Part 9

Presently the trail brought them to a stretch of rocky ground from which most of the snow had melted. Tracking became more difficult, and they finally lost the trail. They seated themselves on a boulder and spoke in uncomplimentary terms of the animal that had enticed them all that distance, to leave them baffled on a desolate rock-strewn hillside.

“There’s only one thing to do,” said Ed, as he placed the compass on a flat rock.

“What?” demanded George.

“Why, go to the edge of this rocky strip and work around it till we strike his tracks in the snow along its border. He must have gone out somewhere; and if he didn’t, we know he’s hiding in here among some of these rocks.”

“That’s a good idea; we’ll try it,” George agreed.

“Look at the rabbit; there it goes!” cried Ed, and he hurried toward a big rock, George stumbling along behind him.

There were many scattered boulders, all very similar in appearance. When the boys reached the one where they thought the rabbit was hiding they saw the little creature jump from behind a rock farther on and go leaping away into a wooded ravine.

“We’ll get him, just for luck,” cried George; and, holding his shotgun ready, he led the way down into the swale where the rabbit had disappeared.

They ran upon a covey of grouse, and George killed one on the first rise. Highly elated, they followed the birds. The next time they thundered into flight, Ed, who had taken the shotgun, shot another.

“This beats tracking foxes and rabbits,” declared George.

Urged on by their enthusiasm, the boys rashly entered the confines of an unknown swamp into which the covey had flown. Another rise, and a miss. Then two of the birds flew into a tree and perched with their necks stretched, motionless as the limb on which they stood. It was a chance for Ed with his rifle, and he killed one by shooting off its head. George got the other with the shotgun as it flew from the branch.

Well satisfied with their luck, they continued into the swamp; but, though they hunted everywhere, they were unable to find the balance of the covey. In their search they twisted and turned in an uncertain course, until they arrived in the very center of a marshy strip where they had left no trail.

“I never thought of taking the direction when we came in here,” said Ed, suddenly feeling in his pocket for the compass. He stopped, and a look of alarm flashed into his face.

“What’s the matter?” asked George.

“I’ve left the compass back on the rock.”

For a moment neither spoke, though each was doing a large amount of thinking. The seriousness of the situation dawned upon them, and they realized that they must think calmly, and not become frightened and confused.

“That’s all right,” laughed George; “we’ll get out of here and go back and look for it.” And he started splashing his way through the marsh.

“Hold on!” commanded Ed. “Which side did we come in at? You know we’ve done a lot of turning and changing of direction, and I’m a bit mixed.”

“I’m not. Come on, I’ll show you exactly where we came in. It’s right over here a little ways,” declared George, confidently.

Ed followed him with many misgivings. They waded through cold, ice-coated pools, stumbled over great fallen logs, tore their way through thorny thickets, and with all their exertions only seemed to get deeper into the swamp.

“We’re wrong,” declared Ed, when they had gone some distance in that uncertain manner. “If we had been traveling in the proper direction we’d have come to the base of that rocky hillside long ago.”

“I guess you’re right; seems to me we’ve walked a mile or more, and still there’s no sign of our getting out.”

“Well, there’s no use rushing about this way,” said Ed, glancing at his watch. “It’s past noon now; here is a little spring; let’s sit down beside it and eat our lunch and try to figure where we are.”

They sat down and brought out the lunch. Somehow the idea of their imprisonment in this big, dimly lighted place affected their appetites, and neither ate much. To make matters worse, the sun disappeared behind a mass of cold, gray clouds, and a chill wind gave promise of snow.

“Come on, let’s get out of here; we can eat when we get home,” urged George, springing to his feet and starting off.

“Won’t you wait a second?” Ed called after him, a bit impatiently. “There is only one way to get out of here quickly, and that is for us to try and think which side we came in. We’ve been getting deeper into this mess, and if we just rush around we’ll be lost more than ever.”

“Right you are, Ed,” agreed George, for he readily saw the wisdom of this. “We’ll sit down again and try to remember how we got here.”

