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

by F. S. Brereton

  CHAPTER XVII

  SPIED UPON

  "What do we want to go in there for?" asked Jack, at length.

  "Because," was the rather short answer of Tom. Then, feeling perhapsthat he might explain a little more at length, he turned from where hestood in the tumbled-down doorway, and added:

  "Let's get in out of the storm. This is a good place to rest, away fromthat cutting wind. Quiet, Towser," he added, for the dog showed signsof not wanting to go in. He growled and hung back. Then he looked inthe direction in which they had come, and his hair rose on the back ofhis neck as though he saw something the boys did not see, and resentedthe sight--whatever it was.

  "I don't like that," commented Bert. "Dogs know more than wedo--sometimes."

  "Oh, come on in!" repeated Tom, and he spoke to the dog again. Thistime Towser followed his temporary master inside the hut.

  "But what gets me is _why_ are we going in?" objected George. "It willonly delay us, and if we've got to make seven miles to Ramsen to-night,we'd better be getting at it."

  "That's just it," spoke Tom quickly. "I think we can't get at it."

  "What do you mean?" came from Jack.

  "I mean that we can't go on in this storm. It's getting worse everyminute, and we may stray off the road. We have found this shelterprovidentially, and we ought to take advantage of it. It will give us ahalf-decent place to stay, and we won't be buried in the snow which mayhappen if we keep on.

  "Come inside and stay here, that's what I mean," Tom went on. "It mightbe a heap-sight worse," and he flashed his torch about the bare andcrumbling ruin of the cabin.

  "What!" cried Bert. "Do you mean to stay here all night?"

  "Why not?" asked Tom. "It's better than being out in the storm, isn'tit? Hark to that wind!"

  As he spoke a blast howled around the corner of the shack, and blew acloud of flakes in through a glassless window.

  "It's a little better than outside--but not much," murmured George."Look at those windows."

  "We can find something to stuff in them," said Tom cheerfully. "Theremay be some old bags about. And we haven't been upstairs yet. Thisplace may be furnished better than we think. Come on, boys, make upyour minds to stay here."

  "Well, we might do worse, that's a fact," slowly admitted Jack. "Say,look at that dog, would you!"

  His manner, as he said this, was excited, but no less so than that ofthe dog. The animal brushed past the group of boys, fairly pullingloose the improvised leash from Tom's hand and stood in the doorwaywith bristling hair, lips drawn back from his teeth and showing everyappearance of anger.

  "Something ails him," spoke George, in a low voice.

  "I should say so," agreed Tom, rubbing his hand where the stout cordhad cut into him, even in spite of his heavy mitten.

  "It's that bear!" cried Jack.

  "What?" questioned Tom.

  "That bear we were following," explained Jack. "It's outside now, andthe dog has winded him. Where's my gun? I'm going to have a potshot athim!"

  He started toward the corner where he had stood up his gun. Theinterior of the cabin was fairly light, for Tom had snapped on thepermanent switch of his little pocket electric light.

  "Hold on a minute!" Tom said, placing a hand on his chum's shoulder."What are you going to do?"

  "Don't go out," advised Tom. "I don't believe it's the bear, to beginwith, and, in the second place, if it _is_, you wouldn't stand anychance of hitting him in this storm. And you might get lost. It's aregular blizzard outside."

  "What makes you think it isn't the bear?" asked Jack, ignoring Tom'sother reasons.

  "Well, from the way the dog acts, for one thing," was the answer. "Hedidn't act that way before, when we had a plain sight of the trail, andTowser may even have come close to Bruin himself."

  "If it isn't the bear--who is it--or--what is it?" demanded George.

  "I don't know," was Tom's frank reply.

  "Let's give a yell," suggested Bert. "Maybe it's Sam Wilson, or someonewho could put us on the right road. I don't fancy staying here allnight if it can be helped. Let's give a yell."

  "All right," Tom agreed. "Here, Towser," he went on to the dog, "comein here and behave yourself."

  But the animal did not seem so disposed. He remained in the doorway,looking out into the storm, now and then growling hoarsely in histhroat, but showing no disposition to dash out. Certainly he wasacting very strangely, but whether it was fear or anger the boys couldnot decide.

  "Well, whoever it is, or whatever, we've got plenty of guns andammunition," remarked George. "We haven't had a decent shot to-day."

  Which was very true. They had had great hopes, but that was all.

  "Come on if we're going to yell," suggested Jack. "And if we don'traise someone, we'll prepare to stay here. It's the best we can do,fellows."

  They united their voices in a shout, and the dog added to the din bybarking. He seemed to feel better when the lads were making as muchnoise as they could.

