The Banner Boy Scouts Snowbound

Paul did not say anything, but his eyebrows went up as though a sudden thought had struck him. Whatever was in his mind he kept to himself.

When they arrived at the marsh where Tolly Tip had several of his traps set he told his companions what he wanted them to do. Under certain conditions they could approach with him and witness the process of taking out the victim, if fortune had been kind to the trapper. Afterwards they would see how he reset the trap, and then backed away, removing every possible evidence of his presence.

Both scouts were deeply interested, though Spider rather pitied the poor rats they took from the cruel jaws of the Newhouse traps, and inwardly decided that after all he would never like to be a gatherer of pelts.

Later on Tolly Tip led them to the frozen creek, where they picked up a splendid mink and an otter as well. Shrewd and sly though these little wearers of fur coats were, they had not been able to withstand the temptation of the bait the trapper had placed in their haunts, with the result that they paid the penalty of their greed with their lives.

Finally the trio reached the pond where the beaver lived. It was, of course, ice covered, but the conical mound in the middle interested the boys very much. Paul took several pictures of it, with his two companions standing in the foreground, as positive evidence that the scouts had been on the spot.

They also examined the strong dam which the cunning animals had constructed across the creek, so as to hold a certain depth of water. When the boys saw the girth of the trees the sharp teeth of the beavers had cut into lengths in order to form the dam, the scouts were amazed.

“I’d give a lot to see them at work,” declared Paul. “If I get half a chance, Tolly Tip, I’m going to come up here next spring if you’ll send me word when they’re on the job. It would be well worth the trip on horseback from Stanhope.”

Upon arriving at the camp toward noon the boys and their guide found everything running smoothly, and a great deal accomplished. Jud had not come back as yet, but several times distant shots had been heard, and the boys were indulging in high hopes of what Jud would bring back.

“You musn’t forget though,” Paul warned these optimists, “that we’re not the only pebbles on the beach. There are others in these woods, some of them with guns, and no mean hunters at that.”

“Meaning the Lawson crowd,” remarked Bobolink. “Your statement is quite true, for I’ve seen Hank do some mighty fine shooting in times past. He likes nothing so much as to wander around day after day in the fall, with a gun in his hands, just as old Rip Van Winkle used to do.”

“Yes,” remarked Jack, drily, “a gun in hand has served as an excuse for a loaf in more ways than getting the family bread.”

“Hey!” cried Bluff, “there comes Jud right now. And look what he’s got, will you?”

CHAPTER XXI

SETTING THE FLASHLIGHT TRAP

“Jud’s holding up one measly rabbit, as sure as anything!” exclaimed Bobolink, with a vein of scorn in his voice, as became the lord of the hunt, who on the preceding day had actually brought down a young buck, and thus provided the camp with a feast for supper.

“We’d soon starve to death if we had to depend on poor old Jud for our grub!” remarked Tom Betts, with a sad shake of his head.

“All that waste of ammunition, and just a lone rabbit to show for it! They say successful hunters must be born, not made!” Sandy Griggs went on to say.

Other sarcastic remarks went the rounds, while Jud just stood meekly, seeming to be very much downcast.

“Are you all through?” he finally asked, looking up with a grin. “Because before you condemn me entirely as a poor stick of a hunter I want to ask Bobolink here, and Spider Sexton to walk over to that low oak tree you can see back yonder, and fetch in what they find in the fork. I caved on the home stretch and dropped my load there.”

“Good for you, Jud!” exclaimed Paul. “I suspected something of the kind when I saw the soiled condition of the game pockets in your hunting-coat, and noticed that a partridge feather was sticking to your hair. Skip along, you two, and make amends for joshing Jud so.”

Of course Bobolink and Spider fairly ran, and soon came back carrying seven plump partridges between them, at sight of which a great cheer arose. Like all fickle crowds, the boys now applauded Jud just as strongly as they had previously sought to poke fun at him.

“Oh! I don’t deserve much credit, boys,” he told them. “These birds just tree after you scare them up, and make easy shots. If they flew off like bullets, as they do in some parts of the country, that would be a bag worth boasting of. But they’ll taste mighty fine, all the same, let me tell you!”

During the afternoon the scouts found many things to interest them. Tolly Tip, of course, had to take care of the pelts he had secured that day, and his manner of doing this interested some of the boys considerably.

