The Outdoor Chums In The Forest Part 8

Andy completely ignored the others. Not that they cared in the least, for of old there had been war to the knife between this big fellow and the members of the Rod, Gun and Camera Club. They could not easily forget how vindictive he had ever been in his pursuit of the four chums.

He wheeled, and walked away, leaving the campers staring after him. So he presently vanished from their vision, heading back toward the "tote"

road.

"Well," said Will, with a little laugh, "what d'ye think of that?"

"I say it's good of him to go to the trouble to warn us. He didn't know that we had any idea those fellows were up here, and he came in good faith, meaning to save us from being caught napping," said Jerry stoutly.

"Oh, that's all right, Jerry. I admit that Andy is trying to walk the straight path, and that all his success, so far, is due to you. But what do you think he is doing up here?" demanded Bluff.

"I don't know; and, more than that, I don't believe it's any of my business," returned Jerry promptly and significantly.

"Meaning that it isn't any of mine, either. Granted, for the sake of argument, but all the same I can't help wondering."

"Yes, that's the lawyer of it, always wanting to know. Perhaps he just felt like taking a walk," jeered Jerry.

"More than likely he's on his way across the Sunset Mountains to Chester, looking for a job. I understand from the map that there's a good road all the way over," said Frank, always ready to soothe the two belligerents.

"Well, in that case, I hope he gets a good one. You mark my words, fellows, that Andy Lasher is going to come out all right yet," declared Jerry.

"It seemed to me he didn't like to see us up here," remarked Will.

"Well, now, that was my idea, too, though I don't know why he should feel that way about it. These mountains are free to all. A few trappers spend their winters up here, Jesse Wilc.o.x among them, sometimes, but I guess our camping for two weeks isn't going to interfere with anybody's enjoyment," laughed Frank.

"Except the ghost's," remarked Bluff soberly, at which all laughed.

They were seated about in various att.i.tudes a short time later. Will, as usual, busied himself with his camera, which he was never weary of handling. Bluff had started to oil his precious repeating gun for the third time since leaving town, just as if he expected the dampness to play havoc with its shooting powers. Frank was writing something in his diary, for he made it a practice to keep a log of each outing, which had proved a great pleasure to all the members of the club during the long winter evenings, when they were snow-bound at home.

Jerry was talking in a low tone with the fugitive bound boy, on the other side of the fire, and drawing out some little facts in connection with his life that seemed to interest him intensely.

It looked like a wonderfully peaceful scene. The fire blazed cheerily, sending up tongues of flame. At times the night air wafted the smoke back into the crevice among the rocks close at hand, which the boys had noticed, and intended to explore in the morning.

Suddenly, without a breath of warning, all this was changed as if by the wand of a magician. There was a horrible roar, that thrilled the campers, and a great black body came wallowing out from the crevice in the rocks, plunging headlong into the fire, which was scattered hither and thither by the furious attack.

"A bear!" shouted Frank, as he rolled over out of the way.

CHAPTER VIII

EVERYTHING SEEMS TO COME THEIR WAY

"I told you so!" shouted Bluff, as he fell over in his eagerness to get up.

"Somebody shoot him!" bellowed Jerry, who was directly in the path of the bear, if the rolling monster concluded to keep on after he had extinguished the several little fires in his hairy hide.

Frank had a method in his activity in rolling away from the danger zone.

He remembered that he had placed his gun at the foot of the tree that had the gnarly trunk, and in a case of this sort the quicker a fellow laid hands on some means of defense the better.

Now Bruin was once more upon his feet, having succeeded in putting out the few sparks that had threatened to set him on fire, so that if he ran through the forest he must have resembled an animated torch.

Bang!

That was surely the voice of the repeating gun. Bluff had had it in his hands at the time the bear, angered by the constant inrush of bitter smoke, had dashed from his den, among the blazing f.a.gots.

[Ill.u.s.tration: BANG! THAT WAS SURELY THE VOICE OF THE REPEATING GUN.]

It had taken Bluff just about five seconds to get himself together and raise his gun to a level with the struggling black form among the scattered brands of the disturbed fire.

"Whoop! Give him some more, _you_!" shouted Jerry, peering over the top of the log behind which he had now taken refuge.

Bang!

That shot came from another quarter. Frank did not mean to be left out in the cold entirely, apparently.

Then Bluff took up the refrain again, which was an invitation for Frank to make use of his second barrel. By that time the bear had ceased making any attempt at escape, and was lying, inert, on the ground. Four charges, even of bird shot, when fired only ten feet away, at the most, can do the execution of as many bullets of large caliber.

"Well done, fellows! I congratulate the brave Nimrods!" vociferated Jerry, coming out from his place of refuge and waving his cap in the air.

Snap! Will had made another flash picture.

"Wouldn't have lost that one for a good deal, I tell you," he said.

Jerry, in his demonstrative way, went around shaking hands with every one, even little Jed, who had been petrified with horror during the entire proceedings, and could only stare at what was pa.s.sing.

"Talk about your luck! What d'ye think of that? Meat just drops into our hands as we sit around our campfire. Tell me about your Israelites in the desert, and the manna that they picked up--we don't even have to move to get a full larder."

"Well, bear's meat may please some, but it's pretty tough," commented Will.

"Come off, you practical man! Where's your sporting blood? Think of the delight of sitting here and chewing on meat that fell to your gun. What odds if it is as tough as an old cow? It's _game_! That ought to settle it. Imagination can make even bear meat seem as tender as spring lamb,"

declared Jerry.

"And there's the skin. That will make a bully old rug for my den!"

exclaimed Bluff, looking boldly at Frank, as though challenging him to dispute his claim.

"You're welcome to it, seeing that I have several already, but I'm afraid you'll find it a pretty poor specimen at this season of the year. The pelts are never good for much until fall sets in. The beast has hardly stopped shedding last winter's coat of hair," laughed Frank.

"Well, that _was_ a bear's den, after all! We didn't go far wrong, did we? And as for me, I'm itching to investigate it right away. Frank, let's get a few torches together and crawl in. Will you?"

Jerry was as eager as ever to examine things. He could not wait until morning came, now that a bear had actually issued forth from the crevice in the rocks.

"There may be another in there," suggested Bluff meaningly.

"All right, then. Something is due to fall to my gun, I guess. Don't you think for a minute that everything is going to come your way. Better save your wind for blowing up your bed a little later. You'll probably need it all," remarked Jerry, who had been sore ever since the preceding night, when his rival had come in just a trifle ahead in the great wind act.

Frank hesitated. He knew it was hardly wise to creep into that crack in the rocks so soon after the bear had issued forth; for if there was a mate inside, doubtless they would have a severe conflict.