "Then I'll take a snapshot; that won't hurt," Bert responded.

  The others, not much interested, watched him. Softly he went forward,hoping he might get a picture of a rabbit in its native woodland. Thesun was just right for a picture.

  But, as Bert looked, a deer suddenly came out of the brush, and stoodon the edge of the clearing, seemingly unconscious of the presence ofthe boys. They had seen the beautiful creature, however, and for themoment none of them raised his rifle. Bert's, indeed, was slung on hisback out of the way while he used his camera.

  Without speaking,
Bert motioned to his chums not to shoot until he hada chance to make a picture. Tom and the others signified that theywould hold their fire.

  Bert crept up, the deer still unconscious of the presence of itsenemies, and the youth soon had the animal in focus. It looked asthough it would be a fine photograph.

  Suddenly there was another crashing sound in the bushes, and as theboys, startled, turned, they saw a larger deer, with sharp, branchingantlers, step from cover just behind Bert. The latter was so intent ongetting the photograph that he did not turn to see how he was menacedfrom the rear.

  The male deer, with a snort and a stamping of hoofs, and with loweredhead, leaped toward Bert. The animal, evidently thinking its mate indanger, was going to her defense.

  "Look out, Bert!" cried Jack, but the warning would have come too late.Bert did not even turn around, for he was on the point of pressing theshutter release of his camera. He had noticed a slight movement on thepart of the female deer that indicated she was about to leap into thebushes.

  "There, I've got you!" cried Bert, as he pressed the bulb.

  The next instant he was startled by a snort behind him. He heard arattle of hoofs, and the voices of his chums crying a warning.

  Bert turned to run, but he would not have been in time, except for whathappened. A lucky shot on the part of Tom probably saved his friendfrom severe injury, if not death.

  With a sudden motion Tom threw his rifle to his shoulder, took quickaim, and fired.

  The male deer went down in a heap, actually turning a somersault, sogreat was its speed. And it came to rest, breathing its last, almost atBert's feet.