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Title: The Outdoor Chums After Big Game
       Or, Perilous Adventures in the Wilderness

Author: Captain Quincy Allen

Release Date: February 27, 2005 [EBook #15188]

Language: English

Character set encoding: ASCII

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  [Illustration: FILLED WITH MAD RAGE, HE WAS GALLOPING STRAIGHT
  TOWARD THEM!--_Frontispiece_.--_Page 66_]


THE OUTDOOR CHUMS AFTER BIG GAME

OR

Perilous Adventures in the Wilderness



BY

CAPTAIN QUINCY ALLEN

AUTHOR OF "THE OUTDOOR CHUMS,"
"THE OUTDOOR CHUMS ON THE LAKE," ETC.



_ILLUSTRATED_



NEW YORK
GROSSET & DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS




  THE OUTDOOR CHUMS SERIES

  BY CAPTAIN QUINCY ALLEN

  THE OUTDOOR CHUMS
  Or The First Tour of the Rod, Gun and Camera Club

  THE OUTDOOR CHUMS ON THE LAKE
  Or Lively Adventures on Wildcat Island

  THE OUTDOOR CHUMS IN THE FOREST
  Or Laying the Ghost of Oak Ridge

  THE OUTDOOR CHUMS ON THE GULF
  Or Rescuing the Lost Balloonists

  THE OUTDOOR CHUMS AFTER BIG GAME
  Or Perilous Adventures in the Wilderness

  _12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Price, per volume, 50 cents postpaid._


  GROSSET & DUNLAP
  PUBLISHERS NEW YORK

  COPYRIGHT, 1911, BY GROSSET & DUNLAP
  _The Outdoor Chums After Big Game_




  CONTENTS


  CHAPTER                                 PAGE
        I  GLORIOUS NEWS                     1
       II  THE MOTORCYCLE THIEVES           14
      III  HOMEWARD BOUND BY MOONLIGHT      22
       IV  STARTING HANK RIGHT              31
        V  WESTWARD BOUND                   40
       VI  AT THE VALLEY RANCH              49
      VII  THE GRIZZLY AT BAY               60
     VIII  BLUFF MISSES SOMETHING           67
       IX  FRANK HAS HIS TURN               76
        X  THE YOUNG HUNTER AND THE ELK     87
       XI  THE ELK AND THE YOUNG HUNTER     96
      XII  HARD LUCK                       105
     XIII  AN INVADER IN CAMP              116
      XIV  THE COWBOY GUIDE                125
       XV  IN THE RAPIDS                   134
      XVI  THE NEW CAMP                    143
     XVII  AT THE CAMPFIRE OF THE CREES    153
    XVIII  AN INVITATION TO COME OUT       162
      XIX  A STRANGE DISCLOSURE            173
       XX  "WE MUST CUT AND RUN FOR IT!"   182
      XXI  NEVER GIVE UP                   191
     XXII  THE WAR OF THE ELEMENTS         198
    XXIII  THE STAMPEDE                    206
     XXIV  A MYSTERY SOLVED                215
      XXV  HOME AGAIN--CONCLUSION          225




THE OUTDOOR CHUMS AFTER BIG GAME




CHAPTER I

GLORIOUS NEWS


"Hello, there, _Red Rover_! Come alongside!"

"What's the row, fellows? This dandy breeze is too good to be wasted
loafing."

"Frank's coming in the _Jupiter_, and coming like a streak!"

"Yes, and more than that, Bluff, he waves his hat as though he had great
news!"

Will Milton and Jerry Wallington sat in the double canoe, that with
flapping sails pointed its stem into the wind; while their chum, Richard
Masters, known among all his schoolmates as Bluff, manipulated the
dainty fifteen-foot cedar craft in which he had been speeding over the
surface of Camalot Lake.

Another midget boat, constructed on the same lines as that in which
Bluff was seated, came flying down before the wind, and presently
brought up alongside the other craft.

It contained a single young fellow, upon whose frank and open face
rested a broad smile that seemed to prophesy pleasing news.

"What makes you look so happy, Frank? Evidently you've heard that your
examination papers were up to the standard, and it's college next year
for yours," remarked Bluff with eagerness, and, it must be confessed, a
tinge of envy in his quivering voice.

"Right for you! But that is only the beginning of my news!" cried Frank
Langdon as he reached out and caught Jerry by the arm.

"Am I in it?" demanded that worthy, seeming to catch his breath.

"Well, I should say you were, and with even better honors than poor me.
Now, the rest of you fellows, don't look that way. It's all right, I
tell you," went on the bearer of news, trying to control his own voice,
but succeeding only a little better than Jerry.

"Say! do you mean it? Did Bluff and I get through, after all?" exclaimed
Will.

Frank nodded his head enthusiastically.

"Careful, now, you wild Indians! Just remember that you're in canoes
that can be upset easily, and unless you want a ducking out in the
middle of the lake, restrain your enthusiasm a bit, please. It isn't the
easiest thing in the world, climbing over the stern of a canoe with all
your clothes on," he warned them.

"But is it really true?" pleaded Will. "Have I crawled through decently?
Well, I'm glad; not only because it will keep four chums together a
while longer, in college, but my mother has set her heart on this thing.
Yes, I'm mighty well pleased."

Will's mother was a rich widow, and as he had only a twin sister,
Violet, for whom Frank entertained a pronounced liking, the two were
more than ordinarily dear to Mrs. Milton.

"Well, fellows, let's give one mighty cheer because of our good
fortune," said Jerry, his face beaming with delight; for the chums were
very fond of each other, and had a single one been left behind on the
following year, when the college term opened, there would have been many
a keen regret.

"Hip, hip, hurrah! Hurrah! hurrah! Tiger!"

No doubt, many persons ashore, who heard that lusty shout come ringing
over the clear water of the beautiful little lake on which the town of
Centerville was located, wondered what the burst of enthusiasm meant.

But then they knew these four boys were built along the right lines,
and that while they loved the whole outdoors, with its attendant
exciting times, never had they been known to indulge in mean pranks.

After the cheer had died away there was a shaking of hands all around.

"Fellows, it begins to look as though our great trip to the Gulf of
Mexico last winter might not be our last grand outing, after all. You
know what our parents promised us if we went through all right?"

"Hear! hear! Frank has the floor!" cried Jerry.

"We were to have our choice of an extended tour through Yellowstone Park
to California, and return by way of the Canadian Rockies; or a grand
hunt in the wilderness, wherever we chose to take it. That was the idea,
wasn't it?" went on the happy occupant of the _Jupiter_.

"Talk to me about your personally conducted tours all you please,
nothing appeals to me like a real old hunt in the Great West," said
Jerry ecstatically. "Haven't I just longed for a chance to look at a big
elk in his native wilds, for years? And the thought of a grizzly bear
sends a thrill of pleasure through me."

"And as for me, haven't I lain awake nights without number thinking
about what bliss it would be to actually snap off a few pictures of
those same animals right where they live? How tame to go to a menagerie
and get a photo of a poor old bear behind the bars, when a fellow has a
chance to take him in the open!"

Of course it was Will who made this remark. He was the official
photographer of the Rod, Gun and Camera Club, as our four boy friends
called themselves, and his ambition to secure striking scenes, with wild
game in the center of the stage, had already led him into quite a few
scrapes, just as it would again when the opportunity presented itself.

"But what I have told you isn't quite all," remarked Frank presently,
when the chatter of voices allowed him a chance to get in a few words
edgewise.

"What else have you got up your sleeve?" demanded Bluff.

"Yes, confess everything, and perhaps we'll forgive you," came from
Will.

"Well, I've had a letter." And Frank held something up.

"From that old side partner of Jesse Wilcox, the trapper whose camp we
used to visit during our fall hunt?" cried Jerry.

Frank nodded his head.

"And what does he say? Hurry up, and tell. Can't you see that Bluff,
here, will be overboard? He's leaning so far over the side that the
water is ready to pour in over the gunwale. Will Martin Mabie take us
out?" asked Jerry.

"He says he will be glad to do so, for old friendship's sake. I'm to
wire when to expect us, and leave the rest to him," Frank explained.

"I hope he has told you what we are to fetch along. We've done some
hunting, fellows, in our time, but that sort of thing, with big game in
prospect, calls for heavier gear. None of your repeating shotguns need
apply this trip, Bluff, you understand?"

Jerry could never become wholly reconciled to the modern gun Bluff
owned. He professed to be such a clean sportsman that he always believed
in giving the game a chance, and declared it to be next door to murder
to have six shots in hand when hunting birds. With big game, it was all
right, because then a fellow's life might often be in danger.

"Oh, Martin Mabie has written quite a long letter. He seems to be an
educated man, and not at all the brand we figured out from hearing Jesse
talk about him. Boys, we can now lay our plans, and make a start inside
of a week," declared Frank.

"Isn't it just great? Did ever a set of grads get such a chance for fun
as this?"

"I don't believe they ever did, or ever will, Bluff. And our folks have
been mighty good to give us this glorious opportunity to enjoy an outing
such as we've hankered after for a year, remember that, fellows,"
remarked Frank seriously.

"You can just wager that I make it a point to let the pater know my
sentiments. He's the best dad going, and I mean to make him proud of me
some day. But tell us more about it, Frank. Where is Martin Mabie to
meet us, and what does he tell us to fetch along?"

"I'm not going to say another word, Jerry, until we get to the
clubhouse, when every one of you can have a chance to read his letter,"
remarked Frank as he prepared to cast off and throw his sails to the
breeze again.

"A week, did you say? Oh! what a long time to wait!" groaned Bluff.

"Still, there are lots of things to be done. I think it may be necessary
for one of us to run down to the city to lay in some things in the way
of ammunition, and a few articles of clothing for mountain wear."

