The Gun Club Boys of Lakeport

“Nobody ever tried to stop my hunting here before,” said Joel Runnell. “As I told you before, so far as I know, the island is under the care of Sheriff Clowes. As to who owns the island, that is for the courts to decide.”

“Then we’ll quit on notice from the sheriff, and not before,” said Joe.

“It’s a wonder Dan Marcy didn’t steal something,” put in Harry. “I don’t think he’d be above doing such a thing.”

“Oh, don’t paint him any blacker than he is, Harry,” returned his brother; nevertheless, all looked around the lodge with interest, to make sure that nothing was missing.

“I suppose Marcy has gone to old Skeetles to report,” said Joel Runnell, later on, while they were broiling a choice cut of deer meat. “And if that’s so we’ll hear from him again before long.”

The hunt had given everybody a good appetite, and they sat over the well-cooked venison a long time, praising the meal and talking over the prospects for more sport. There was a good deal of enthusiasm, and, in the midst of this, Marcy and Hiram Skeetles were for the time being forgotten.

It being New Year’s night they did not go to bed as early as usual, but instead sat up eating nuts and listening to several good hunting stories old Runnell had to tell. They also talked of home, until Harry grew just a bit homesick and changed the subject.

With nothing to make them get up early, all hands slept the following morning until after eight o’clock. The old hunter was the first to arise, and he had the breakfast well under way before the others rolled out.

“I’ve been a-thinking it over,” said old Runnell. “Perhaps one of us had better stay at the lodge while the others go for that other deer meat. Then, if Marcy comes, or Hiram Skeetles, there will be somebody here to talk to him.”

“I’d just as lief stay,” said Fred, who did not relish hauling the load of meat to Snow Lodge.

“Supposing you and Runnell both stay,” suggested Joe. “I am sure Harry and I can get the deer over without much trouble.”

The matter was discussed while they were eating breakfast, and Joe’s plan was adopted. A little later he and Harry set off, each with his gun, and Harry with his ever-present camera in addition. So far Harry had taken, besides the game, several pictures of the lodge and its surroundings, and had already laid away a strip of six films for development when he should get home.

“I hope we’re able to bring down something on this trip,” said Harry, as they trudged along over the lake.

“We can’t expect to bring in something every trip we make, Harry. If we did we’d be the greatest Gun Club in the United States. Many a hunter goes out all day and doesn’t so much as see a squirrel.”

“Oh, I know that. I really think that so far our luck has been remarkably good.”

“It won’t keep up. Our shooting in this vicinity will scare the game away from the lodge. As the days go by we’ll have to go farther and farther away for something worth bringing down.”

The journey across the lake was made without incident, but scarcely had they struck the mainland when a distant howl greeted their ears.

“What is that?” came from Harry.

“It’s the howl of a wolf,” answered his brother. “I shouldn’t wonder but what he has scented the deer meat.”

“If he has we may have some trouble in getting the deer home.”

“Oh, I guess we can easily take care of one wolf.”

“But there may be more, Joe. Wolves generally travel in packs, you know.”

“Yes, but I don’t hear any others.”

“He may be calling his mates.”

They moved forward up the rise, and presently came in sight of the game. Under the tree where the deer was strung up sat two wolves, gazing wistfully at the meat.

“Two of them here, and one below!” cried Joe. “That makes three.”

“Wait! let me get a picture!” whispered Harry, and brought his camera into use without delay. It certainly made a good scene, and he got as close as he could ere he pressed the button. Then he took up his shotgun and blazed away, and Joe did the same.

Neither of the wolves was much hurt, and both limped into the woods growling savagely. The growl was answered from a distance, and in a very few minutes four other wolves appeared, ranging themselves in a semicircle at what they considered a safe distance.

“The impudent beggars!” murmured Joe, and, bringing his shotgun up, he let drive at the nearest wolf. This time his aim was true, and the wolf leaped up, to fall dead. Instantly the other wolves fell upon their dead companion, rending the carcass limb from limb.

“I must say I don’t like this,” declared Harry, in something of a nervous voice. “It looks as if they meant business. As soon as that wolf is gone they’ll turn on us again.”

“Here comes a whole pack of wolves!” shouted Joe.

He was right, a distant yelping and howling proclaimed their approach. Soon they burst into view, at least twenty strong, and in a twinkling the two young hunters found themselves completely surrounded!