They sat for a long time endeavoring to trace their journey back, step by step, to the place where they had first entered the swamp. At last they agreed on a general direction, and, rising, they started off.

“We’ll keep walking until we come to the edge of it, no matter which side we come out on,” declared Ed, after they had toiled along for some distance.

Then it began to snow, and with the falling of the first flakes the spirits of the boys began to sink. They realized that the new fall would obliterate their back-track. With no compass to guide them, and their old trail gone, they felt that their chance of reaching the cabin was slim indeed. As the snow came down thicker and faster, they redoubled their speed in response to a wild desire to get out of the swamp before the full force of the storm broke upon them.

“I guess we’re in for it,” cried Ed, as he hurried on.

“Looks bad,” George confessed, grimly.

They soon found themselves blinded and bewildered by the swirling flakes which beat in their faces. Valiantly they staggered along for some distance. Then Ed, who was leading, called a halt.

“George, we’re only tiring ourselves completely out and getting no nearer the edge of the swamp than before. I believe we’re traveling in a circle; you know they say all people do that when they become lost. I suggest that we chop down some small evergreens and build what Ben calls a lean-to for shelter until the storm blows over. We can build a fire and cook these grouse, and I’m sure that sooner or later Ben will find us. Once it stops snowing we’ll travel around and make a lot of tracks, and he’ll be pretty sure to stumble across some of them and come to us. We can’t be such a terrible distance from the lake, and by firing a few shots we may be heard at the cabin. What do you say?”

“I guess it’s about all we can do, Ed; we don’t seem to be getting any nearer home by this crazy traveling. Let’s look around for a dry place for our camp. Looks as if we’re in for an all-night job.”

Slightly farther on they came to a stretch of higher ground. And there in the shelter of a hemlock grove they decided to make camp. With the little ax they felled and trimmed several small trees, and, recalling what Ben had done, they began to fashion a lean-to. They were surprised to see what a good job they made of it; and, encouraged, they went searching about for dry wood with which to start a fire.

The lads found an old stump, and by splitting it open, they secured plenty of dry kindlings. These they carefully piled up before the shelter, and after many attempts and the loss of countless matches they finally nursed them into a tiny flame. This strengthened and grew, under their painstaking labors, into a big, cheerful, crackling fire, and soon its merry, leaping flames gave forth comfort and cheer.

“This isn’t so bad,” laughed Ed, holding his wet feet toward the blaze.

“It’s great!” replied George.

They plucked a grouse, and Ed opened and cleaned it. When it had been thoroughly washed he ran a sharpened stick through its body, and placed it before the fire. The lads had seen pictures of Indian hunters doing this, and, as they possessed no cooking utensils, they decided to try this primitive method. Being amateurs, they never thought to turn the bird, and it began to burn and crust on the side nearest the coals. Then they quickly exposed the other side to the fire, and waited impatiently for it to brown. The delicious odor instantly coaxed back the appetites which had fled at sight of the noonday meal. The grouse was no sooner done than the boys took it from the spit and divided it between them.

“How is it?” inquired Ed, between mouthfuls.

“Great!” was all George took time to reply; he was too busy to waste any time in idle words.

They still had three grouse left, besides the remains of their lunch, and had little to fear from starvation, even though the storm continued for several days and prevented Ben from finding them.

The one thing that troubled them was the knowledge that the guide would worry. They knew that with the closing of day and rising of the storm his anxiety would increase. They were fearful that their failure to appear by the time darkness descended might cause him to venture forth in search of them. If he should, they realized full well the hardships he would have to endure. It was still some time to twilight, and they were a bit undecided as to just what to do.

“He couldn’t reach us before dark, anyway,” declared Ed.

“I know; but I think we ought to shoot, just to let him know we are all right,” George argued.

“But that signal really means that we are all wrong, and it would make him come to us as soon as possible. Besides, I don’t think he could hear us in all this wind. We are all right here till morning, and then, if we can’t find our way out and the storm continues, we’ll signal.”