He had a great many thin boards of peculiar pattern to which the skins were to be attached after stretching, so that they would dry in this shape.

“Most skins ye notice are cut open an’ cured that way,” the old woodsman explained to his audience, as he worked deftly with his knife; “but some kinds are cased, bein’ taken off whole, and turned inside out to dry.”

“I suppose you lay them near the fire, or out in the sun, to cure,” remarked Tom Betts. “I know that’s the way the Indians dry the pemmican that they use in the winter for food.”

“Pelts are niver cured that way,” explained the trapper, “because it’d make thim shrink. We kape the stretcher boards wid the skins out in the open air, but in the shade where the sun don’t come. Whin they git to a certain stage it’s proper to stack the same away in the cabin, kapin’ a wary eye on ’em right along to prevint mould.”

All such things proved of considerable interest to the scouts, most of whom had very little practical knowledge along these lines. They were eager to pick up useful information wherever it could be found, and on that account asked numerous questions, all of which Tolly Tip seemed delighted to answer.

So another nightfall found them, with everything moving along nicely.

“Guess your old barometer didn’t hit it far wrong after all, Paul,” remarked Sandy Griggs, about the time supper was nearly ready, and the boys were going in and out of the cabin on different errands.

“It has clouded up to be sure,” said the scout-master, “and may snow at any time, though I hope it will hold off until to-morrow. I mean to set my camera trap to-night, you remember, with another comb of wild bee honey for a bear lure.”

“I heard Tolly Tip saying a bit ago,” continued Sandy, “that he didn’t believe the storm would reach us for twelve hours or more. That would give you plenty of time to get your chance with old Bruin, who loves honey so.”

“Jud’s promised to go out with me and help set the trap,” Paul remarked. “You know it’s a walk of nearly a mile to the place, and these snowy woods are pretty lonely after the dark sets in.”

“If Jud backs out because he’s tired from his tramp this morning, Paul, call on me, will you?”

“Bobolink said the same thing,” laughed the scout-master, “so I’m sure not to be left in the lurch. No need of more than one going with me though, and I guess I can count on Jud. It’s hard to tire him.”

“Wow! but those birds do smell good!” exclaimed Sandy, as he sniffed the air. “And that oven of Tolly Tip’s, in which he says he often bakes bread, seems to do the work all right. Looks to me like one of the kind you get with a blue flame kerosene stove.”

“Just what it is,” Paul told him. “But it works splendidly on a red coal fire, too. We’re going to try some baking-powder biscuits to-morrow, Bobolink says. He’s tickled over finding the oven here.”

The partridges were done to a turn, and never had those hungry boys sat down to a better feast than several of their number had prepared for them that night. The old woodsman complimented Bobolink, who was the chief cook.

“I ralely thought I could cook,” Tolly Tip said, “but ’tis mesilf as takes a back sate whin such a connysure is around. And biscuits is it ye mane to thry in the mornin’? I’ll make it a pint to hang around long enough to take lissons, for I confiss that up till now I niver did have much success with thim things.”

Again some of the scouts had to warn Bobolink that he was in jeopardy of his life if he allowed his chest to swell up, as it seemed to be doing under such compliments.

After that wonderful supper had been disposed of, Paul busied himself with his camera, for he had several things to fix before it would be ready to serve as a trap to catch the picture of Bruin in the act of stealing the honey bait.

Jud fondled his shotgun, having thoughtfully replaced the bird shells with a couple of shells containing buckshot that he had brought along in the hope of getting a deer.

“No telling what we may run across when trapsing through the woods with a lantern after nightfall,” he explained to Phil Towns, who was watching his operation with mild interest, not being a hunter himself.

“What would you do if you came face to face with the bear, or perhaps a panther?” asked Phil. “Tolly Tip said he saw one of the big cats last winter.”

“Well, now, that’s hardly a fair question,” laughed Jud. “I’m too modest a fellow to go around blowing my own horn; but the chances are I wouldn’t run. And if both barrels of my gun went off the plagued beast might stand in the way of getting hurt. Figure that out if you can, Phil.”

After a little while Paul arose to his feet and proceeded to light the lantern they had provided for the outing.