CHAPTER XI

CONFRONTED BY THE ENEMY

Fred had broken one of his snowshoes while running away from the deer, and Joel Runnell’s first work after Harry and Joe had left Snow Lodge was to repair this.

“You want to be more careful in the future,” said the old hunter, when the job was finished. “So far you have tumbled into nothing worse than a snowbank. If you should slide over a cliff and land upon the rocks, you might get badly hurt.”

“I intend to be careful in the future,” answered the youth. “I am sorry I ran away – now,” he added, regretfully.

“Well, lad, as to that, it’s often much safer to run than to stand your ground. I dodged an old buck once for half an hour, and then escaped only by the skin of my teeth. Something got the matter with my gun, and it wouldn’t go off.”

“Did you kill him?”

“Yes, two days later. I made up my mind I’d have him, and I traveled nigh on thirty miles to lay him low.”

After the necessary work around the lodge was concluded time hung heavily on Fred’s hands, and he decided to try his luck once more at fishing.

“It’s better than doing nothing,” he said.

“Well, it’s all right, only don’t fall into the hole, and get drowned,” cautioned Joel Runnell. And then Fred disappeared with his outfit, whistling merrily.

Left to himself, Joel Runnell proceeded to split some more wood, and pile it up in a corner of the living-room. To his experienced eye he could see that another snowstorm was not far off, and how long it would last there was no telling.

“We’ve got meat enough,” he reasoned to himself. “And so long as we have wood, too, there will be no cause to worry.”

The thermometer had gone down once more, and he had to work at a lively rate to keep warm. He wondered how Fred was making out with his fishing, and grinned to himself.

“Wager he won’t stay there long,” he muttered. “If he does, he’ll be frozen stiff.”

The old hunter had just carried in his sixth armful of wood, when a shadow crossed the open doorway, and looking up he found himself confronted by Hiram Skeetles.

The real estate dealer was a tall, thin man, with a leathery face and broken snags of yellowish teeth. He chewed tobacco constantly, and the corners of his mouth were much discolored in consequence.

“So ye hain’t taken my warnin’, I see,” snarled Skeetles.

“Hello, Skeetles; what brings you?” demanded Joel Runnell, as cheerily as he could.

“Ye know well enough what brung me, Joel Runnell. Didn’t I warn ye not to trespass on my property?”

“I’ve told you that I don’t know as it is your property. So far I think it belongs to the old Crawley estate, and it’s in the sheriff’s care.”

“It ain’t so; it’s mine, every foot of it.” Hiram Skeetles’ eyes blazed. “I want for you to git out, an’ be quick about it.”

“And I ain’t a-going,” answered Joel Runnell, doggedly.

“You ain’t?”

“No.” The old hunter sat down by the fire, with his gun across his knees. “Now, what are you going to do about it?”

“Did you see the notice I had Dan Marcy leave?”

“I did; but that counts for nothing with me.”

“I’ll have the law on ye!”

“Perhaps you will, and perhaps you won’t, Hiram.”

“Don’t Hiram me, Joel Runnell. I don’t put myself on a level with a vagabond o’ a game stealer like you. If – ”

“Hold on there, Skeetles. I am no game stealer, and if you say so – ” The old hunter had leaped up, gun in hand.

“Don’t – don’t ye shoot me!” howled the real estate dealer.

“Then don’t say such things again. Every bit of game I bring in I come by honestly.”

“Where are those Westmore chaps?” questioned Hiram Skeetles, deeming it best to shift the subject.

“They have gone out to bring in some game we shot yesterday.”

“Did they see the notice?”

“They did, and they care for it as little as I do.”

“Think they can ride over me, eh?” Hiram Skeetles took a turn up and down the apartment. “Must say the lot of ye are carryin’ matters with a high hand.”

“What did you do with Dan Marcy?” asked Joel Runnell, suddenly.

“That’s my business.”

“If you brought him along to worry us you did a very foolish thing,” went on the old hunter. “I haven’t forgotten how he tried to run down my girl with his ice boat.”

“Your gal had a right to git out o’ the way.”

“I won’t argue the point. But if Marcy worries me any more he’ll get something he won’t like.”

“We’ll see about this. I’ll call on the sheriff,” said Hiram Skeetles; and without another word he passed out of the lodge, and made his way toward the upper end of the lake.

Anxious to learn what would be the man’s next move, Joel Runnell followed. But Skeetles broke into a run, and soon disappeared from view among a patch of woods.