“Well, all right,” said George, “only remember, we have no blankets, and it’s going to be mighty cold before daylight.” And he rose to replenish the fire.

“We can take turns at sleeping. The one on watch will have to keep up a big blaze, and we can huddle close to it and pass the night without freezing,” said Ed.

They sat in the protection of their lean-to while the twilight stole slowly into the swamp and the storm raged with unabated fury. As it became darker the fire illuminated and warmed the little shelter behind it, and the boys began to understand why Ben always spoke so affectionately of his camp-fires. The fire was the one thing of cheer and light and life in all that black desolation of storm-rent wilderness. Sitting in the grateful warmth of its presence, the isolated young hunters came to look upon it as a friend, an ally, and a guardian whose very presence brought hope and cheer to their downcast hearts. They got in a fresh supply of wood, which was coated with snow. But they placed it near the flames to dry out, so that it would be ready for instant use any time in the night.

At last blackness engulfed them, and the boys huddled closer to the fire and conversed in low, guarded tones. They believed that outside in the open woods the snow must be quite deep, for even in the swamp it had piled up to a depth of many inches since the storm began. They sat idly speculating as to the proper direction to take them out of the gloomy confines into which they had blundered. George declared they could tell nothing about it until they had traveled an equal distance toward every point of the compass. Then he bade Ed go to sleep while he kept watch for two hours, when he promised to wake him.

The first hour dragged slowly away, and George caught himself nodding more than once. Ed was slumbering soundly a few feet from the fire. The storm had abated, and George hoped it would soon die out. It was lonely work sitting there by the fire with no one to speak to, and the time passed tediously. He consulted his watch constantly, and was much surprised to find that what he supposed to be a long half-hour was really only ten minutes.

Suddenly he sat up straight as the same wild baying they had heard earlier in the day echoed through the woods. This time it seemed nearer at hand, and George listened anxiously for many minutes before he decided to awaken Ed. At last, convinced that the sound was actually coming closer, he reached in and grasped the sleeper by the foot.

“What is it?” inquired Ed, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

“Listen!” whispered George. “They’re coming this way--don’t you hear them?”

“Who’s coming? Hear what?” began Ed. “Great Scott! It’s the wild dogs!” he cried, excitedly, springing to his feet and seizing his rifle.

Nearer and nearer came the wolfish pack, and louder and louder their baying rang through the woods. As nearly as the boys could judge, they were headed directly for the lean-to.

“Quick! Pile wood on the fire!” shouted Ed, throwing on several armfuls of dried twigs.

“Let’s climb a tree,” George suggested, when it seemed certain that the pack was really coming for them.

They scrambled out of the lean-to, and each sought shelter by the side of a near-by tree, ready to swing themselves up into the branches at the first sign of real danger.

“Hold to your gun and we’ll bowl a few of them over!” said Ed.

Then they heard the crashing of brush, and they pulled themselves aloft into the branches. Hardly had the lads reached their places of concealment before a large animal dashed past just beyond the light of the fire. For some moments afterward there was absolute silence. Then the excited yelps of the pursuing pack broke forth close at hand. They heard the dogs tearing madly through the undergrowth, but were unable to see them.

“They’re going by!” yelled George.

“Keep quiet!” Ed cautioned, in a lower tone.

One of the brutes either heard or scented them, for the boys saw a big, wolfish-looking animal sneak forward into the firelight. Before they could shoot, it vanished into the blackness. The savage baying gradually sounded fainter as the dogs sped away on the trail of some unfortunate victim.

“Say, that was a close call!” said Ed, soberly.

“I should say it was, and I’m not so sure we’re rid of them. I have an idea that they may come back this way,” replied George, a bit nervously.

“Well, we’ll be ready for them if they do.”

