Bart Keene's Hunting Days: or, The Darewell Chums in a Winter Camp

CHAPTER XIX
LOST IN THE WOODS

Pausing for an instant to get his bearings, Bart dashed forward, circled around the edge of the mud volcano, and ran on in the direction he had seen the man take.

“I’m going to catch him,” thought the lad, fiercely. “I’m going to get at the bottom of this. Why does he seem to be following us – hanging around our camp? What’s he doing here? Did he take the diamond bracelet? I’m going to find out some of those things – when I catch him.” He added the last with a grim smile, for, as he went on, and the snow storm increased in fury, Bart was aware that he had no easy task before him.

The swirling white flakes were now so thick that he could hardly see five feet in advance, and he was soon made unpleasantly aware of this, for he collided, with no little force, into a tree. The shock threw him backward, and he nearly dropped his gun, but it had one good effect, for it made him pause to consider what he was doing.

“I wonder if there’s any use in me going on like this?” Bart reflected. “He’s got a good start of me, and he evidently knows these roads as well as I do. Guess I’d better go back to camp, get the fellows, and then see if I can trail him. Though if it keeps on snowing it’s not going to be easy to see his footprints. I wonder if I can hear anything of him?”

He paused in a listening attitude, but the only sounds that came to him were those of the wind howling through the leafless branches of the trees, and the swish of the snowflakes as they swirled downward. Once Bart heard a crashing amid the underbrush to one side. He darted in that direction, thinking it was the fugitive.

There came, at that instant, a lull in the storm, and, peering at the lad from under the shelter of a pine tree was the big buck, the chase of which had led to such unexpected results. Bart fired, point blank, but he saw the deer bound away, and he knew he had only wounded it slightly, if at all. He started after it, but a moment later the snow began again, more thickly than before, and everything was blotted out.

“That settles it,” murmured Bart, grimly, “back to camp for mine. No use keeping up the chase to-day.”

It was not without considerable regret that the lad retraced his steps. He wanted, very much, to get the buck, and he wanted still more to capture the mysterious man who seemed to be playing such an important part in the lives of himself and his chums.

“I’ll get the other fellows, and then we’ll see if we can’t trail him,” mused Bart, as he neared the camp.

To his delight, just before he reached it, the snow ceased falling, and he felt that now there was a chance to trace the man by means of his footsteps, for they would not be covered by the white crystals. But there was the promise of more snow, and Bart knew they had little time to spare.

“Come on, boys!” cried Bart, when he came in sight of the tents, and saw Ned and the others sweeping away the snow from the front entrances. “Come on. I’m after him!”

“Who?” demanded Frank.

“The mysterious man! Come – no time to lose!” and Bart rapidly told what he had seen.

“Wait until I get my gun, and I’ll be with you!” cried Fenn.

“Aren’t we going to have dinner first?” asked Ned.

“We’ll eat a light lunch, and take a snack with us,” proposed Frank. “We don’t want to waste too much time.”

In a little while they were ready to start, each one with a few sandwiches, while Bart, in addition, carried a small coffee pot, and a supply of the ground material for making the beverage in the woods; water could be had by melting snow over a fire they would build.

Bart led the way toward the mud volcano, the location of which was now well fixed in the minds of the boys.

“Here’s where I first sighted the deer,” Bart explained when he reached the place. “By Jinks! I wish I could have potted him, though! He was a beaut!”

“And where did you see our mysterious friend?” asked Frank.

“Not until I got to the spring. We’ll soon be up to it.”

But when they reached the spot, which, because of the warmth of the water, contained no trace of snow, though elsewhere the ground was white, there was, of course, no evidences of the man, save for blurred footprints.

“That’s right where he stood,” declared Bart, “and he went off in this direction.”

“Then it’s up to us to follow,” asserted Ned. “We can see his tracks. They’re pretty plain now, but they won’t be in a little while, for it’s going to snow more.”

They hurried on, trailing the man like officers of the law after a criminal. The footprints were plainly visible in the snow, being blurred occasionally by little drifts that had blown over them. They showed that the man had run a good part of the way, for the marks were far apart and irregular.

They had gone on for perhaps a mile, seeing no sign of their quarry, but loath to give up, when there was a sudden darkening of the atmosphere, the wind increased in violence, and then the air was again filled with flying flakes, so thick that the lads could not see ten feet ahead.

“Might as well give up now,” called Bart. “His tracks will be covered in five minutes.”

“Let’s wait a bit, and see if it stops snowing,” proposed Frank, and they did, standing in the shelter of some trees. But the white flakes showed no inclination to stop, and with something like despair in their hearts the four chums prepared to return to camp.