In thoughtful mood the old hunter walked back to the lodge, and then toward where Fred was fishing. He found the youth safe, and surprised to learn that the real estate dealer had showed himself in that out-of-the-way place.

“He doesn’t like it that Joe and Harry are here,” said Fred. “I really think he’s afraid they’ll find that pocketbook he says he once lost.”

“I hope they do find it – if it’s got those missing papers in it,” was the answer.

Fred had already caught several fish, and said he intended to catch as many more before he quit, no matter how cold it grew.

“I’ll show them that I can catch fish even if I’m no good at deer hunting,” he explained.

“Have you seen anything in the shape of game since you came down?”

“I saw something that looked like a black bear. But he didn’t come near here.”

“A bear? Where?”

Fred pointed out the direction, and Joel Runnell started off to see if the report was true. But he could find nothing, and in half an hour he returned.

“You must have been mistaken, Fred. Perhaps it was nothing but a shadow.”

“Well, I was busy fishing, and didn’t notice particularly,” returned the boy.

He said he wanted to catch just two fish more, and would then return to the lodge.

“All right, but don’t get frozen stiff doing it,” answered Joel Runnell.

“When do you think Joe and Harry will return?”

“They ought to be along inside of an hour. They’ll find that load a pretty heavy one.”

“I heard some shooting over there a while ago. But it has stopped now.”

To warm himself, the old hunter walked briskly in the direction of Snow Lodge. He felt uneasy; why, he could not explain.

“Those boys may have gotten into trouble,” he thought. “Perhaps I had better slip after them and find out.”

As he came in sight of the lodge an exclamation of astonishment burst from his lips. All of their traps and stores had been tumbled in a heap on the edge of the clearing, and the door was tightly closed, and the broken-out window partly barred.

“This is Skeetles’ work!” he muttered.

“Stop where you are!” came in the real estate dealer’s voice, as Runnell walked to the door and tried it, to find it locked. “If you attempt to come in you’ll get shot.”

“That’s the talk,” was added by Dan Marcy. “Possession is nine points of the law, and we want you to take your stuff and be gone!”

“But see here – ” began Joel Runnell.

“We won’t argy with ye!” snarled Hiram Skeetles, as he appeared at the window, gun in hand. “Clear out, an’ be quick about it.”

Joel Runnell was about to say something far from complimentary to the pair, when a yell from the lake shore reached his ears. Fred was running toward him with a face full of fear.

“The bear! The bear!” he yelled. “He’s after me!”

CHAPTER XII

DRIVEN FROM THE LODGE

As soon as he heard Fred’s cry, Joel Runnell forgot for the time being his trouble with Hiram Skeetles and Dan Marcy.

“A bear?” he repeated. “Where is he?”

“He’s coming right after me!” yelled the stout youth. “Shoot him, or we’ll both be chewed up!”

The old hunter had his rifle in his hands, and now he ran to meet Fred, who was coming up with his fishing rod and a string of fish. The stout youth was tremendously excited, and, reaching the pile of traps on the ground, he went sprawling headlong, while his catch scattered in all directions.

“I see him!” exclaimed Joel Runnell, as the bear came into view, a shaggy black fellow, weighing several hundred pounds. The animal was among the trees, and to get a fair shot at the creature was next to impossible.

Boy and beast had come up to Snow Lodge on the side upon which the partly barred window was located, so it was easy for Hiram Skeetles and Dan Marcy to note what was taking place without exposing themselves to danger.

“Is it really a bear?” questioned the real estate dealer, in a nervous voice.

“It is,” announced Marcy. “And a right big fellow, too. Like as not he’ll give ’em a stiff fight. He looks hungry enough to tackle most anything.”

“Do you – er – think he can get in here?”

“Not unless he comes in by this window, and we can shoot him if he tries that.”

“Let us try to close up the opening,” came from Hiram Skeetles, and he hurried to the pile of wood to get a stick for that purpose.

In the meantime the bear had reached the edge of the clearing, and there he stood, upright, viewing the situation. The smell of fish was tantalizing to his empty stomach, but the sight of two human beings instead of one made him hold back.

Bringing up his rifle, Joel Runnell took the best aim possible and fired. When the smoke cleared away, it was seen that the bear had been hit in the front leg, but not seriously wounded. With a growl of pain and rage, the disappointed beast dropped on all fours, turned, and sped into the woods with all the speed at his command.