"Then we'll appoint you as a committee of one to see to such traps,
Frank," called Jerry as the other shot away with the wind, his canoe
gliding over the little wavelets like a phantom craft.

Frank smiled. It was certainly nice to know that his chums felt such
sincere confidence in him at all times. There was nothing he would not
do to give them pleasure.

So the three cedar boats were soon heading for the clubhouse, and while
they are thus employed it might be well for us to understand just who
these chums were, and what they had been doing in the past to make them
such firm friends.

Frank was from Maine, but his father, a banker, had come to Centerville
a few years back; and among all the boys attending the Academy Frank had
soon picked out as his especial friends these three, Will Milton, Jerry
Wallingford and Bluff Masters.

After the Rod, Gun and Camera Club had been formed they had taken their
first outing, using their motorcycles to reach the woods beyond the head
of the lake. What befell them on this occasion has been told in the
first volume of this series, called "The Outdoor Chums; or, The First
Tour of the Rod, Gun and Camera Club."

Later on, a storm having done considerable damage at the school, they
were given an unexpected fall vacation, and the chums decided to spend
it on Wildcat Island, situated at the foot of the lake. There were
several strange things connected with this island, such as a mysterious
wild man who had been seen there; and besides, it was shunned because of
the fierce bobcats that had possession. How our boys camped on this
island, and what wonderful adventures they met with there, can be
learned by reading the second volume, entitled "The Outdoor Chums on the
Lake; or, Lively Adventures on Wildcat Island."

When the Easter holidays came around they had laid out another charming
campaign. This was nothing more nor less than an expedition to Oak
Ridge, that lay some ten miles back from the lake, amid the Sunset
Mountains. Report had it that there was a real ghost to be seen there,
and the boys were bent on discovering the truth of this weird story. It
can be easily understood that they must have had a glorious time on that
trip, viewed from the standpoint of an eager, adventure-loving boy. But
the story is set down in full in the third volume, and you can read it
for yourselves in "The Outdoor Chums in the Forest; or, Laying the Ghost
of Oak Ridge."

No further long jaunts came the way of the quartet during the school
term, up to the Christmas holidays, when they received permission to
undertake a trip to the Sunny South. Just how this came about, and what
wonders they saw and experienced on a Florida river, as well as upon
the great Mexican Gulf, have been told in the fourth book of the series,
called "The Outdoor Chums on the Gulf; or, Rescuing the Lost
Balloonists."

And now it seemed as though, less than six months later, they were ready
to embark on what promised to be the most exciting trip of all, a visit
to the wilderness of the great Northwest, in search of big game.

Reaching the clubhouse, they quickly stowed their boats away. From this
time on there would probably be scant time for aquatic sports. The
tremendous undertaking they had in view would, very likely, occupy all
their spare moments.

"Now let's have that letter, Frank. We want to con it so that every word
will be photographed on our brains from this time on. Didn't old Jesse
say that Martin Mabie was a big stockman now, and had really quit being
a guide and hunter? Then it's mighty kind of him to undertake to convoy
a raft of tenderfeet into the wilderness. Money didn't enter into it,
that's sure," said Bluff.

"He mentions having had a long letter from Jesse," remarked Frank.

"That settles it, then. Our good old friend has been telling him
everything we ever did, and got him interested. We must make it a point
to run up and see Jesse before we go, and thank him."

"You're right about that, Jerry," said Frank warmly. "I was thinking the
same, myself. But here's the letter. Read it for yourselves."

Various were the comments after this had been done.

"Talk to me about your good fellows! That Martin Mabie stands in a class
of his own," observed Jerry. "Think of him offering to take us into the
mountains for weeks, and see that we have the time of our lives! And he
warns us not to mention the word money to him unless we want to break up
the game. I sure am anxious to shake hands with that same friend of old
Jesse."

"I move we start up there right now and see Jesse. The day is fine, and
when can we spare the time better?" suggested Will, who secretly wanted
just another chance to try a snapshot of the queer cabin which the
trapper occupied.

"Second the motion!" cried Bluff eagerly.

"I'm some cramped, myself, from sitting so long in that canoe. Perhaps a
run on our motorcycles might give me relief. So I say go," came from
Jerry.

Frank himself believed it would be a good idea. He knew that once they
started making preparations for their Western trip nothing was apt to
tear them away.

"All right, boys. It's going to be a full moon to-night. Suppose we stop
over and have a parting supper with Jesse? He'd be dreadfully tickled at
the notion. Tell your folks at home, and meet me at the Forks in not
more than half an hour."

Frank hustled the others out of the boathouse, locked the door, and then
the four chums hastened to their various homes.

Ere the half hour was up they came together at the forks of the road,
just out of Centerville. Frank was first on hand, as usual, but even
laggard Will showed up on time, camera and all.

In single file, and with a little space separating them, they started
off, the motors soon popping merrily as the boys entered into the spirit
of the occasion.

The air was fresh as they sped along the dusty road. The leader was ever
ready to signal a slow-down in case they met a farmer with a load of
hay, going to market, or any other vehicle. This was rendered necessary
because the cloud of dust might blind the eyes of those who came after,
and a collision be the result.

In this fashion they arrived at the lumber camp, which was deserted at
this time of year. From there on the pace had to be slowed down, for the
road was only used by logging teams, and hardly suitable for
motorcycles.

They were plugging along, each keeping his eyes open for obstacles apt
to present themselves, such as roots cropping up above the surface, when
the leader gave a sudden toot upon the little horn attached to his
machine that warned the others a stop was imperative.




CHAPTER II

THE MOTORCYCLE THIEVES


"What's gone wrong, Frank?" demanded Bluff, dropping off his seat.

"In luck again, for I'd have banged up against that big root if Frank
hadn't given the signal just then," chuckled Will, holding up his
machine.

"A puncture, Frank?" demanded Jerry, who had been in the rear.

"Not at all. I thought I heard some one shouting. Perhaps I was
mistaken, for with a lot of motors popping away it's hard to be sure.
Still, we can stop for a minute and listen," remarked Frank seriously.

"Shouting--for help?" repeated Will, looking around nervously.

"That's queer," cried Bluff, "that we seldom go out anywhere but what
somebody calls on us for assistance. Think of it! There was the town
bully, Andy Lasher, who was caught under that falling tree in the storm,
and rescued by Jerry."

"That's a fact; and then there was Jed, the bound boy, you remember,
fellows," went on Will eagerly.

"Not to mention the saving of the aeronaut from the burning hotel by
Frank, here; and last, but not least, our giving that little Joe the
glad hand down South," observed Jerry, joining in with enthusiasm.

"Yes, but there are a few rescues you seem to forget, Jerry. How about
that time when the wild dogs had you chasing around the tree?" asked
Bluff, grinning.

"Oh, that isn't in the same class. You forget that I got out of that
scrape by my own exertions," replied the other.

"But there was another time when we hauled you out of a hollow tree in
which you found yourself caged. You didn't crawl out of there alone and
unaided, if I remember right," persisted Will.

"Some things are better buried in oblivion. You and your camera want to
remind a fellow constantly of events that ought to be forgotten. But
Frank, that must have been an owl you heard. I haven't caught any call
for help yet."

"Perhaps we'd better go on, then. Look out how you mount here, for it's
a hard proposition, Jerry, with these roots and stones."

Frank had just started to move forward with his own motorcycle, when
all of them heard a sound issuing from the woods alongside the "tote"
road.

"Help! help!"

They looked at each other.

"Somebody's in trouble there. Who can it be?" said Frank as he leaned
his machine up against a tree, as though eager to hasten to the
assistance of the one who had cried out.

"No hunters around at this time of year," remarked Will as he followed
suit.

"And the loggers have been gone some months," went on Bluff.

"Tell me about that, now! It wasn't a child's voice, or I might think a
kid had got lost up here. Perhaps some man has cut himself badly with
his ax," suggested Jerry.

"Or dropped down into some old abandoned mine shaft," spoke up Frank,
with a wink toward Will; for one of the chums had gone through with just
such an experience during one of their outings, and had to be rescued.

"Shall we all go?" demanded Bluff, given to caution.

"Why not? Nothing can happen to our machines here. For one, I decline to
stay out of the rescuing party. Besides, perhaps I may get a chance to
snap off a lovely picture of the Good Samaritans at work."

Will had hastily unfastened his camera, and held it in his hands as he
spoke.

"All right, then. Come on, boys!"

With these words, Frank led the way into the woods.

"Sure the sound came from this direction?" asked Bluff.

"That was my impression. What do you say, Jerry?" and Frank turned to
the chum on whose knowledge of woodcraft he felt he could rely.

"Straight in there. You're heading all right, Frank," he replied.

"How far did it seem to be?" went on the leader.

"That is hard to say. The man may have been weakened from loss of blood.
If he was shouting, then it may have been several hundred yards, perhaps
a quarter of a mile off; but I think we'll come across him closer than
that."

"I agree with you, Jerry," said Frank, stopping short.

"What did you hear?" demanded the other, for Frank had bent his head,
and seemed to be listening over his shoulder.

"I don't know. Perhaps it was a bush springing back into place after our
passage. But suppose we shout occasionally? It may encourage the poor
fellow, and besides, guide us to where he lies," returned Frank, once
more pushing on.

Accordingly they lifted up their voices and gave a series of calls.

"Why doesn't he answer us?" asked Will, astonished when only the echoes
came back from the surrounding forest.

Frank stopped in his tracks.

"Can he have fainted from loss of blood?" said Bluff, still having in
mind a picture of a woodsman who had severed an artery by a misblow of
his ax.

"There's Frank listening again, and he seems to be paying more attention
to our rear than ahead," remarked Will, puzzled.

"I bet you he thinks somebody is playing us for a lot of fools; that
there isn't any one hurt, or in need of help at all. What's that?"