“And it’s about time, too,” remarked Ned, looking at his watch. “It’s after five, and it will soon be dark. Let’s eat. I’m hungry.”

“Oh, wait a while,” advised Bart. “We’ll soon be back at camp. I think I know a short cut, and then we can have a hot supper.”

“Well, go ahead,” agreed Frank. “A short cut will be just the thing. I’m tired.”

Bart started off with an air of confidence, hesitated a moment, and then plunged his hand in his pocket.

“Well, I’ll be hanged!” he burst out.

“What’s the matter?” inquired Fenn.

“My compass – I haven’t got it. Let me take one of you fellow’s.”

“I haven’t any,” said Fenn. “Left it in camp.”

“So did I,” added Frank and Ned.

“You did?” asked Bart, blankly.

There was a pause – the boys knew what it meant to be out in the woods in a snowstorm, without the little swinging needle to guide them.

“What did you do with the one you had, Bart?” asked Frank. “You had one, didn’t you, when you were out after the deer, and saw the man?”

“Sure I did, but I took it out of my pocket when I stuffed this lunch in, and must have forgotten to put it back. I remember now, I left it on the box in the tent. But I thought you fellows would sure have one.”

“Well, we haven’t,” said Frank, with an uneasy laugh. “What’s to be done?”

“Oh, I dare say we can get back – somehow,” went on Bart. “Come on, fellows. I think I know the way.”

They started off, with no light hearts, and tramped through the blinding snow, but it was with little confidence. Several times Bart stopped to get his bearings. Once he and Fenn disputed about a certain turn, and Bart so insisted that he was right, that the other two lads agreed with him. It grew darker, and they wandered into drifts, stumbled into unexpected hollows, and brought up against trees, sometimes falling over stumps. At last Bart said:

“Fellows, there’s no use going on this way any farther. I’m off the track. I shouldn’t have started out. The fact of the matter is that we’re lost in the woods, and we’ve got to make the best of it!”

CHAPTER XX
A NIGHT OF MISERY

Bart’s announcement brought looks of blank astonishment and dismay to the faces of his chums. They had so depended on him, that, to have him go back on them in this fashion, was a shock.

“Are you sure we’re lost?” asked Ned, slowly.

“No doubt of it, in my mind,” answered Bart, and he laughed a little. The strain of keeping up the pace on a route he was not at all sure of, was harder than admitting the fact of being lost in the wilderness.

“What are we going to do?” asked Fenn, rather helplessly.

“The first thing to do will be to gather wood for a fire before it’s too dark to see,” announced Bart, with assumed if not real cheerfulness. “Then we’ll make a blaze, and eat.”

The mention of food was cheering in itself, to say nothing of the prospect of a fire, and then, too, the act of being busy took from the minds of the lads the thoughts that they were lost.

In a short time they had gathered quite a pile of wood. Some of it was dry, for it was under the low-lying branches of spruce and hemlock trees, and the snow had been kept from it. From the interior of hollow logs some “punk” was obtained, and this, together with some dead branches, that had lodged in a hollow under a big rock, made enough fuel to get a blaze started.

“But where are we going to stay to-night?” asked Frank, when the flickering flames had dispelled some of the darkness.

“Don’t worry about that,” advised Bart. “Some of these fir trees are as good as a tent, and nearly as dry. We can stay under them until morning.”

“Will we be any better off by morning?” asked Ned, dubiously.

“Lots better,” replied Bart, cheerfully. “But let’s get ready for some hot coffee. Lucky we brought the pot along. Ned, you gather some snow in it, and we’ll put it on to melt. Fenn, you get some flat stones, to make a sort of fireplace. Frank, you cut some branches from that hemlock, and make cots under that big tree over there. I’ll help. That will be our tent to-night. Everybody get busy, now.”

Ordering his chums about in this way was the best thing Bart could have done, and, in a short time, everyone was so occupied that he had no time to think of the unpleasant situation. Soon the coffee was boiling away, and Bart had arranged an old log, under the shelter of a tree, for a table. Thereon their frugal meal was spread out.

Luckily each lad carried a drinking cup with him, and this served in which to dispense the coffee. They had no milk, of course, but Bart had been thoughtful enough to bring along some sugar, so the beverage was not at all unpalatable. Then, by the light of the campfire, they sat about, munched their sandwiches, drank the strong coffee, and talked of their afternoon’s adventure.

“Why, that isn’t a half bad place to sleep,” remarked Fenn, as he looked at the “bunk” Bart and Frank had made.