They remained in the trees for some time, and finally, when the fire began to die down, the lads slid to the ground and hastily piled on more brush. The storm had about ceased, but a piercing cold wind had come up. It moaned mournfully through the tops of the trees. All about them was inky blackness. The fire threw weird, fantastic shadows against the neighboring tree-trunks. George consulted his watch, and found the time to be an hour past midnight. An owl hooted dismally, and the boys drew near the flames.

“Isn’t this a ‘spooky’ place?” inquired George.

“All big swamps are, I imagine,” laughed Ed, trying to appear cheerful.

They remained close by the fire and talked in subdued tones. Since the visit of the wild dogs neither cared to sleep. The snow stopped and the wind increased to a gale. They heard the snap of breaking branches and the crash of falling trees in various parts of the swamp. Once they thought they heard the cries of the returning pack; but after listening intently they heard nothing more, and decided they had been mistaken.

At last daylight came, much to their relief, and the boys cleaned and cooked another grouse for breakfast. Then, as they talked over their experience of the night before, they walked to the pathway of the dogs and saw many large paw-marks in the snow.

“There must be a lot of them in that band,” declared Ed.

“Too many to be around loose; we ought to tell the dog-catchers,” laughed George.

“I’ve a hunch that we’ll have a fight with them some day,” prophesied Ed.

“Well, I hope it will come off in daylight,” said George, emphatically.

Then they sat down to plan a way out of the swamp. It was finally agreed that they would walk a certain distance, when, if they did not find the border, they would return. Then they would try the opposite direction for a like distance; and so on until they had tried every point of the compass. With the rising of the sun they were enabled to get the cardinal points of direction, and they traced them on the snow in front of the lean-to.

As George believed they had entered the swamp from the north, they started on their first trip in that direction. They found the snowfall quite deep, and knew it must be deeper in the woods outside. The lads were anxious to make their own way from the swamp if possible, and they determined not to fire the distress-signal until they had spent the morning in an effort to find themselves.

“I had no idea this swamp was so big,” declared Ed, after they had traveled for some time.

“Seems to stretch out in front of us as if it was made of elastic,” laughed George.

They halted abruptly and listened when the report of a gun broke the stillness. It was far off in the opposite direction. A minute passed, and then another shot was heard.

“Wonder if that is Ben signaling us?” said Ed.

“I rather think so. Shall we reply?”

Once again they heard the welcome sound, and, raising his rifle, Ed fired two shots in response. The boys stood listening as the reports thundered through the swamp. Then they got an answer, and uttered a delighted cheer at the prospect of early rescue.

The lads turned eagerly and hurried toward the distant signals. They continued to shoot in reply to the guiding shots. When they had gone some distance in the new direction they began to recall certain trees and marks which they had made note of the day before.

“We’re on the right track now,” George called out, cheerily, as he recognized the fallen tree-trunk where he had killed the grouse.

The shots ahead became more distinct, until they sounded loudly close before them. George, who was leading, suddenly drew back in alarm and hastily brought up his gun.

“Look out!” he warned, when a big, rangy hound came bounding toward him. “Here they are--the pack!”

Then he lowered his weapon and laughed loudly, for he recognized the “wild dog” as old Moze.

“Well, Moze, you old rascal, you certainly gave me a scare. Where on earth did you come from?” he inquired.

“You fellows are a fine lot!” sang out Bill, the veteran trapper, a moment later.

“Helloa, Bill!” cried the boys, rushing forward to grasp their friend by the hand.

They all sat down and exchanged experiences. Bill told them he had stopped at the cabin the day before to stay until the storm passed, and Ben had told him they were lost. When they failed to appear that night, the two woodsmen became much worried, but decided they could do nothing until daylight.

He and Ben had been out since the first hint of dawn. Bill complimented the lads for their good sense displayed in building the lean-to and camping for the night.

The trapper signaled Ben, and finally got an answer. Then they rose and set out for the cabin. The snow was not so deep as the boys expected to find it, and they had no difficulty in traveling through it without snowshoes.

They reached the cabin, to find Ben awaiting them with a good hot meal already prepared. The guide, like Bill, seemed much pleased with the conduct of the boys in taking care of themselves, and, much to their delight, declared them full-fledged woodsmen.