“I’m ready if you are, Jud,” he remarked, and shortly afterwards the two left the cabin, Tolly Tip once more repeating the plain directions, so that there need be no fear that the boys would get lost in the snowy woods.

Paul was too wise a woodsman to be careless, and he took Jud directly to the spot which the bear had visited the preceding night.

“Don’t see anything of the creature around, do you?” asked Jud, nervously handling his gun as he spoke.

“Not a sign as yet,” replied Paul. “But the chances are he’ll remember the treat he found here last night, and come trotting along before many hours. That’s what Tolly Tip told me, and he ought to know.”

“Strikes me a bear is a pretty simple sort of an animal after all,” chuckled Jud. “He must think that honey rains down somehow, and never questions but that he’ll find more where the first comb lay. Tell me what to do, Paul, and I’ll be only too glad to help you.”

The camera was presently fixed just where Paul had decided on his previous visit would be the best place. Long experience had taught the lad just how to arrange it so that the animal of which he wished to get a flashlight picture would be compelled to approach along a certain avenue.

When it attempted to take the bait the cord would be pulled, and the cartridge exploded, producing the flash required to take the picture.

“There!” he said finally, after working for at least fifteen minutes, “everything is arranged to a dot, and we can start back home. If Mr. Bear comes nosing around here to-night, and starts to get that honeycomb, I reckon he’ll hand me over something in return in the shape of a photograph.”

“Here’s hoping you’ll get the best picture ever, Paul!” said Jud, earnestly, for he had been deeply impressed with the clever manner in which the photographer went about his duties.

They had gone almost a third of the way over the back trail when a thrilling sound came to their ears almost directly in the path they were following. Both boys came to a sudden halt, and as Jud started to raise his gun he exclaimed:

“Unless I miss my guess, Paul, that was one of the bobcats Tolly Tip told us about.”

CHAPTER XXII

WAYLAID IN THE TIMBER

“Stand perfectly still, Jud,” cried Paul, hastily, fearful that his impulsive companion might be tempted to do something careless.

“But if he starts to jump at us I ought to try to riddle him, Paul, don’t you think?” pleaded the other, as he drew both hammers of his gun back.

Paul carried a camp hatchet, which he had made use of to fashion the approach to the trap. This he drew back menacingly, while gripping the lantern in his left hand.

“Of course, you can, if it comes to a fight, Jud,” he answered, “but the cat may not mean to attack us after all. They’re most vicious when they have young kits near by, and this isn’t the time of year for that.”

“Huh! Tolly Tip told me there was an unusual lot of these fellows around here this season, and mighty bold at that,” Jud remarked, drily, as he searched the vicinity for some sign of a creeping form at which he could fire.

“Yes, I suppose the early coming of winter has made them extra hungry,” admitted the scout-master; “though there seems to be plenty of game for them to catch in the way of rabbits, partridges and gray squirrels.”

“Well, do we go on again, Paul, or are you thinking of camping here for the rest of the night?” demanded Jud, impatiently.

“Oh! we’ll keep moving toward the home camp,” Jud was informed. “But watch out every second of the time. That chap may be lying in a crotch of a tree, meaning to drop down on us.”

A minute later, as they were moving slowly and cautiously along, Jud gave utterance to a low hiss.

“I see the rascal, Paul!” he said excitedly.

“Wait a bit, Jud,” urged the other. “Don’t shoot without being dead sure. A wounded bobcat is nothing to be laughed at, and we may get some beauty scratches before we can finish him. Tell me where you’ve glimpsed the beast.”

“Look up to where I’m pointing with my gun, Paul, and you can see two yellow balls shining like phosphorus. Those are his eyes and if I aim right between them I’m bound to finish him.”

Jud had hardly said this when there came a loud hoot, and the sound of winnowing wings reached them. At the same time the glowing, yellow spots suddenly vanished.

“Wow! what do you think of that for a fake?” growled Jud in disgust. “It was only an old owl after all, staring down at us. But say, Paul! that screech didn’t come from him let me tell you; there’s a cat around here somewhere.”

As if to prove Jud spoke the truth there came just then another vicious snarl.

“Holy smoke! Paul, did you hear that?” ejaculated Jud, half turning. “Comes from behind us now, and I really believe there must be a pair of the creatures stalking us on the way home!”

