Bart Keene's Hunting Days Part 19

"How are you coming on?" asked Bart "Are you stocking up for fear of a blizzard, Frank?"

Then the comical side of the situation struck the volunteer cook, and he, too, joined in the fun.

"It's funny how this thing came out," said Frank, with a dubious air.

"First the batter was too thick, and then, when I put more water in, it was too thin. Then I had too much, and I had to empty some of it out.

Then I did the same thing over again, and had to keep on emptying. I never could seem to get it right, and I've used up nearly a sack of flour. I put the flavoring in, too."

"Flavoring? What flavoring?" asked Fenn quickly.

"Cocoanut, I guess it was. I found it in a cocoanut box, anyhow."

"I never heard of cocoanut flavoring in pancakes," said Fenn dubiously, "but maybe it's all right. But I'll show you how to mix 'em, Frank.

We'll just put two or three dishes of this batter together in the pan, add a little more flour, and some salt, and it'll be ready to bake,"

and, as he talked Fenn soon beat up the batter to the right consistency, for he had a knack of cooking. Then a frying pan was put on the stove, for they had brought along no regular griddle, it was greased, and Frank, who insisted on doing the rest, was allowed to pour out the batter, and do the turning. This part he managed fairly well, and soon he had a big plate full of nicely-browned cakes.

"Seems to me they smell sort of funny," remarked Ned, as he sat down to the table, and helped himself liberally.

"Oh, that's only your imagination," declared Frank. "They're all right.

Eat hearty, fellows, there's lots of 'em." There was--enough for a squad.

Fenn poured out a liberal amount of maple syrup on his pile of cakes. He put a generous piece of the top brown one in his mouth. The next minute he uttered a yell, and made rush for the outside of the tent.

"Wow! Oh!" he cried on his way.

"Why, what's the matter?" asked Frank, as Fenn hastily drank several gla.s.ses of water on his return.

"What did you say you flavored those cakes with?" demanded the stout youth, while Bart and Ned paused, with their forks half raised to their mouths.

"Cocoanut," answered Frank.

"Soap powder, you mean!" exclaimed Fenn, as he made a dash for the box that served as a cupboard, and took out a pasteboard package that had contained cocoanut. "I put soap powder in this to have handy when I washed the dishes," explained the fleshy youth, "and you flavored the cakes with it, Frank. Wow! Wow!"

"Oh punk!" groaned Bart, as he pushed his plate away from him, "and I was counting on griddle cakes!"

Frank cautiously smelled of the pile of cakes on his plate.

"Guess you're right," he admitted dubiously. "I'm sorry fellows, but my pancakes are a failure."

CHAPTER XVII

TREED BY A WILDCAT

They made the best of it, laughing and joking, and the meal was finished on some victuals that remained from the day before. Frank was inclined to blame himself, and, after that, Fenn, because the latter had put the soap powder into the cocoanut box, but the amateur cook's chums were good-natured over his failure, and comforted him with the proverb "accidents will happen in the best of regulated camps."

The weather the following day turned out unexpectedly warm, and, as Bart, Fenn and Ned elected to remain in camp, and straighten it out somewhat, besides cleaning their guns, and mending some torn clothes, Frank said:

"Guess I'll go off, and try my luck, if you fellows don't mind. Maybe I can bag something."

"Going alone?" asked Bart, looking up from his rifle, which he had taken apart. "If you wait until after dinner I'll go along."

"I don't mind going alone," was Frank's rejoinder, and this was true, for, however good a chum he might be to the other lads, he was rather an odd chap, and frequently went off on solitary strolls. His friends were used to this, and did not mind.

"Aren't you going to take a rifle?" asked Ned. "You might see some big game."

"Guess not. I'm after birds. You fellows have scared off all the deers and bears," and, with a light shotgun over his shoulder Frank set out.

It was lonesome enough in the woods, after leaving the winter camp, to suit almost any one who was fond of solitude, and Frank really rejoiced in the calm and quietness all about him. The only sound was the occasional flutter of a bird in the branches, or the soft, slus.h.i.+ng noise made by snow toppling from the trees to the ground.