Bill and Ben sat up until late that night talking of the arrival of the wild dogs. The lads were eager listeners, and when the two old hunters declared they would run down and destroy the outlaw pack, Ed and George determined to be in the hunting party.

XIII ON THE TRAP LINE WITH BILL

Bill delighted the boys by inviting them to his cabin to spend a few weeks on the trap line. They promptly accepted. They bade Ben farewell, and cautioned him to take good care of the owl, which they had christened “Old Snowball.” Then they fastened on their snowshoes, shouldered their packs, and started off with their rifles in quest of new adventures.

They followed the trapper over several miles of trail before he called a halt for the noonday meal. He made a fire and boiled some coffee, which accompanied crisp bacon from the little frying-pan and home-made biscuits.

Then they went on. It was not long before Moze dashed away noisily on the trail of a fox. The boys were for following him. Bill laughed and told them to wait until they reached his trapping-grounds, when they would have many such chances to stretch their legs.

Toward the close of day the lads found themselves in an entirely new country. Great forests of pine, balsam, hemlock, and spruce clothed the mountains and valleys. The sullen roar of hidden waterfalls reached their ears. The stand of timber was so high and thick that perpetual twilight reigned beneath it. The air was heavy with the resinous perfume of the evergreens. The setting sun gilded the western side of massive tree-trunks, and in the golden glow they saw the outlines of a tiny cabin.

“Here we are, boys; it’s not so powerful much to brag about in the way of a building, but it wasn’t put up for show. And when you have to cut, peel, and tote the logs to make it, single handed, you don’t care to lay on more than you need,” said Bill.

“I think it’s great,” said Ed, as he slipped off his pack before the door.

“So do I,” declared George.

“Well, come in and make yourselves right to home,” the trapper invited, leading the way into a cozy little room.

There were two bunks across the room, against the rear wall, one small window with a southern exposure, and the low door through which they had entered. A round, home-made pine table and several stools completed the furniture. In a corner stood a small cook-stove. On wooden pegs driven into the logs hung the few simple cooking utensils. Two large deer-skins covered one side of the room. Over each bunk was thrown a great bear-skin robe. Many smaller furs were tacked against the log walls. In another corner was a pile of rusty traps and chains. The snug little abode was home-like and scrupulously clean, and the boys were enthusiastic.

“Well, think you can stand it for a while?” asked Bill, as he busied himself about the stove.

“You bet!” they assured him. “It’s the real thing.”

The trapper went outside to what he called his “meat-house.” The boys followed, expecting to see some sort of a building. Instead, they saw him go to a near-by tree and lower a heavy white sack. Opening it, he showed them the haunch of a deer. When he had cut sufficient meat for their immediate needs, he hoisted the balance high into the tree again, where it swung safe from animals.

Bill provided a great supper, for he declared they must be hungry after their long trip. First they had oatmeal and maple syrup; next came fried deer steak with hot biscuit and tea; and then their host won them completely by cooking all the flapjacks they could eat. Moze sat by and helped consume several platefuls, which the lads slyly slipped to him beneath the table. Finally Bill discovered the trick and shut down on it. Moze had work to do, and must not be overfed.

That night they sat near the stove, for it was bitter-cold outside, while Bill entertained them with yarns of hunting and trapping.

“Which is the hardest animal to catch?” inquired Ed.

“The fox,” Bill declared.

Then he explained how the fox cleverly overturned and sprang traps, helped himself to the bait, and went on unharmed. Bill said he had set a circle of traps around a bait, only to find each of them sprung and the bait gone when he visited the spot next morning.

He laughingly told of the time when he was a boy, and how he and a young friend had tried to bait and shoot a lynx. They took some meat to the foot of a tall hemlock-tree, near which neighbors said they had seen the lynx. It was a bright moonlight night, and the lads climbed into the tree to await their victim. They sat on a stout limb, shivering with excitement and jumping at every sound.