“They usually hunt in couples,” affirmed Paul, not showing any signs of alarm, though he clutched the hatchet a little more firmly in his right hand, and turned his head quickly from side to side, as though desirous of covering all the territory possible.

“Would it pay us to move around in a half circle, and let them keep the old path?” asked Jud, who could stand for one wildcat, but drew the line at a wholesale supply.

“I don’t believe it would make any difference,” returned the scout-master. “If they’re bent on giving us trouble any sign of weakness on our part would only encourage them.”

“What shall we do then?”

“Move right along and pay attention to our business,” replied Paul. “If we find that we’ve got to fight, try to make sure of one cat when you fire. The second rascal we may have to tackle with hatchet and clubbed gun. Now walk ahead of me, so the light won’t dazzle your eyes when I swing the lantern.”

The two scouts moved along slowly, always on the alert. Paul kept the light going back and forth constantly, hoping that it might impress the bold bobcats with a sense of caution. Most wild animals are afraid of fire, and as a rule there is no better protection for the pedestrian when passing through the lonely woods than to have a blazing torch in his hand, with lusty lungs to shout occasionally.

“Hold on!” exclaimed Jud, after a short time had elapsed.

“What do you see now, another owl?” asked Paul, trying to make light of the situation, though truth to tell he felt a bit nervous.

“This isn’t any old owl, Paul,” asserted the boy with the gun. “Besides the glaring eyes, I can see his body on that limb we must pass under. Look yourself and tell me if that isn’t his tail twitching back and forth?”

“Just what it is, Jud. I’ve seen our tabby cat do that when crouching to spring on a sparrow. The beast is ready to jump as soon as we come within range. Are you covering him, Jud?”

“Dead center. Trust me to damage his hide for him. Shall I shoot?”

“Use only one barrel, mind, Jud. You may need the other later on. Now, if you’re all ready, let go!”

There was a loud bang as Jud pulled the trigger. Mingled with the report was a shrill scream of agony. Then something came flying through the air from an entirely different quarter.

“Look out! The second cat!” yelled Paul, striking savagely with his hatchet, which struck against a flying body, and hurled it backward in a heap.

The furious wildcat instantly recovered, and again assailed the two boys standing on the defensive. Jud had clubbed his gun, for at such close quarters he did not think he could shoot with any degree of accuracy.

Indeed, for some little time that beast kept both of them on the alert, and more than once sharp claws came in contact with the tough khaki garments worn by the scouts.

After a third furious onslaught which ended in the cat’s being knocked over by a lucky stroke from Jud’s gunstock, the animal seemed to conclude that the combat was too unequal. That last blow must have partly tamed its fiery spirit, for it jumped back out of sight, though they could still hear its savage snarling from some point near by.

Both lads were panting for breath. At the same time they felt flushed with victory. It was not every scout who could meet with such an adventure as this when in the snowy forest, and come out of it with credit.

“If he only lets me get a glimpse of his old hide,” ventured Jud, grimly, “I’ll riddle it for him, let me tell you! But say! I hope you don’t mean to evacuate this gory battle-ground without taking a look to see whether I dropped that other beast or not?”

“Of course not, Jud! I’m a little curious myself to see whether your aim was as good as you believe. Let’s move over that way, always keeping ready to repel boarders, remember. That second cat may get his wind, and come for us again.”

“I hope he will, that’s what!” said Jud, whose fighting blood was now up. “I dare him to tackle us again. Nothing would please me better, Paul.”

A dozen paces took them to the vicinity of the tree in which Jud had sighted the crouching beast at which he had fired.

“Got him, all right, Paul!” he hastened to call out, with a vein of triumph in his excited voice. “He fell in a heap, and considering that there were twelve buckshot in that shell, and every one hit him, it isn’t to be wondered at.”

“A pretty big bobcat in the bargain, Jud, and well worth boasting over. Look at his long claws, and the sharp teeth back of those short lips. An ugly customer let me tell you. I’m glad we didn’t have him on our shoulders, that’s all.”

“I’m bound to drag the creature all the way to the cabin, to show the boys,” announced the successful marksman. “Now don’t say anything against it, Paul. You see I’ll hold my gun under my arm ready, and at the first sign of trouble I’ll let go of the game and be ready to shoot.”