The distinct and well-known "popping" of a motor was heard.

"It's a trick, fellows! Somebody is meddling with our machines! Back to
the road!" shouted Jerry, turning and plunging through the under-brush
recklessly.

A wild scramble followed. The four chums were so excited, and filled
with a determination to stop the unknown miscreants from making way
with their machines, that they gave little heed to their steps. The
consequence was that more than once a collision with a tree ensued, and
various bumps afterward gave mute evidence as to the reckless manner of
their chase.

"There's two of 'em!" shrieked Will from the rear, as he caught the
sound of a second series of erratic poppings.

Evidently those who were meddling with the motorcycles did not have a
thorough knowledge of how to work the same, for the sounds would
suddenly cease and then start up again.

"Oh! don't I wish they'd just take headers over some nice fat root!"
gasped the perspiring Will, still hugging his precious camera to his
heart as he followed in Frank's wake.

The latter had made for the road in as direct a line as possible.
Progress was bound to be slow through the dense undergrowth, and the
sooner they struck the open the quicker they could hope to gain on the
thieves.

In this fashion they came upon the road at last. Of course, their eyes
immediately turned down its sinuous way to the quarter whence the
excitable popping sounds still continued to come.

The sight that met their eyes amazed them. All of the chums had
naturally expected that they would discover some mischievous school
companions, who, seeing them coming, had hatched up this little game
with the intention of playing a practical joke.

Nothing of the kind. On the contrary, they saw two of the motorcycles
bobbing along in the most erratic manner possible, moving from one side
of the rough road to the other, and mounted on the same were a couple of
roughly dressed men, either tramps, or journeymen on the road looking
for a job.

"Tell me about that, will you!" gasped Jerry.

"Why, the blooming idiots mean to steal our machines!" cried Bluff.

"Oh! what luck that I thought to take my camera with me!" came from
Will.

Frank only made one remark, but it was characteristic of the boy:

"After them, fellows!"

Then began a mad chase. Had the road been half-way decent, the boys
would have had no chance of overtaking the thieves; but those exposed
roots, while not bothersome to the lumbermen, proved extremely so to the
men who were trying to make off with the motorcycles.

They dared not put on great speed. More than this, much of their time
was taken up with dodging the stones and other things that threatened to
bring sudden disaster upon them.

Hence it was that the boys, having considerable sprinting ability,
began to rapidly overhaul the fleeing rascals. The two men dared not
cast a single glance behind, and consequently the only means they had of
knowing how close their pursuers might be would lie in any shouts given
by Frank and his chums.

As he ran, the leading boy cast an occasional look alongside the path.
He was in search of a good stout cudgel. Knowing that the chances were
the affair would presently come to a face-to-face issue between the two
parties, he wished to be prepared as well as possible.

"Bully stunt!" exclaimed Jerry as he followed suit.

They were now drawing close upon the fugitives, who were having a
nerve-racking time dodging those numerous roots.

Knowing that the angry owners of the wheels must be close upon them, the
men endeavored to increase their speed, with disastrous results.

"Wow!" shouted Jerry, as he saw one of the riders suddenly shoot out of
his saddle and take a header, to be followed by his companion a second
later.




CHAPTER III

HOMEWARD BOUND, BY MOONLIGHT


"Jump 'em!" shouted Frank as he threw himself upon the first fellow,
floundering in the road.

"I'm on!" echoed Jerry, suiting the action to the words by propelling
himself straight at the second motorcycle thief.

This fellow happened to have come through his fall without getting hurt.
The consequence was, he felt disposed to put up a much better fight than
his confused companion, upon whose prostrate form Frank had straddled.

He rolled over once or twice with remarkable agility, causing Jerry to
miss his guess when he thought to drop on him. Then, scrambling to his
knees, the man, who turned out to be a rough-looking chap, indeed,
pulled something out of his pocket, which he aimed at the two boys about
to pounce upon him.

"Keep back, you!" he roared, his mouth being half filled with dirt after
he had plowed up the earth of the roadway with his face.

"He's got a pistol!" shrieked Will, who was fingering his camera
nervously from a point somewhat in the rear; and they immediately heard
the little suggestive click that announced the pressure of a finger on
the trigger.

Bluff was the quick-witted one on this occasion. He had his stick
upraised at the time, ready to strike. Instead, he sent it from him
suddenly with all his power, and as the cudgel was no light one, when it
struck the extended arm of the kneeling thief the shock was so great
that the shining object he had been gripping was hurled about five feet
away.

Jerry instantly took occasion to possess himself of the same. The man
was nursing his wounded arm and muttering to himself, his face screwed
up with pain.

"Talk to me about your quick work! What could beat that, fellows?" cried
Jerry as he stood over the grunting and disgusted rascal who had
attempted to hold them off.

"What had we better do with 'em?" asked Bluff, frowning at the several
scratches upon his machine caused by the accident.

"Any damage done?" asked Frank.

"Well, this man here has a sore arm, I guess; and the one you're sitting
on looks as if his face might be a map, from the scratches," replied
Jerry.

"Oh! I mean the machines," laughed Frank.

"Nothing serious here. How about yours, Will?" answered Bluff.

"Mine seems to be all right. They weren't going fast enough to cause a
real wreck. A little paint will fix it up," was the answer Will made.

"Do you know either of these fellows?" went on Frank.

The boys took a better look at the men.

"Why, the one with the scratched face is Hank Brady, I'm sure. He used
to live in Centerville. The other is a stranger to me," remarked Bluff.

"Well, I've seen him before. He was working in the office of the town
paper as a tramp compositor a week ago. I suppose he got uneasy, and
wanted to be on the move again, and seeing a fine chance for hooking a
couple of motorcycles, they yielded to temptation. If we took them back
they'd be locked up for this little job," observed Frank sternly.

"I hope you won't do anything of the kind, kids," said the fellow whose
arm had been stung by Bluff's stick. "We only wanted to have a lark with
you. Sure you don't think we'd be fools enough to run away with such
valuable things as them motorcycles, when the telephone would get us at
the next town? It was done for fun, but I reckon we paid the piper, all
right," and he scowled at Bluff as he spoke, nursing his arm as though
it were still painful.

Frank laughed. He was not of a vindictive nature. Besides, it did seem
as though the two fellows had been punished enough already.

"No matter, it was a mean trick, and you deserve all you got. Get up,
Hank. You took a lovely cropper that time. Where did you learn how to
run a motorcycle?" he asked, helping the prisoner to his feet.

"I was a chauffeur a little time back. Sure we never thought to run off
with the gas-wheels. Saw you comin' along, and Flimsy said it would be a
good joke to make you fellers think somebody was sick in the woods.
Then, when we seen you all go by, I said to him, 'Let's run a couple of
them machines down the road a bit, just to tease the boys.' Flimsy he
rode one once in his travels, and so we jumped on. The rest is history,
and I got the map that goes along with it, on me face."

"What say, boys? Shall we let it pass?" asked Frank, winking at his
chums.

Jerry, for reply, started to fire the revolver he held, until the
entire six shots had been discharged.

"Here! Take your gun, mister, and next time don't be so quick to pull it
on a stranger. Think what would happen to you if you'd fired and hit one
of us? Some time you may even be glad that Bluff, here, was so quick
with his stick."

He handed the empty weapon over to the tramp printer, who let his head
fall, as though really ashamed of his action.

The boys started back to where the other machines had been left, while
the two men slunk into the shelter of the woods, to patch up their hurts
as best they might.

"Say! that was a queer ending to a rescue, wasn't it?" asked Bluff.

"I only hope my picture comes out all right. It ought to show Frank
sitting on top of Hank, while Bluff and Jerry surround the other tramp,
who is on his knees, aiming his old gun. Then my machine is lying there.
Fellows, what need of words to explain what happened?" chuckled the
gratified Will.

Whenever he succeeded in securing a coveted picture the ardent
photographer was the happiest boy in the county. His pleasure caused him
to fairly bubble over with good nature.

"Tell me about that, will you!" said Jerry, pretending to scorn such an
exhibition of joy over so trivial a matter. "Why, you'd think the chap
had knocked over some big game, to hear him chatter."

"And so he had," declared Frank quickly, "according to his light. All of
us are not made alike, Jerry. One man's food is poison to another. You
and I are fond of fishing and shooting, but Will is more of an artist.
He delights in stalking the timid deer in the close season, and shooting
him with his camera. Lots of people believe his way of securing pleasure
beats ours all hollow."

"Anyhow, it doesn't thin out the game," asserted Will stoutly.

Jerry stopped short to turn a look of pity on his comrade.

"Think how hungry we'd all go out in camp if we depended on your blessed
old box for supper," he suggested witheringly.

"All very true," remarked Frank as they reached the other motorcycles,
and prepared to continue their interrupted journey to the camp of the
trapper; "which is proof of what I say, that many men, many minds.
There's room for all kinds in a party."

"Yes; and nobody likes to look over my prints more than Jerry," grumbled
Will, feeling quite offended.

"Don't pay any attention to him. He doesn't mean anything by it. You
know how he likes to joke every one. Now, we're off again, boys."

Once more they made their way along the rough road. The sight of those
two unfortunates sprawling upon the ground was a lesson, warning the
riders against trying for speed under such conditions, so they made
haste slowly.

Upon arriving at the cabin home of the trapper they surprised him very
much; and when Jesse Wilcox learned the object of their visit he was
more pleased than ever.

They spent some hours with him, and even assisted in getting the evening
meal. From their long experience now the boys had become quite
proficient in this line, and were able to show old Jesse quite a few
tricks that delighted him.

With the campfire blazing merrily, they ate supper alongside his rough
cabin home. Of course, they fairly deluged him with questions about the
habits of the big game of the West, which he answered to the best of his
ability.