Frank walked on, his eyes alert for a sign of any game that would restock the camp larder, but, for a long time he saw nothing. He had covered about three miles, and was beginning to think that he would have his trip in vain, when, as he went down into a little gully, where the snow lay rather deeper than on the level, he heard a noise, and saw a movement in the underbrush.

"There's something!" he exclaimed half aloud, and he swung his gun around. "Now let's see what sort of a shot I am."

He advanced cautiously, thinking he might flush a covey of birds. But the sound was not repeated, and, look as he did, Frank could see nothing. With ready gun, and eyes that gazed eagerly forward, he kept on, making as little noise as possible.

Suddenly he heard a yelping bark, followed by a shrill cry of agony, and there was a great commotion in a clump of bushes about a hundred feet directly in front of him. Some animal or animals were evidently thres.h.i.+ng about in the underbrush.

"A dog! It's a dog, and something has caught it!" exclaimed Frank.

"Maybe it's a bear! I wish I had my rifle!"

He had no thought of turning back, even though he had but a light shotgun. The commotion increased, the yelping and barking finally dying out, to be succeeded by a low moan, and then there was a silence, and Frank could hear the crunching of bones.

"Poor dead beast," he murmured. "Maybe I can get a pop at the other creature; and if I get close enough, and put two charges of shot into it at short range, and in the right spot, I may kill it. I'm going to try, anyhow." He little knew the danger he was running, for he had had, as yet, no view of the creature upon which he was creeping.

As he walked forward he stepped on a dead branch, concealed by the snow, and it broke with his weight, a sharp snap sounding in the still forest. Instantly the crunching of bones ceased, there was a slight movement where the fight had taken place, and a savage growl resounded.

"I'm in for it now," mused Frank. "I've got to see it through. I can't run, but I don't like that growl."

He stood still for a moment, hoping the beast would show itself. Then he advanced a few more steps.

As he got to one side of the concealing bushes he saw a curious sight. A big, lithe, tawny creature, with ears laid back, and with flas.h.i.+ng eyes, was crouched down over some smaller animal, savagely regarding the boy.

It had been rending and tearing the smaller creature, and, at a glance Frank saw that it was a fox. It had been the whines and barking of the fox that he had heard, and the groans had come when death followed the stroke of the sharp claws of the wildcat, for it was that savage and tawny beast that now glared at Frank--a wildcat disturbed at its meal.

Frank saw before him one of the tragedies of the forest. The fox had been preying on a wild turkey, as was evidenced by the half-consumed carca.s.s, and the feathers scattered all about. Then along had come the wildcat, intent on a meal, had crept upon the feasting fox, had leaped down from a tree, and, with the quickness of light, had given the death stroke. Now Frank had come, the fourth factor in the woodland tragedy.

For a moment the lad stood regarding the savage creature, whose blazing eyes never left his face. Then, as cautiously as he could, Frank brought his gun to bear. Oh, how he wished he had his rifle now, for well he knew that more than a charge of small shot was needed to kill the big cat.

"But if I can give her both barrels at once, right in the eyes, maybe it will do for her," he mused quickly.

Once more came the menacing growl, and the cat crouched for a spring.

From her jaws dripped foam and blood. Frank raised his gun, and took quick aim. He pulled both triggers together, and the recoil nearly sent him over backwards. But he recovered his balance with an effort, and gazed through the smoke at the crouching creature.

To his horror, instead of seeing her stretched out dead, or writhing in the final struggle, the lad saw the big, tawny body bounding over the snow toward him. On she came, growling and snarling, and Frank saw that he had fired too high, and that with the small shot he had only succeeded in slightly wounding the wildcat on top of the head. The creature's eyes had escaped, and, now with the yellow orbs blazing with deadly hate and anger, she leaped forward as though to serve the lad as she had served the fox.

"Can I get in another shot?" thought Frank. He "broke" his breach-loader, the empty sh.e.l.ls flew out, and his hand sought his belt, to slip in two fresh cartridges.