“That’s all right, Jud, you’re entitled to your trophy, though the skin is pretty well riddled with that big hole through it. Still, Tolly Tip may be able to cure it so as to make a mat for your den at home. Let’s be moving.”

They could still hear that low and ominous growling and snarling. Sometimes it came from one side, and then again switched around to the other, as the angry cat tried to find an avenue that would appear to be undefended.

Every step of the way home they felt they were being watched by a pair of fiery eyes. Not for a second did either of the boys dream of abating their vigilance, for the sagacity of the wildcat would enable him to know when to make the attack.

Indeed, several times Jud dropped his trailing burden and half raised his gun, as he imagined he detected a suspicious movement somewhere close by. They proved to be false alarms, however, and nothing occurred on the way home to disturb them.

When not far from the cabin they heard loud voices, and caught the flicker of several blazing torches amidst the trees.

“It’s Tolly Tip and the boys,” announced Paul, as soon as he caught the sounds and saw the moving lights. “They must have heard the gunshot and our shouts, and are coming this way to find out what’s the trouble.”

A few minutes later they saw half a dozen hurrying figures approaching, several carrying guns. As the anxious ones discovered Paul and Jud they sent out a series of whoops which the returning scouts answered. And when those who had come from the cabin saw the dead bobcat, as well as listened to the story of the attack, they were loud in their praises of the valor of the adventurous pair.

CHAPTER XXIII

THE BLIZZARD

“Whew! but it’s bitter cold this morning!” shouted Sandy Griggs, as he opened the cabin door and thrust his head out.

“Looks like a few flakes of snow shooting past, in the bargain,” added Bobolink. “That means that the long expected storm is upon us.”

Paul turned to Jack at hearing this, for both of them were hurriedly dressing after crawling out of their comfortable bunks.

“A little snow isn’t going to make us hedge on that arrangement we made the last thing before turning in, I hope, Jack?” he asked, smilingly.

“I should say not!” came the prompt reply. “Besides, if it’s going to put a foot or two of the feathery on the ground, it strikes me you’ve just got to get that expensive camera of yours again. I’m with you, Paul, right after breakfast.”

Tolly Tip was also in somewhat of a hurry, wishing to make the round of his line of traps before the storm fully set in.

So it came about that Paul and his closest chum, after a cup of hot coffee and a meagre breakfast, hurried away from the cabin.

“We can get another batch when we come back, if they save any for us, you know,” the scout-master remarked, as they opened the door and passed out.

“Kape your bearin’s, lads,” called the old woodsman. “If so be the storm comes along with a boom it’ll puzzle ye to be sure av yer way. And by the same token, to be adrift in thim woods with a howler blowin’ for thray days isn’t any fun.”

When the scouts once got started they found that the air was particularly keen. Both of them were glad they had taken the precaution to cover up their ears, and wear their warmest mittens.

“Something seems to tell me we’re in for a regular blizzard this time,” Jack remarked as they trudged manfully along, at times bowing their heads to the bitter wind that seemed to cut like a knife.

“I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if that turned out to be true,” Paul contented himself with saying.

They did not exchange many words while breasting the gale, for it was the part of wisdom to keep their mouths closed as much as possible.Paul had taken note of the way to the spot where the camera trap had been set in the hope of catching Bruin in the act of taking the sweet bait.

A number of times he turned around and looked back. This was because he had accustomed himself to viewing his surroundings at various angles, which is a wise thing for a scout to do. Then when he tries to retrace his steps he will not find himself looking at a reverse picture that seems unfamiliar in his eyes.

In the course of time the boys arrived at their destination.

“Don’t see anything upset around here,” observed Paul, with a shade of growing disappointment in his voice; and then almost instantly adding in excitement: “But the bait’s gone, all right—and yes! the cartridge has been fired. Good enough!”

“Here you can see faint signs of the tracks of the bear under this new coating of snow!” declared Jack, pointing down at his feet.

Paul, knowing that he would not go for his camera until after broad daylight, had managed to so arrange it, with a clever attachment of his own construction, that an exposure was made just at the second the cord firing the flashlight was drawn taut.

It was a time exposure—the shutter remaining open for a score of seconds before automatically closing again. This was arranged so that pictures could be taken on moonlight nights as well as dark ones. He had tried it on several previous occasions, and with very good results.