"Wait till we get out with Martin Mabie, fellows. He's on the ground,
and can set us straight. Jesse has been trapping these little animals
around here so long now he's a back number," joked Jerry, at which the
trapper laughed, for he was very fond of these four lads, and nothing
they said annoyed him.

As they had planned, the run home was made by moonlight. This
necessitated that they walk with their machines until the good road was
gained, below the lumber camp.

"I wonder whether those two tramps hit the high places, and got out of
this neighborhood for keeps?" Bluff was saying, after they had mounted
and were bowling along merrily toward town.

"The chances are that way. That tramp printer must be a bad sort of
chap, it seems to me, and if Hank keeps along in his society I can see
his finish," answered Jerry over his shoulder.

They had not made more than a mile when once more Frank gave a quick
toot of his horn that brought the little procession up in a hurry.

"What ails us now?" demanded Bluff.

"Frank's bending over something in the road, as sure as you live!"
called Will.

"Tell me about that, will you! Seems as if our lively times haven't
stopped yet. It never rains but it pours, fellows. Hi! Frank, what's the
matter? Say! Would you believe it? There's a man lying in the road!"

Jerry made haste to push his heavy motorcycle forward so as to reach the
side of his kneeling chum.

"It's Hank Brady, boys, and he seems to be in a bad way. Something has
happened to him since we saw him last," said Frank, looking up.

"Goodness gracious! Is he dead?" gasped Will, his eyes dilating in
horror.

"I don't know yet, but I'm going to find out," replied Frank, bending
over so that he could press his ear upon the breast of the man in the
road.

"And that tramp printer, where's he at?" asked Jerry suggestively. "Tell
me that, will you?"




CHAPTER IV

STARTING HANK RIGHT


"He's alive, all right!" was the announcement of Frank presently.

"I hear water close by. Hold on, and I'll get some," said Will hurrying
away.

Even Jerry was desirous of helping as best he could. He took hold with
Frank, and the insensible Hank was carried alongside the road, to where
some grass grew, and offered a softer resting place.

Had it been a friend who was thus in need of succor, they could hardly
have shown more energy in attending to his wants.

"He's coming to," said Bluff after Frank had sprinkled the scratched
face with some of the cold water.

There was a deep sigh, then Frank saw that the fellow's eyes had opened,
and were surveying him with a troubled stare.

"Feeling better, Hank?" he asked quietly.

"Oh, I'm all right, I reckon. What brought you fellows here? Where am
I, anyhow? Did I just drop off that motorcycle? No. I remember, now.
Flimsy took the last cent I had while I lay in the road. The meanest
skunk I ever met up with. If ever he crosses my path again I'll get even
with the cur," he growled, sitting up and holding a hand to his head.

"What happened to you, Hank? Why were you lying in the road? Did you
have a fight with that tramp printer?" asked Frank, suspecting the
truth.

"Yes. I told him I was sick of keeping with him. He's a bad one, and
some fine day he'll land in the stone jug. He scared me the way he
talked. I started to tramp back home, and he kept nagging me all the way
here. In the end he made me so mad I just tackled him. That was what he
wanted. Why, he put me to sleep the easiest way you ever saw. I just
remember him fumbling in my pockets before he hoofed it."

"Well, it was a lucky thing for you, Hank, after all. If you'd kept with
that rascal you'd soon have been just like him. Did you say you meant to
go back home now?"

"That's what I meant to do, but he's fixed it so I can't," muttered the
other, grinding his teeth in fury.

"How's that?" pursued Frank, believing there must be a story back of
his words.

"He took the ten dollars I stole from my dad. I won't never dare face
him and say I lost it. I thought I could put it back in the bureau
drawer, and he'd never know. I'll have to foller that Flimsy, and make
him give it back."

"You can't do that for he'd only laugh at you, and perhaps beat you
again."

"The thief ought to be arrested," grumbled Bluff indignantly.

"That would blow the whole thing, you see, and dad he'd know I grabbed
it. I'm gettin' all I ought to have, I reckon. P'raps I might earn that
ten some way, and hand it over. If I could only get another job as
chauffeur it'd be all right," Hank Brady was mumbling to himself
dejectedly.

"Perhaps you can," said Frank quickly. "I remember, now, that our man
had to go away suddenly the day before yesterday. Look here, Hank! Do
you really mean to do the right thing now? Have you had your lesson
pounded into you?"

"I sure have. Never again for me, I give you my word. I guess my folks
has been worried some on my account, but they don't need to any more.
I've reformed, I have. I'm goin' to walk a straight line after this."

The fellow spoke as though he meant it, and Frank believed he could
detect the ring of sincerity in his voice.

"All right. Shake hands on that, Hank. Don't you forget it, that you'll
find plenty of fellows willing to give you a lift, just as quickly as
some others want to give you a drag down. It all depends on where the
other chap is standing himself. You come and see me to-morrow, some
time. I'm Frank Langdon, and my father is the president of the First
National Bank."

"This is mighty white of you, fellers," muttered the other, apparently
ashamed.

"You can never pay it back to us, Hank, but some time pass it along;
hold out a helping hand to some other poor chap in trouble. I guess if
you know how to run a car decently you will get the job, if I speak to
my dad. Now, another thing--that ten dollars you wanted to put back, was
it in one bill?"

"Two fives," replied Hank, catching his breath.

"Then perhaps we can fix it up. I've got one here. Jerry, can you help
me out?" asked Frank, who believed in doing the whole thing, once he
started.

"Just happen to have it, by good luck," replied the other cheerfully.

"Say! that's too much, fellers--an' after I played that mean trick,
too!"

"Don't worry about that. I'm not giving you this, Hank, only loaning it
to you. You can pay it back out of your first month's salary. Here you
are, and don't think for a minute that you're getting the best of all
this. We're enjoying it, in our own way, more than you ever can. See you
to-morrow, then. Good-night, Hank!"

They left the fellow standing there, quite dumb. He had tried to answer
them as they rode off, but not a sound could he utter.

"Talk to me about the queer things that crop up with us, will you!"
laughed Jerry as he kept close at Frank's heels. "Did you ever really
hear the equal of that, now?"

"Oh, it's an old story. The only decent thing about it is the fact that
of his own free will Hank was breaking away from his evil associations
and heading back home, when he met with this last trouble. I say,
Bluff!"

"Hello, Frank! What is it?" came from the rear, where the party
addressed was following in the wake of his chums.

"How about Hank? Do you know if he ever played chauffeur half-way
decent? I'd hate to risk the pater's neck with a greenhorn."

"Come to think of it, he used to run old Cragin's car for quite some
time. Had an accident, and was discharged; but some people said Hank
wasn't to blame; that it came about because the old man was too stingy
to buy the right kind of tires, and always picked up job lots."

"Glad to hear it. He won't have that fault to find with the governor.
Well, here we separate, fellows. To-morrow morning, at the boathouse,
about eight, to lay our plans and arrange for the trip to the city."

With a cheery good-night the chums separated, and each headed for his
home.

In the morning they once more came together, and for some hours there
was an earnest talk, during which many ideas were put forward, and order
gradually took the place of chaos.

A knock at the door took Frank thither, for he suspected who the visitor
might prove to be, as he had left word at home to send Hank Brady there,
if he called. Hank was now decently dressed, and his face did not look
so very bad, though it bore a number of scratches.

"All right, Hank. I'm going with you to the bank. My father knows all
about it, for I thought it best to start square, so that you need not
fear about his finding out anything about your past," he said, shaking
hands with the other.

"And he don't give me the shake on that account?" asked Hank eagerly.

"Of course he doesn't. He even said that what we did was right, and that
he could look back to a day in his boyhood when a kind word started him
along the straight and narrow path. My dad's the right sort, Hank. Serve
him decently, and you'll never want a better friend. But at the same
time he hates deceit, and will not put up with a sneak. You've got the
chance of your life to make good."

"And I'm going to make good, all right, or bust tryin'. I'll never get
over the white way you fellers acted with me, never, if I live a hundred
years!" said Hank in a broken voice.

Frank took him over to the bank, where Mr. Langdon was favorably
impressed with his looks, and engaged him, after he had learned what he
knew about the running of a car. Hank had worked in a garage for a year,
and this knowledge was invaluable to him in his business as a chauffeur.

That afternoon Frank and Bluff started for the city, with a list of
things they believed should be purchased before they went forth upon
their journey. Bluff had in mind a wonderful hunting-knife, with an
ivory handle, a picture of which he had seen in the catalogue of a
sporting goods house, and he was secretly determined to possess such a
magnificent tool.

"The time might come when a fellow would have only his trusty blade
between himself and death, and then you just bet he wants a good one.
Think of a big grizzly trying to hug you! Where would your little knife
be, then? You'd soon wish you had that Cuban machete that hangs on the
wall of your father's den, Frank," he said, when the other expostulated
with him about purchasing such a murderous-looking weapon.

And Bluff did buy it, too. All the way home he kept tabs on that
package, and often, when Frank was not looking, he would go through
certain gestures with it gripped in his hand, as though practicing
against that day when the aforesaid grizzly and he would have their
little heated argument for supremacy.

Jerry, too, either felt shocked at the enormous size of the wonderful
hunting-knife, or else pretended to be. He shrugged his shoulders in
that scornful way he had, and turned his back on the prize Bluff had
drawn.

"What else could you expect of a man who goes after quail with a Gatling
gun? Why, the poor innocent grizzly will faint dead away at sight of
that cavalry sword. It gives me a cold chill just to look at it," he
observed.

Bluff only laughed.

"Rank envy eating up your soul, that's all, my boy. Wait till you see me
in action with that razor-edged tool. I'll have you all turning green
with envy yet," he said, fondling the ivory-handled weapon ere he thrust
it back into its sheath.