“Sure, it’s great,” added Ned, but it was probably the cheerfulness engendered by a hot drink and food that made them see things with more hopeful eyes.

They had no blankets, but they wore thick clothing, and had on heavy coats, so their situation was not so bad. Besides, the weather was not cold, though it was growing more so, and the snow still fell thickly. The heavy branches of the tree under which the boys crawled, served to protect them.

They stretched out, and hoped to be able to sleep, in order that morning might come the more quickly, but either the strong coffee, or the unusual situation, kept them wide awake. They lay close together, for the sake of warmth, but first Bart would turn over, restlessly, and then, in sequence, Fenn, Ned and Frank would do the same thing.

“What’s the matter; can’t you fellows sleep?” asked Ned, at length.

“No; can you?” inquired Bart.

“Nope. Let’s talk.”

“All right. Say, what do you suppose that man was doing around the mud volcano?” ventured Frank.

They had discussed this, in all its bearings, several times that afternoon, but it was a subject full of new possibilities, and they eagerly welcomed another chance to talk about it.

“I think he was after mud turtles,” said Bart.

“Say,” asked Fenn, suddenly, “did it ever strike you fellows that this fellow might be a detective?”

“A detective?” gasped the other three.

“Yes; after us,” went on Stumpy. “You know we’re suspected of taking that bracelet. It hasn’t been found, and what would be more natural than for Professor Long to hire a private detective, and have him shadow us. I didn’t think of that until just now, but I’ll wager I’m right. You’ll find that man is a detective, and he’s watching us; trying to get a trace of the bracelet. Maybe he thinks we have it, and are going to hide it off in the woods here.”

“Say!” cried Bart, “that’s not a bad ‘think’ of yours, Stumpy. I wouldn’t be surprised but what you are right,” and then they fell to discussing that aspect of the case. It was quite a reversal of the former situation. Instead of them being after the mysterious man, he might be after the chums.

“But how do you account for him entering the school that night, before the bracelet was stolen?” asked Frank.

“Maybe he was shadowing us – or, rather, you fellows – ” said Fenn, who, as will be remembered, was not present on that occasion. “Or, maybe we’re mistaken, and the man Bart saw to-day may not have been the one who entered the school.”

“Oh, he’s the same one,” declared Bart, with conviction.

There was more discussion, and, if it did nothing more, it served a good turn, for it shunted the thoughts of the lads into new channels, and they began to feel sleepy.

But, just as they were about to doze off, there came an exclamation of dismay from Bart.

“What’s the matter?” asked Bart.

“Stream of water trickling down my neck,” was the answer. “I believe it’s raining!”

There was no doubt of it. Instead of turning colder it had grown warmer, and the snow had changed to rain. The tree, thick as were the branches, was little protection against the rain, and, as it increased to a regular downpour, the plight of our heroes was miserable in the extreme. There was nothing to be done but make the best of it. They huddled together, turned up the collars of their coats, and tried to crawl to spots more or less protected. But they were soon pretty wet, and, to add to their misery, they saw their fire die down, and go out.

“Wow! This is fierce!” exclaimed Ned, as a stream of water trickled down his neck. “I wish it was morning. It wouldn’t be so bad if we could travel.” But there was no help for it, and they had to sit there in the storm and darkness, waiting for daylight.

CHAPTER XXI
UNEXPECTED HELP

Never had hours seemed to drag so slowly. There was nothing to be heard save the drip, drip of the rain in the forest, and the mournful sound of the wind in the trees. Once Bart went out, and tried to coax into a blaze the few, faint, remaining embers of the fire, but it was out of the question. He did have it started, but a swaying of the trees overhead sent down a shower of drops, and the blaze was completely extinguished.

“Hang the luck!” exclaimed Bart, as he hurried back into the partial shelter of the tree under which were his chums. “It’s all my fault, for not keeping my compass.”

“No, we should have kept ours,” declared Fenn. “It’s up to us, too.”

“Well, then, I shouldn’t have seen that mysterious man,” went on Bart, determined to blame himself in some fashion, “and we wouldn’t have come on this wild-goose chase.”

“No, it’s a good thing you did see him,” said Frank. “We want to know what he’s up to.”

“I only hope he’s as badly off as we are,” put in Ned, with a shiver. “But say, fellows,” he went on, in a few minutes, “don’t you think it’s slacking up some?”

They all listened. There was no doubt about it, the rain was less in violence, but the wind was rising.

“Maybe it’s going to clear,” suggested Fenn.

“If it does, it’ll be colder,” was Bart’s opinion. It did clear, shortly after that, and there was a decided drop in temperature. Through the boughs of their shelter the boys could see the stars coming out. Miserable, and feeling chilled to the bone, the chums crowded close together.