“Whe – where is he? Did you kill him?” gasped Fred, as he scrambled to his feet.

“No; I only wounded him,” was the answer, as the old hunter reloaded the rifle with all speed. “Wait here until I see if I can’t lay him low.”

“But supposing he comes back here?”

“I’ll be on his heels. You can take your shotgun and climb into a tree if you wish.”

Without another word Joel Runnell ran off in the direction the bear had taken, and soon the trees, bushes and deep snow hid him completely from view.

“It’s funny he told me to climb a tree,” mused Fred. “It’s a good deal safer in the lodge than anywhere else, and a heap sight warmer, too,” and picking up his fish, he started to go forward, when he stopped short and gazed at the traps and stores in astonishment. “What on earth made Runnell throw these things out?” he mused.

“Keep back there, Fred Rush!” came in Dan Marcy’s voice from the lodge window. “You can’t come in here, nohow!”

“Hello!” ejaculated Fred. “So you are back. Did you throw out our things in this fashion?”

“We did,” put in Hiram Skeetles. “And what is more, they are going to stay out. We’ve given you warning, and now I want the whole crowd of ye to clear out.”

“Well, I never!” gasped the stout youth. “Of all the cheeky things to do – ”

“It wasn’t cheeky at all,” interrupted the real estate dealer. “As I told Runnell, this is my land, and I won’t have none o’ ye on it.”

“Won’t you let me in to warm myself?”

“No.”

“Then all I’ve got to say, Hiram Skeetles, is that you are a brute.”

“I don’t want none o’ your talk, Fred Rush.”

“You claim to own this island, but we don’t think so, any more than we think you own the old Anderson claim.”

This latter remark appeared to make Hiram Skeetles furious.

“Bringin’ that up again, eh?” he shouted. “I reckon as how them Westmore boys set ye up to it. But I know what’s mine, and I intend to keep it. Now you clear out, and be mighty quick about it.”

“What will you do if I don’t go?”

“I’ll make it warm, I can tell ye that!”

Skeetles showed his gun, and Dan Marcy exhibited a pistol, and, alarmed at the unexpected show of firearms, Fred dropped back to the place where the stores had been placed.

As he could not get into the lodge, Fred decided to follow Joel Runnell’s advice and take to a tree. Armed with several blankets, he climbed into a pine and made himself as comfortable as possible. The storm that had threatened now started, the flakes of snow coming down softly, and growing thicker and thicker every minute.

“This will make it bad for Joe and Harry,” thought Fred. “They’ll have their own troubles getting back to camp if it snows too hard.”

From a distance he heard a rifle shot, proving that Joel Runnell was still following the bear. But after that all was quiet for a good hour.

By that time Fred was hungry, and climbing down to the ground, he procured such things from the stores as were ready to eat. He was just finishing a cracker when Joel Runnell came into view.

“Did you shoot him?” asked the youth, eagerly.

“No, he got away among the rocks,” was Joel Runnell’s reply. “I might have tracked him farther, but I was afraid of falling into some pit, the snow is that thick. I reckon this is going to be the banner storm of the season. How did you make out with Skeetles and Marcy?”

“I made out – and that’s all,” grinned Fred. “They won’t let me come near the cabin.”

“I thought as much, and as I came along I picked out a new spot for a shelter – providing you and the others want to stay on the island.”

“We can’t leave until Joe and Harry come back. If we do, they won’t know where to look for us.”

“Just my idee, Fred. We’ll go down close to the shore. Then they can’t miss us when they come over.”

“They ought to be here by this time.”

“Perhaps they got on the track of more game.”

Without delay the stores and traps were packed on the two sleds, and the pair started away from Snow Lodge. From the window Hiram Skeetles and Dan Marcy watched them with interest.

“Don’t ye dare to stay on the island!” shouted the real estate dealer after them. “If ye do, I’ll have the law on ye!”

“Oh, give us a rest!” retorted Fred. “Perhaps we’ll have the law on you before this affair is finished.”

“I’ve got my rights – ”

“And so have we, and the Westmores have got theirs, too. Some day they’ll find those missing papers, and then you may hear a thing or two,” and with this parting shot Fred moved off with one sled, while old Runnell moved off with the other.

“Ha! did you hear that?” gasped Hiram Skeetles, clutching Marcy by the arm. “Do you think – ”

“Oh, don’t get scared,” came from the bully. “They don’t know any more about those papers than they know about the man in the moon.”