The days dragged along. Will counted them, and each night heaved a sigh
of relief that they were a notch nearer the time of departure. Finally
the last night arrived, and their coming tour was to be marked by a
little gathering at the home of Frank, which was intended to be in the
way of a send-off.




CHAPTER V

WESTWARD BOUND


There were just eight people gathered together that evening to have a
good time. Besides Nellie Langdon, of course, Will's twin sister,
Violet, graced the occasion with her presence; then there came Mame
Crosby, the vivacious girl with the auburn locks, who was so fond of
teasing Jerry; and last, but not least, pretty Susie Prescott, a dainty,
prim little blonde, whom Will considered a bundle of sweetness.

What a splendid time this congenial little company had! For many a day
the memory of it would follow the four chums while far away.

All of the "material of war," as Mame called it, had been brought to
Frank's house, so that it might be packed in one big trunk. Thus the
boys would be bothered with only a suitcase and a gun apiece in the long
journey across the continent.

The girls insisted upon being shown the wonderful aggregation of
clothing and weapons. It was to them very much like a shopping
expedition, and many were the exclamations of awe and curiosity as they
looked upon the exhibition.

Bluff, of course, was very proud of that wonderful hunting-knife of his.
He even smiled to see the perceptible shudder with which Nellie surveyed
him as he cut imaginary circles in the air with the keen-edged weapon.

"Oh! I hope you won't have to use it very often, Bluff! It makes me
shiver just to think of you meeting one of those fierce grizzly bears,
such as I have seen in the menagerie," she said confidentially to him.

"But you wouldn't have me leave this jewel at home, would you, Nellie?"
he asked in dismay.

"Oh, no! Not for the world!--since you say that perhaps your very life
may depend on having it; but please, Bluff, be very careful. You might
cut yourself by accident, you know, and then--well, your mother and
father would grieve so much if anything happened to you."

"Well, would you care?" asked Bluff boldly.

Nellie gave him an arch look and ran down-stairs, as she said that she
was needed just then to superintend the placing of the refreshments on
the table. Bluff laid the wonderful hunting-knife, sheath and all, back
on the stand where his things were gathered, and smiled as if pleased.
He had occasion, later on, to recall each little incident of that
evening, when worrying his mind over a most mysterious thing that
puzzled him.

The little company separated about eleven, for the boys expected to
leave home long ere noon on the following day, and had a strenuous
journey before them.

After an early breakfast they gathered at Frank's, where the last
packing was done in hot haste, as the time was short. So it happened
that none of them had more than a confused idea of what was done during
that last hour, save that, some way or other, their things were crammed
into the big trunk.

"We should have taken two, hang it!" grunted Bluff as he tugged at the
metal catches, while a couple of his mates sat on top to induce the lid
to come down.

"There! It's all right now!" cried Will, as the click of the catch
announced the desired union.

So the trunk was snatched up by the waiting men and carried off, to be
taken to the station. Frank and his chums quickly followed. Quite a
gathering of relatives and friends were on hand to see them off.

Frank was taking a last look into the automobile, to make sure nothing
had been forgotten, when Hank Brady, who seemed to be making good with
his job, plucked at his sleeve.

"Hello! Came near forgetting to say good-by to you, Hank! Hope you get
on fine and dandy while I'm gone," said the boy, holding out his hand.

"Thank you, Mr. Frank; but I only wanted to say a few words to you about
a brother of mine who is out there somewhere, we believe. Now, I know
the Northwest is a big place, and you might as well think of lookin' for
a needle in a haystack as for a certain feller there; but accidents do
happen, and by some sorter luck you might just happen to run across
Teddy," said Hank quickly, and with a wistful look on his face that held
Frank's attention.

"And if I do, what then?" he asked softly.

"Tell him his mother's still a-grievin' after him. You see, he is her
baby, though a big feller for his age, which is seventeen about. He left
us in a huff two years back. We heard in an indirect way several times,
but never straight. She worries when she thinks nobody is a-lookin'. If
Teddy would only write to her I think she'd be kinder reconciled," went
on Hank, heaving a deep sigh.

"All right. If by any good luck I happen to run across your brother, you
can depend on it I'll do my best to make him write. But how am I to
know him among the thousands of people I meet?" remarked Frank as he was
about to turn away.

"Well, he has--"

Just then some one pounced on Frank, and dragged him off, so that he
never really knew how he was to recognize this wandering brother of Hank
Brady in case he should meet him.

The train was almost due, and general good-bys were quickly said. Such a
chattering as ensued, which kept up until the four chums climbed into
the car that was to take them to the nearest city, where they would
board the through train for the Northwest.

After the last glimpse of their loved ones had been lost by a sudden
bend in the road, they settled down to making themselves comfortable. It
was expected that they would make connection in St. Paul with the
western through train bound for Seattle. Then would begin the grandest
ride on the whole American continent, over boundless plains, and finally
up into the majestic mountains.

Day and night they would be carried swiftly onward across the many miles
of entrancing scenery. Wonderful sights would fall to their portion.

St. Paul was reached in due season, and once more they started forth,
this time headed west, with the hunting-land beckoning them on.

"Tell me about this, will you!" remarked Jerry, after they had crossed
the broad prairies and were climbing the tremendous heights that lie
like a barrier between the center of the continent and the Pacific
Slope. "How much more of it do we have before us, Frank? I'm getting so
filled with wonder and awe that my tongue is getting into a rut with
saying 'Ah!' so much."

"Less than a day will see us through now. Once we get over this range
there lies a long valley, and in that is where Martin Mabie has his
ranch."

"Then we'll do our hunting along the sides of the mountains?" suggested
Will, who had used up nearly half his supply of films already, taking
views of the wonderful things they saw on the trip.

"That's my impression, from what he wrote," replied Frank.

"And he also said game was fairly plentiful, if I remember aright,"
remarked Jerry.

"Well, he did say that they had been so busy of late on the ranch that
no one had had time for hunting, and consequently the game had not been
bothered very much; which, I suppose, amounts to the same thing."

"H'm! I hope he won't be so rushed with work that he can't take the time
to go with us. Half of the fun would be lost if Mr. Mabie couldn't be
along; for Jesse says he is the most entertaining man alive," grunted
Bluff.

"Oh, you forget that he said by the time we got there the work would
slacken up, and he promised himself a vacation, just to renew his old
pleasure of camping out in the wilderness, away from all mankind,"
laughed Frank.

"That relieves my mind some," declared Bluff, brightening up.

"You're getting tired of all this travel, that's what ails you," said
Jerry.

"No; it isn't that," remarked Frank. "Bluff has confessed to me that for
the life of him he can't remember putting that beautiful hunting-knife
in the trunk along with his other traps; and if he left _that_ behind,
half his pleasure would be lost. Now you know what's the matter."

"Not that I wish it to be so, but if such should prove to be the case,
there'll be one delighted grizzly bear out in these same mountains--the
chap Bluff calculated on carving with that big sticker," remarked Jerry
jocosely.

But Bluff would not even smile. Truth to tell, he was counting the
hours until he could open that trunk and relieve his distressed mind.

"Did you ever see a wilder bit of country?" said Frank, peering out into
the gathering dusk, and trying to imagine those wooded hillsides
populated with elk and buffaloes, and all the big game of the past, when
a white man was never known west of the Great Lakes.

"Well, to tell the truth, I was thinking of that account I read in the
paper we bought, about the work of a sheriff's posse in this region,
chasing the bad men who held up a railroad train not a hundred miles
away from here. It wouldn't be a pleasant experience for us to meet
with, eh, fellows?" asked Will, who was known to have a timid streak in
his make-up.

"Talk to me about your croakers!" jeered Jerry. "Will, here, is enough
to freeze the marrow in one's bones. There isn't one chance in a
thousand that such an adventure will come our way, and he knows it."

"Goodness! What a jar! The engineer must have thrown the air brakes on
then in a big hurry! We're coming to a sudden stop, too! Oh! I wonder if
anything can have happened? Are we going to have an accident, fellows?"
cried Will.

With much creaking of the wheels the heavy train came to a stop, and at
the same moment the four chums, listening with considerable
apprehension, caught the sound of many loud and excited voices just
outside the car.




CHAPTER VI

AT THE VALLEY RANCH


"Listen!" exclaimed Frank, holding up his hand.

"Talk to me about your Tower of Babel! It wasn't in the same class as
that row. Twenty men trying to talk all at once!" growled Jerry,
starting up.

"Oh! Where are you going?" asked Will.

"Outside, to find out what the trouble is," replied the other.

"But you may get hurt if those bad men start to shooting up the train,"
expostulated the official photographer anxiously.

Jerry gave a hoarse laugh.

"Tell me about that, will you! He actually believes we are going to be
put through a course of 'stand and deliver' by the merry gentlemen of
the road. Why, bless you, my boy, didn't you hear one man say something
about a trestle burning just ahead? It spells delay for us, but that's
the worst of the whole affair."

"Then I'm going out, too," declared Will, with sudden zeal, as he
snatched up his camera and threw the strap over his shoulder.

He scented a chance for a striking picture, and to obtain that Will
would have risked even a possible encounter with train robbers.

Frank and Bluff would not be left behind, and quickly the entire quartet
had reached the platform. They found that the stop was at a little
country station. A signal had suddenly flashed before the eyes of the
engineer, telling him he must not think of running past, which accounted
for the quick work of the compressed-air brakes.

No need to tell what was wrong. Up the track a quarter of a mile could
be seen a fire, and one glance was enough to tell the chums that, just
as Jerry had said, a trestle of some sort seemed to be burning.

Loud shouts attested to the fact that every available man was hurrying
to the scene, in the hope of saving the trestle before it was so far
gone that nothing could be done.

"Come on, fellows! Our train must stay where it is until this thing is
done burning, one way or the other. Perhaps we can help put the fire out
with buckets."