  But the echoes of the boys' voices, blown back to them by thesnow-laden wind, was all the answer they received. They waited, andcalled again, but no one replied to them. Nor, as at least Georgehalf-expected, did they hear the growls of a bear. The wind howled, thesnow rattled on the sides and roof of the cabin, for the flakes werealmost as hard as sleet. But that was all.

  "Guess we'll have to put up at this 'hotel,'" said Bert, after a pause.The dog had quieted down now, as though whatever had aroused him hadpassed on.

  "Let's take a look around and see what we've drawn," suggested Jack."If there's any wood, we can make a fire, and there must be some ofthat grub left."

  "There is," announced Bert, who had constituted himself a sort ofcommissary department. "We've got some sandwiches, and I can makecoffee."

  "That isn't so bad," remarked Tom. "Once we have a little feed, we'llall feel better. And in the morning the storm may have stopped, so wecan easily find our road. We're on the right one, I'm sure, for thatsignboard said seven miles to Ramsen, and that's in the direction ofCamp No. 3."

  If Tom had only known about that changed signboard!

  Each of the lads carried a powerful electric light, with a tungstenbulb. It was operated by a small, dry battery. It was intended only fora flashing light, of a second or so each time, but there was a switcharrangement so that the light could be held steady and permanent,though of course this used up the battery quickly.

  "I'll let my light burn," proposed Tom. "It's nearly burned out anyhow,and you fellows can save yours until later."

  "If we could have a fire, we wouldn't need a light," Bert said.

  "That's right," agreed Tom. "Let's look about a bit."

  There was a hearth in the main room of the deserted cabin, and on itwere the ashes of a fire, long since dead and cold. But it seemed toshow that the chimney would draw. Scattered about the room were piecesof old boxes and barrel staves, and a pile of these was soon set ablazeon the hearth.

  "That looks better!" remarked Bert, with satisfaction, as he rubbed hishands in front of the blaze. "Now if we had a way of stopping up someof these broken windows, we wouldn't be so cold."

  "Take some of those bags," suggested Tom, indicating a pile in acorner. It looked like the bed of some chance tramp who had acceptedthe shelter the deserted shack offered.

  The boys soon had the broken lights filled in, and when the tumble-downdoor had been propped up in the entrance, the cabin was not such a badshelter, with a blazing fire going.

  "Now for a look upstairs," suggested Tom, for the cabin was of twostories, though the top one was very low.

  "I'd rather eat," suggested George.

  "It won't take long to investigate," Tom said.

  They went up the rickety stairs, but the trip hardly paid for theirpains, for there was less upstairs than there was down. Some few rags,bits of broken bottles, boxes and barrels were seen, and that was all.

  "And now for grub!" cried George, when they were once more in the mainroom downstairs. "Let's
get that coffee going, and eat what there is."

  The boys carried a coffee-pot with them, and a supply of the groundberries. Some snow was scooped up in the pot, which was set on thecoals to provide the necessary water by melting the white crystals.Then the packages of sandwiches, rather depleted, it is true, were setout. A little later the aroma of the boiling beverage filled the room.

  "That smells fine!" murmured Jack.

  "It surely does," agreed Bert. "Now for a feed."

  They all felt better after they had eaten what food was left fromlunch. And surely they needed the grateful and stimulating warmth ofthe coffee, even though it was rather muddy, and was drunk out of tincups they carried with them. They even had condensed milk and sugar,for these were carried in a case, in which fitted the pot and theground coffee. This was one of Tom's up-to-date discoveries.

  To Towser were tossed the odds and ends of the sandwiches, and he atethem greedily, drinking some snow water which George melted for him ina tin he found in one corner of the cabin.

  Then the boys prepared to spend the night in the deserted cabin. Theysat about the fire, on improvised seats made from broken boxes, andwatched the fire, which certainly was cheerful. They expected to onlydoze through the night, and hoped to get on the proper road by morning.

  Suddenly the dog, which had been peacefully lying in front of thehearth, sprang up with a growl and bark. He startled the boys.

  "Quiet!" commanded Tom, but the animal continued to growl.

  "That's funny," remarked Jack.

  "What is?" asked Tom. "Just because he barks on account of hearingsomething, or scenting something, that's beyond us?"

  "No, not that so much, but it's a funny feeling I have," said Jack. "Ifeel just as if we were being spied upon."

  "Spied upon!" repeated Tom. "Say, you're as nervous as a girl, old man!"

  Before Jack could reply, the dog had leaped up and rushed out intothe storm through a small opening where the old door was only proppedagainst the frame.