It soon grew so cold that they had to come out of their shelter to move about and get their blood in circulation. But this served a good purpose, for it gave them something to do. At last a faint streak of light appeared in the east – the herald of the rising sun – and, a little later, the red rim of Old Sol appeared. Never was the big luminary more welcome.

“Now for a fire!” cried Ned, “that is, if we can find any dry wood.” They did manage to pick up a few sticks from inside a hollow log where they had placed them the night before, in anticipation of some emergency, and soon they were warming themselves in front of the flames. But there was nothing to eat, and no coffee left, though Bart did manage to make a potful of what passed for it out of the grounds of what they had used the night before.

“Well, let’s start for camp,” proposed Frank, when they had drunk the hot, if not palatable beverage. “Think you can find the way, Bart?”

“I guess so – I’ll try, anyhow.”

They started off, getting the direction as best they could by the sun, and for an hour tramped forward, feeling, on the whole, rather miserable, but hoping to soon be in camp.

Several hours passed, and they seemed to be no nearer the place where their tents were. Bart’s face wore a puzzled look. He stared around at the trees, as if they would help him solve the problem. Then he said:

“Fellows, I’m sorry, but I don’t know where we are.”

“Lost again, do you mean?” asked Ned.

“I don’t believe we’ve been un-lost, if that’s the proper term,” went on Bart. “I guess we haven’t been on the right path since last night.”

“What are we going to do?” asked Frank, helplessly. “I’m as hungry as a bear.”

“And I’m almost frozen,” added Bart, with a shiver, “so you’re no worse off than the rest of us,” and there was a note of impatience in his voice.

The chums looked at each other. Their plight was disagreeable, not to say desperate. They knew that the forest in which they had encamped was large in extent, and was seldom visited. If they had to spend another night and day in it the consequences might be serious.

“Well,” began Bart, “I suppose the only thing to do is to keep on. We may strike the right path. There are several trails around here.”

He was about to start off again, when they were all startled by hearing a crackling in the underbrush. It seemed to come from their left.

“Get your gun ready, Bart,” whispered Fenn. “Maybe it’s a deer.”

“Maybe it’s that mysterious man,” came from Ned.

Bart had raised his rifle, and, a moment later some one emerged from the thick trees, and stood on the edge of a little clearing, confronting the boys. The newcomer was a youth of about their own age, and on his back was evidently a camping pack. He carried a gun, and at the sight of Bart, with half-raised rifle, the other slowly brought his weapon around for quick use.

But Fenn, who had been staring at the latest arrival with eager eyes, suddenly cried out:

“It’s William Perry! Don’t you know him, fellows? The lad whose mother took us in at the time of the blizzard – William Perry – whom we found in a snowbank in New York!”

“William Perry?” faltered Bart, lowering his rifle.

“William Perry?” came from Ned and Frank, in a sort of a chorus.

“The Darewell Chums!” exclaimed the other lad, while wonder spread over his face. “The Darewell Chums here?”

Fenn started toward William on the run. He was soon shaking hands with him, and leading him over to where Ned, Frank and Bart stood.

“However in the world did you get here?” asked Bart. “Are you lost, too?”

“No,” replied William Perry, “I’m working for a lumber company, and I’m on my way from one camp to another. I had to spend last night in the woods. But what are you doing here?”

“We’ve been out in the woods all night, too,” said Frank. “We’re camping, but we lost our way,” and he quickly explained the circumstances.

“Where’s your camp?” asked William, who, as my readers will remember, was the son of the widow in whose house the chums found shelter during a blizzard that overtook them when they were on a hunting trip, as told in the second volume of this series entitled “The Darewell Chums in the City.” Later they found William in New York. He had gone to become a sailor, but had deserted because of a brutal captain, and went into hiding. He was found half frozen in a snowbank, from which the chums rescued him, and sent him back home.

“Our camp?” repeated Bart, in answer to William’s questions, “I only wish we knew where it was.”

“I mean what’s it near?” went on William.

“Oh, the mud volcano,” replied Frank, “if you know where that is.”

William did, and quickly said so.

“I’ve been working for this lumber concern for about six months,” he went on, “and I know these woods pretty well. But I always go prepared to spend a night in them, as I had to last night.”

“And can you show us the way to our camp?” asked Ned.

“Sure. You’re not more than five miles from it. I guess you’ve been going around in a circle. Come on, I’ll show you,” and with the confidence of experience William Perry led the way through the woods. He had appeared in the nick of time.