That was the first thought Frank had, to be of some assistance.

The four of them ran with the rest of the passengers. Such a spectacle
could not be witnessed every day, and every one was desirous of getting
closer to the scene of action.

"How did it catch?" asked Frank of a railroad man who was hustling
about, handing buckets to a line of men extending down to the water of
the creek far below.

"Don't know. Perhaps from sparks left by the six-seventeen freight. Lend
a hand here, lads; we need all the help we can get," replied the other.

"Sure! That's what we came for. Get along, boys, and pass these
buckets!" cried Jerry, suiting the action to the words.

Once the string of buckets got to going, and the contents began to be
cast upon the creeping flames, there sprang up a hope that the trestle
might be saved.

Seeing this, the workers redoubled their efforts, and faster rose the
full buckets, the empties going down at the same rate. It is really
astonishing what a large amount of water can be carried by such an
endless chain.

"Hurrah! We're besting it, lads! Keep it up!" shouted the agent, who
was the man Frank had first addressed.

Will had not joined the relay. There seemed to be plenty of recruits
without him, and, truth to tell, he was bent on getting a picture of the
scene. Doubtless many present were startled by a sudden brilliant
illumination as he set off his flashlight cartridge; but those who were
in ignorance as to what it meant were soon set wise by others.

Once they began to get the upper hand of the fire it became easy.
Fortunately, there was not a breath of wind at the time. Had it been
otherwise, no efforts on their part could have saved the trestle.

"I should think they would have them all of steel!" gasped Bluff, as he
labored away, passing endless buckets up and down.

"Most of them are, I understand, but in this case, you see, it is a long
stretch, and perhaps it wasn't thought necessary," replied Frank.

"We're going to save it, all right; but I wonder if our train dare pass
over? It seems to me the fire must have weakened the structure more or
less," remarked Jerry.

"Oh, well, they'll find some means of strengthening it in that case. I'm
only worrying about the delay. Mr. Mabie will have to wait so long."

"But, Frank, they must wire the news, and he will know the reason for
our hold-up," said Will quickly, and the others all agreed that this
must be so.

Less than an hour later the last spark had been extinguished. Then men
climbed all over the trestle to ascertain just how much it had been
weakened by the fire.

There was a difference of opinion among them, some declaring that it was
as good as ever, and the others shaking their heads solemnly, as they
prophesied all manner of dire things if the through train, with its
heavy sleepers, attempted to go over.

While some gangs of men were hastily bracing up a weak spot with what
material lay close at hand, kept for an emergency of this sort, a
freight train that happened to be on a siding at the station, was pushed
out on the trestle to discover how the situation stood.

The chums watched operations with their hearts in their mouths,
figuratively speaking; but no catastrophe followed, and it began to
appear that, after all, the express might pass over in safety.

Another trial was given, this time with the heavy freight engine
attached to some of the largest flats, laden with steel beams. The
trestle bore the strain handsomely.

"That settles it, fellows. Back to our car for us. We're going across!"
sang out Jerry as he turned and made off down the track.

"How long were we here?" asked Bluff, sighing, and they knew he was
thinking again of the weary hours that must elapse ere he could open
that big trunk in order to ascertain whether his fears in connection
with that beloved hunting-knife had any foundation or not.

"Three hours, about. Give them another half hour to get moving, and
there you are. Hark! The engineer has started to whistle. That is to
tell the passengers a start is intended; and here they come, rushing
pell-mell, fearful of getting left." And Frank laughed at the energy
displayed by some of those who had been aboard.

It was a critical time when the train slowly pushed out upon the long
trestle. Everybody doubtless held their breath, and doubtless many a
heart throbbed with suspense.

"It's all right, boys! We're safely over!" exclaimed Jerry, as, looking
out of the open window, he could see that they had passed the critical
stage.

"Oh! I'm so glad! I don't know when I've felt such a flutter about my
heart. But, anyway, I secured a cracking good snapshot of that burning
bridge. Every time we look at it we can remember our hold-up," observed
Will, sighing with relief.

It was now about ten o'clock at night, and on account of the delay,
travel was more or less congested along the line.

Frank, upon making inquiries, learned that they would not arrive at
their destination until about daybreak, and so he and his chums went to
their berths to secure what sleep was possible.

Frank had them up in good time, and long before dawn they were fully
dressed, awaiting the arrival of the train at the valley station with
impatience.

"Another hour now, and then I shall know," Bluff was saying to himself.

"Thank goodness!" exclaimed Jerry, who happened to overhear him. "And
for the peace of the party, I do hope the first thing you see when you
open your bag will be that awful sword."

"We're stopping, fellows!" cried Will, trembling with eagerness.

Five minutes later they jumped down from the train.

"Hello, boys! Glad to see you! Better late than never!" said a hearty
voice, and then they found themselves shaking hands with a big man,
whose gray-bearded face seemed to be a picture of good nature.

Of course, this was Mr. Mabie, the ranchman. He saw to it that their big
trunk was dropped off the baggage car, to be seized by a couple of
cowboys and hustled on to the back of a long buckboard wagon, drawn by a
couple of skittish horses.

Then they were off, not five minutes after the train had pulled out.

"Here, Reddy," said Mr. Mabie to the young driver, "let me make you
acquainted with some good fellows about your own age," and he introduced
them one after another.

Frank saw that the cowboy was well named, for he had quite a fiery
thatch; but his freckled face seemed one of the sort that invited
confidence, and Frank believed he would like the other right well. Of
course, Reddy was attired as all well-ordered cowboys should be. Will
was secretly wild for a chance to introduce him in some picture.

"It will give such a pleasing variety to our book of views, for we
haven't got a single cowboy in between the covers," he said in an aside
to Frank.

They followed up the valley for over an hour. The ranch was miles
removed from the railway, and surrounded by the wildest scenery the
boys could remember having looked upon, and that was saying a good deal,
after such a journey.

Martin Mabie was a widower, without any family. Still, he had a number
of women folks on the place, a sister keeping house for him, with a
Chinese cook to attend to the kitchen part of the establishment.

"Ain't this immense?" remarked Bluff, as he waited impatiently for the
men to carry the big trunk indoors, so that he could satisfy his soul
about the one object that had been worrying him ever since leaving
Centerville.

Somehow or other they seemed slow about doing this. The horses had to be
attended to first of all. Then there seemed to be some sort of
excitement in the neighborhood of the corral, for the boys noticed a
mounted cowboy come dashing up and jump from his steed, which was
blowing hard, as if from a rapid dash.

He wondered if this sort of thing was of daily occurrence on the big
ranch, which took in the whole valley for miles, and extended even up
along the sides of the mountains on either hand.

"What ails the fellow, I wonder?" observed Jerry, who, it seems, had
also noticed the rush of the newcomer.

"From the way he bolted into the office where Mr. Mabie went, I imagine
he must have brought important news of some sort," remarked Frank.

"Perhaps our very introduction to the Big M Ranch is going to be in a
whirl of excitement, fellows. I've noticed that somehow we seem to stir
up things wherever we go; not that we mean to have things happen, but
they just pick out such a time to play hob," said Jerry, shaking his
head as if thoroughly convinced.

"Here comes Mr. Mabie, hurrying this way!" declared Bluff, beginning to
forget his other anxiety for the time being in this new mystery.

"And there goes the cowboy back to the horse corral. He's shouting
something, too, and as sure as you live every man is jumping to get a
horse handy between his legs. Look at them slapping saddles on! Why,
they'll be off like the wind! Boys, something is up! I know it!"

Frank and his chums saw several cowboys dash away as though possessed,
shouting, and waving their hats in a reckless manner, as if about to
charge an enemy who had designs on the cattle of the ranch.

"Whatever can it mean?" said Will again.

"For the life of me I can't imagine," returned Frank, sorely puzzled.

"But we'll soon know, fellows, for here comes Mr. Mabie, and he's
swinging his hat as though just as excited as the balance of the crowd.
Whatever it is, he means to tell us!" cried Jerry, his eyes glowing with
the nerve-racking anxiety.




CHAPTER VII

THE GRIZZLY AT BAY


"Boys, do you want to see some fun?" called the ranchman as he came up.

"Always ready for that sort of thing, sir. What's going on?" asked
Frank.

"An old friend of ours, whom we call 'Mountain Charlie,' has broken
bounds at last, and is even now trying to drag one of my best yearlings
off to the mountain canyon where he has his den," replied the other.

"Mountain Charlie?" repeated Frank, mystified.

"And has a den in the mountains, too! What sort of a beast is that? Or
can it be a wild man?" asked Bluff.

The ranchman laughed heartily.

"I forgot you were tenderfeet, boys. We call a grizzly by that name out
here. This fellow we have known for some time. Hunting him has never
proven a profitable business, and, as a rule, he has never before come
so far out in the open; but hunger tempted the old chap, and the man who
galloped in told me he was even then dragging the yearling he had killed
in the direction of the hills."

"Oh! if we could only get there in time to see them shoot him!"
exclaimed Will, hitching his camera a little closer to his body.

"That's just what you're going to see. I sent word that he was not to be
hurt until we arrived. Horses are being hitched up for us all. I suppose
you can ride, boys?" inquired the owner of the ranch.

"To a certain extent, though I suppose your cowboys will think us pretty
punky at it," answered Jerry.

"But we mean to learn everything we can while here," piped up Bluff
earnestly.

"Good for you! These horses are only old plugs, however, so there's no
fear of them running away with you; and here they come."

Several cowboys came toward them, each leading a number of horses. Frank
thought that for "old plugs," the four intended for himself and chums
possessed considerable of the fire that had animated them in other
years.

"Up you go, boys. Take your pick. Then we're off."