“But they might have heard of my loss – ”

“No, I think it was only a bluff, Hiram. They’ll leave to-day or to-morrow, and that will be the end of it.”

“I hope they do leave,” sighed the real estate dealer. “I won’t feel safe so long as they are on the island.”

“Do you remember the place where you dropped your pocketbook?”

“Not the exact spot. I was all shook up by the storm, and had a splittin’ headache. I looked around for half a day, but it was no use.”

“Maybe the pocketbook and the papers went to the bottom of the lake.”

“I’d rather have that happen than that they should run across those papers,” answered Skeetles, with another sigh.

The spot Joel Runnell had chosen for a new camp was located not far from where Fred had been fishing. Here a clump of pines overhung a hollow several yards wide, and sloping off toward the lake shore. To the north of the hollow were a series of rocks, that, along with the pines, cut off a good portion of the wind and the snow.

“I’ll cut a few saplings, and throw them over the hollow, and over them we can place a double blanket and some pine boughs,” said Joel Runnell. “Then we can clean out the place and start a fire near the doorway, and we’ll be almost as comfortable as at the lodge.”

“They kept one of the deer on us. I think that was cheeky.”

“Never mind, we have the other, and we’ll have two more when Joe and Harry get back. I don’t think they took anything else.”

But in this the old hunter was mistaken. Skeetles and Marcy had helped themselves to a little of almost all the stores, but had not taken sufficient of any particular article to make it noticeable.

It took over an hour to get the shelter into shape. Then the fire was started between two large rocks, and here they proceeded to broil several of the fish, and also set a pot of beans to baking as soon as one of the rocks was hot enough.

“It’s queer that Joe and Harry don’t show themselves,” was Fred’s comment, while they were eating. “In such a storm as this they ought to know enough to hurry back.”

“I’ll wait a little longer and see if they don’t turn up, Fred. They may have found the load heavier than they calculated on. Remember, too, it’s quite a distance to where we left those deer hanging.”

“What do you think those shots meant?”

“I can’t say, except that they might have brought down some more small game, maybe a partridge or some rabbits.”

Having finished the repast, both set to work to chop firewood, for it was easier to do this than to drag it from the pile at the lodge.

“It galls me to think they’ll use up what we cut,” grumbled Fred. “But I’m going to get square sometime, you see if I don’t!”

“I think, according to law, we could make ’em pay for that venison,” returned Joel Runnell. “But I reckon it ain’t worth going to law about. We can decide on what’s best to do after Joe and Harry get back.”

Slowly the afternoon wore away. In the meantime the sky grew darker, and the snow came down so thickly that but little could be seen in any direction.

“I must say I don’t like this,” remarked the old hunter, with a grave shake of his head. “Reckon I had best go across the lake and see what has become of those lads. You won’t mind staying here alone, will you?”

Fred did mind – not having forgotten about the bear. But he hesitated to say so, and put on a bold front.

“Go ahead, but don’t stay away any longer than is necessary,” he said, and a few minutes later Joel Runnell departed on his search for the missing ones.

CHAPTER XIII

LOST IN A BLIZZARD

To Joe and Harry the sight of so many half-starved wolves was certainly a dismaying one. They were vicious-looking creatures, and the fact that the first arrivals had quickly devoured the beast they had brought low proved that they would stop at nothing in order to satisfy their hunger.

Without wasting words, each of the youths fired into the pack, and by good luck two more of the creatures were killed. The others retreated for a minute, but then came forward once more, to rend the dead bodies and snarl and fight over the choicest pieces.

“That was lucky,” said Joe. “But those dead ones won’t last long.”

“What had we best do?” questioned his brother. “Run for it, or climb into the tree?”

Before an answer could be given to this query three of the wolves advanced on the lads, snarling more savagely than ever. Not wishing to be attacked before he could re-load, Harry leaped up into the lower branches of the tree in which the two deer still hung. Joe followed, and both climbed still higher out of harm’s way. More wolves came up, until eight were stationed at the foot of the tree, all snarling and yelping and leaping, their polished teeth showing plainly, and their eyes reflecting the cruelty of their natures.

“We are in a pickle now, and no error!” groaned Harry. “What in the world are we to do next?”

“Well, I reckon you can take another snap shot if you wish,” answered Joe, dryly.