Each seized upon the nearest animal, and, making use of the stirrup,
threw himself into the saddle. As Jerry had said, all of them had
frequently ridden at home, and indeed considered that they knew as much
about a saddle as the average boy of the East; but that amounted to very
little out here, where every one almost lived upon the back of a
broncho.

"Wow! But this is going some!" said Jerry as the whole group dashed
madly up the valley.

"I only hope I don't lose my camera in the rush," came from Will, who
was having troubles of his own in the rear.

"Look ahead, fellows! You can see what's going on, now!" called Frank,
who kept alongside the ranchman in the lead.

"Why, there's the bear, as sure as you live!" Bluff gasped.

"But what's he trying to do? First he rushes one way, and then turns
around to make a bolt at the other side. He must be getting rattled."

"Don't you see, Jerry, they've got him lassoed? He wants to tackle any
one of those three cowboys, but he just can't, with as many ropes
pulling him in three directions."

"Talk to me about that, will you, Frank!" cried Jerry. "I never expected
to see a grizzly bear held up in a rope like a steer. Look at the game
little ponies on their haunches, and holding like fun. They seem
somewhat scared, too, pard. Between you and me, I don't blame 'em a bit.
I'd hate to think that big beast was aiming to get a grip on me."

It was just as Jerry said. The cowboys had headed the grizzly off so
that he was unable to gain the safety of the wild mountain gorges.
Doubtless he had been loth to leave his prey at the approach of the
riders, and this had contributed to his final undoing.

One after another three of them had dropped their ropes over the head of
the grizzly as he reared himself on his hind legs. The lariats stretched
like piano wires under the strain, and as the cowboys had taken up
positions in a sort of triangle they could keep the bear from making any
sort of rush.

"Watch and see the fun," said Mr. Mabie, who had made sure to fetch his
rifle along when coming from the ranch house; but he did not seem in any
hurry to utilize the same.

Will, of course, immediately made good use of his camera.

Meanwhile, wilder grew the exertions of the trapped grizzly. He was
snarling with rage. The foam gathered about his mouth, and Frank
shuddered as he saw the cruel teeth, not to speak of the long, deadly
and poisonous claws.

"Hey, Bluff! If you only had that gentle little knife of yours handy,
now would be a fine chance to rush in and have a tussle with that meek
grizzly! You know you told us all just how you meant to slay the
jabbercock with one straight blow."

Bluff did not make any verbal reply to this unkind thrust on the part of
Jerry, but Frank, looking at him, saw that his face was deadly pale, and
that he was staring at the terrible monster with whom the reckless
cowboys were playing as a cat does with a mouse. He knew Bluff was
feeling a chill at the thought of such a tragedy happening as his having
an encounter with a beast like that.

"What if the ropes should break?" asked Frank as the captive made a more
ferocious rush than usual, and the pony on the other side was dragged
several feet.

"Then there would be somewhat of a mix-up, and a case of every man for
himself. They'd expect me to show that I hadn't altogether forgotten my
craft in connection with handling a rifle. Once I used to be a crack
shot, but lack of experience plays hob with a man's nerves," replied
Mr. Mabie, as he sat upon his steed and played with the repeating rifle
he held.

"I see you are enjoying the situation, boys. Would one of you like to
wind him up?" and the ranchman turned to Frank.

"I don't believe I would, sir," laughed that worthy.

"How about you, Jerry?"

"I've often dreamed of shooting such game, but excuse me, Mr. Mabie, it
would be too much like the butcher business to please me," observed the
other.

At this the stockman laughed.

"Oh, I can understand that principle of honor in a true sportsman, my
lad, and I must say it does you credit; but when you come to know
grizzlies better, and appreciate their terrible strength, you'll agree
with the rest of us that a man has to forget such things when he gets a
chance to puncture the hide of so fierce a monster as this old rogue. He
could kill a horse with a single blow, or tear one into shreds with
those claws. If I can get my mount to go a little closer, I'll try to
wind him up with a single ball, but it's difficult to shoot from the
back of a nervous pony."

He began to speak to his steed, which was striking the turf with its
hoofs, and champing at the bit, as if terrified at such close proximity
to, an animal so greatly to be dreaded.

Then suddenly there was a wild shout from the cowboys, and Frank,
looking, saw one of them whirling his horse in wild flight, and dashing
toward the group. He seemed to guess instinctively what had
happened--the rope of the opposite rider must have broken under the
tremendous strain. This really left the grizzly free, and, filled with
mad rage, he was galloping straight toward them!




CHAPTER VIII

BLUFF MISSES SOMETHING


"Look out there!" shouted one of the cowboys.

"Run, boys!" exclaimed Frank as he started to turn his pony around so as
to get beyond reach of the rapidly advancing bear.

He had just succeeded in doing this, and even started to gallop away,
when he saw a sight that almost froze the blood in his veins.

Jerry had, of course, intended doing a similar vamoosing stunt. It
happened, however, that his horse was more frightened than those of the
others. When he jerked at the bridle the beast whirled with such a
vicious fling that the boy, totally unprepared for such a move, and
unable to get the grip with his knees that a cowboy always secures, went
toppling over his head.

Frank, looking over his shoulder as he was borne rapidly away by his own
alarmed steed, saw Jerry scramble to his knees. At any rate, he thought
with relief, the other had escaped a broken neck in his ugly tumble.

Still, with that enraged grizzly bearing swiftly down upon him, in
spite of the one rope that still held taut, the position of poor Jerry
was not the most pleasant in the world.

Frank's first and only inspiration was to turn his horse around and rush
back to the assistance of his chum. It never occurred to him that being
without his own rifle, he would only be adding to the trouble by
offering Bruin a double sacrifice.

His pony, however, offered serious objections to facing that roaring
hurricane of a beast. Despite Frank's most strenuous efforts, he could
only twist the animal's head around, but not a step would the frightened
beast approach. Dancing there, he snorted his distrust and alarm.

But Frank plucked up new hope. He at the same time saw something else
that gave another aspect to the case. Jerry was not to be left alone to
his fate.

"Hurrah for Mr. Mabie!"

In his excitement Frank let out this shout. It was caused by seeing the
ranchman leap from the back of his own horse and rapidly run back toward
the spot where Jerry crouched, apparently too winded to get to his feet
and try flight.

Now Mr. Mabie had reached the boy, and the barrier of his heavy
repeating rifle would be between Jerry and the grizzly. Frank expected
to see the stockman drop on one knee and take aim at the bear, now very
close to the two dismounted ones. Nothing of the kind occurred. On the
contrary, he saw Mr. Mabie thrust the rifle into the hands of the boy,
who seemed to seize it eagerly.

Jerry had declined to shoot the grizzly when the beast was held by a
cordon of riatas. The conditions were now considerably altered, for the
huge animal was rapidly bearing down upon him, with the fire of
destruction in his small, blazing eyes. It was a case of bringing his
advance to a speedy stop, or suffering the consequences.

Frank's heart thrilled with pride as he saw his chum throw the rifle up
to his shoulder and glance along the glistening barrel. Mr. Mabie had
shown wonderful confidence in the boy's nerve to thus place the solution
of the problem in Jerry's hands.

Holding his breath, as he still tugged at the mouth of his refractory
mount, Frank saw the smoke shoot out from the muzzle of the gun as the
report sounded.

"Whoop! He's down!" shrieked a cowboy curveting near by.

"Take care! He's coming again, Jerry!" shouted Frank.

The bear had rolled over at the shot, but being one of the toughest
animals in the world, he had immediately gained his feet again, and was
once more advancing.

But Jerry knew what to do, even though he had never met quarry of this
caliber before. He pumped another cartridge into the chamber,
deliberately took aim, with apparently little show of excitement, and
fired again.

Once more the grizzly stumbled and fell. When he tried to get up again
he did not seem equal to the effort.

Mr. Mabie was shaking the hand of the young Nimrod with great
enthusiasm. Perhaps he had purposely tried the nerve of Jerry, to find
out what manner of boys these were, of whom old Jesse Wilcox spoke so
well.

Now that the monster was dead, the ponies consented to draw somewhat
closer; but the boys had to dismount, and hand over their steeds to a
cowman when they wished to reach the spot where the victim of the hunt
lay.

Will, with his camera, was, of course, in evidence.

"I wouldn't have missed that for a cookie!" he declared. "And if that
frightened horse had only allowed me to take a crack at the time the old
hermit toppled over, I'd be ever so much happier."

Frank, remembering how the other had been forced to clasp his arms
around the neck of his frantic steed at the time, smiled at the
impossibility of such a thing coming about.

"Give us a grip of your paw, old fellow!" cried Bluff, rushing up,
brimming over with enthusiasm and admiration. "I'll sure never forget
that sight! And he did the Rod, Gun and Camera Club proud when he used
your weapon, didn't he, Mr. Mabie?"

"I knew he would," was the quiet remark of the stockman; and Frank
understood that the other had been forming a favorable opinion of the
chums from the minute he saw them come off the train.

"Would you like that skin to remember the event by, Jerry?" Mr. Mabie
asked, a little later, while they were watching the cowboys remove the
hide.

"It would give my mother a cold chill to see it, if she ever heard the
story; but then we have a clubroom over our boathouse, and I guess it
would look nice there. So, since you are so kind as to offer it, I'll
say yes, Mr. Mabie."

"Well, I should remark that we'd never forgive you if you let that
chance slip. It looks as though our big-game trip might pan out
something worth while, after all," observed Bluff.

"You do everything on a big scale out here in the Northwest, sir. The
fields of wheat are tremendous, the distances immense, the mountains
higher than any in the East, by long odds; and the game the biggest in
the whole country," remarked Frank.

"And in this bracing air we hope to raise the finest crop of boys in the
world. But let's return to the house, lads. It's time we had a bite, for
I'm sure your appetites must be sharpened by this little adventure."

The ranchman cast many a secret admiring glance toward Jerry as they
rode home. He fell back with Frank on purpose to speak his mind, while
the other three galloped on ahead, laughing and shouting, as boys off on
a vacation always do.

"I like that chap, Jerry," he remarked earnestly. "He's a lad after my
own heart. What he said about not wanting to shoot defenceless game gave
me a wrench, for we cherish notions along that same line up here in the
wilderness. Of course, the grizzly, as I said, does not come under that
law, for he's too terrible a customer to be given much rope."

"Sometimes he takes his own rope," laughed Frank, secretly delighted to
hear this honest praise of his chum.

"Which is quite true for you, Frank. That cowboy will not soon get over
the humiliation of having his lariat give way. He feels very sore about
it now," remarked the stockman, casting a side look toward where a
couple of his herders were wrangling over something as they brought up
the rear.

"I'm so glad you gave Jerry that chance. He's the most enthusiastic
sportsman I ever met, and so honorable in his dealings with the wearers
of fin, fur and feather. No danger of the woods ever being depopulated
while he's around," Frank said, with his customary generous view of
anything that concerned his chums.

"It was what you may call an inspiration. My first idea, of course, was
to cover the boy and face the bear. I did not doubt my own ability to
down him, but somehow I was tempted to take chances with the lad. I'm
glad now I did it. He stood the racket like a veteran. I'd be a happy
man if I'd only been left a boy like your chum for my own."

The ranchman spurred on ahead at this, and Frank made no effort to
overtake him, for he felt sure he had seen tears glistening in the
other's eyes, and could appreciate his feelings, for the stockman's only
child, a boy, at that, lay with the mother in the ranch cemetery.

Breakfast was ready for them, and what a glorious meal the boys made!
Just as Mr. Mabie had said, they proved as hungry as wolves. That clear
mountain air seemed to tone them up after their long railway journey,
and Frank laughingly declared their host had better send away for a new
stock of provisions if he expected to keep them satisfied.

Bluff was the first to leave the table. Frank had seen him eating
hurriedly toward the close of the meal. He knew without being told what
ailed his comrade.

"He'll never be happy until he gets it, fellows!" sang out Jerry, who,
of course, had also noticed the hurried departure of the anxious one.

They could hear Bluff tossing things around hurriedly in the other room,
where they expected to bunk, and to which the big trunk had been finally
carried.

Ten minutes later, Frank, remembering that a great silence had fallen
over the neighboring apartment, stole softly to the door and looked in.
He saw a picture of abject dejection there--Bluff sitting on the floor,
in the midst of piles of garments, clothes bags, and all manner of
things, frowning and shaking his head, as if he had lost his last
friend.

"What's the matter?" demanded Frank, drawing nearer.

"Matter enough," answered the disconsolate one, sighing heavily. "Why,
after all my trouble and everything, I've gone and left that knife at
home, and now my whole trip is going to be spoiled for me. I just seemed
to feel that something was bound to happen to upset my calculations. I
might as well go back, that's what," said Bluff, gritting his teeth in
his spasm of disgust.




CHAPTER IX

FRANK HAS HIS TURN


"Oh, humbug! There are other knives," remarked Frank cheerily.

"Not like that one," said Bluff dismally.

"No doubt Mr. Mabie will lend you a good one while you're here."

"Yes, he's awfully kind, but it wouldn't be that knife," groaned the
bereaved Bluff.

"When do you remember seeing it last?" demanded Frank, as a suspicion
darted into his brain that was connected with Jerry.

On one of their former camping trips Jerry had professed to entertain a
decided antipathy toward a repeating shotgun of modern make that Bluff
had bought. He declared that it was a shame for one who called himself a
sportsman to handle so destructive a weapon. When a chance came, he hid
the gun in a box that held some of their superfluous things. Later, upon
trying to find it, in order to give it back, he learned that it was
missing, and Bluff had to go without his gun until the hunt was nearly
over, when it was discovered in the woods, where the thief had dropped
it.

Frank wondered if Jerry was concerned in the mysterious vanishing of the
wonderful hunting-knife. He had laughed at its tremendous proportions
and ornate handle. Still, it did not seem reasonable to believe that
Jerry would be guilty of a second trick along those same lines.

"I was trying to remember. You know we were showing our things to the
girls?"

"Yes, I believe we were," smiled Frank; for he could still see Bluff
flourishing his precious knife, sheath and all, for the entertainment of
Nellie.

"Well, I can't remember for the life of me seeing it again after that.
You know we packed in a big hurry in the morning. I may have laid it
aside, intending that it would go in on top, and then overlooked it.
Such a fool play, too, when that was the prize of the whole collection!"
groaned Bluff.

"And you've looked over the whole outfit here, have you?" Frank
continued, surveying the piled-up mess of stuff.

"Yes; three separate times. Oh, there's no getting around it, I've made
a goose of myself, and you know how I wanted to use that trusty blade
so much. Of course, I won't think of moping in my tent. I'll borrow a
knife, and perhaps it will do me good service; but nothing can ever take
the place of that beautiful piece of steel."

"Well, let's get these things in something like order before the boys
come in. Sort out what belongs to you, and chuck the balance of your
extra clothes in your own bag, for I see that you've had most of them
out"

"Yes. I even wondered if I could have stuck that knife in among my other
shirts and underclothes, but it isn't there. I'll have to stand it, but
you fellows will never know what a loss this is to me. Coming all this
distance, too, just to get a chance to use it on an elk, or something
worth while."

Frank thought that if Bluff had his way his mates would at least never
have a chance to forget about his great loss, for he was apt to remind
them of it every little while.

Will now came bustling in, anxious to ascertain if his little developing
outfit came through safely, together with his packages of hypo and other
necessities.

It was decided to put in that day around the ranch seeing how Mr. Mabie
ran his business. Then on the following morning a party of them
intended to set out for a camp in the mountains, where game would
likely be found.

"We'll occupy three camps I have in view. From the first we can go to
the second by taking several bullboats that will be waiting for us, and
shooting the rapids in the river. That would be an experience you boys
might enjoy," remarked the stockman as they rode around the valley to
get a comprehensive grasp upon the way in which this enterprising
settler carried on a big cattle ranch.

Reddy seemed to have been picked out by the owner to keep with them.
Frank was glad of this, for somehow he had come to entertain a fancy for
the smiling young cowboy.

"Rapids, did you say?" exclaimed Jerry, his face lighting up with
rapture. "Why, that would tickle us from the ground up. I've always
wanted to run through some little Niagara. Frank, here, has done it up
in Maine, so he tells us. I hope what you have will beat his experience
all hollow."

"Well, they are some rapids, I understand," replied the other, smiling.

"And if I could only be on the shore, to see you shoot down, it would
afford me the greatest pleasure in the world. Not that I don't want to
go through, too, but my first duty is toward securing all these
wonderful events in an imperishable way by taking a picture. Some
scoffers may doubt a story, but pictures never lie."

"That shows your innocence, Will," remarked Jerry. "Why, I've seen
fellows standing beside the fish they caught, which I knew myself to be
only ten inches long, and yet the cunning photographer had arranged it
so that it looked all of two feet."

"I'm surprised that you, with all your experience, shouldn't know that,"
said Frank, pretending to frown.

"You mistook my meaning, that's all. What I intended to say was that
_my_ pictures would never lie," affirmed Will sturdily.

"Hear! hear! Somebody rub him on the back, please! But joking aside,
Will, I'm ready to back you up on that score. The only fault I find with
you is your ambition to take a fellow in every pickle he happens to drop
into," and Jerry made a wry face as he remembered a number of scenes in
which he had figured, that were wont to excite his chums to uproarious
laughter at such times as they looked at the faithful reproductions in
their album at the clubhouse.

In this pleasant way the day passed, and evening found them eager to
complete their preparations for the morrow. Mr. Mabie answered every
question fired at him by the anxious young sportsmen, especially Bluff,
who wanted to know everything connected with the game they expected to
hunt.

"He's trying to forget his great disappointment," said Frank as he and
Jerry watched the other plying Mr. Mabie with these queries; for Bluff
was the son of a lawyer, and would never take things for granted.

"What's that?" asked Jerry, for no one had been told about the loss that
had come to Bluff.

"Can't find that knife of his anywhere, it seems, and believes he must
have left it behind. He was looking mighty blue when I found him in the
room, with all our stuff tumbled, pell-mell, out of the trunk."

Frank eyed his chum as he spoke. Jerry turned a little red.

"Not guilty, Frank! I give you my word I never touched the measly old
knife. I'm sorry for him, too, for he seemed so bent on doing great
stunts with it. I'll take a look myself," he said hastily, and yet
meeting his chum's gaze in such a straightforward fashion that Frank
never doubted his word for an instant.

"No use doing that. He rooted the whole outfit over. The knife is gone,
and that's sure! I've been thinking some about it."

"And had a bright idea, I warrant. What's your solution of the
mystery?"

"Why, you see, Jerry, I can clearly recollect Nellie's startled look
when Bluff showed her that terribly large knife. She's afraid of such
things. I'm sure she must have worried some about it, and I was
thinking--"

"What?"

"That perhaps she may have considered it prudent to hide it away so that
he couldn't find it again. I believe she would in my case, anyhow. It
would be just like Nellie."

"Oh, well, it doesn't matter much, only Bluff is such a fellow to hang
on a thing he'll never give us any peace about it. Have you asked Will?"
said Jerry.

"No. I will, though; but I don't think he would bother his head about a
dozen knives. If it were a camera, now, or a rapid-action rectilinear
lens, you could depend on him to take notice."

Frank was as good as his word. Will denied having touched the article in
question, and said he was sorry to hear Bluff would be deprived of a
pleasure.

And so for the time being the mystery remained such, with Bluff
occasionally digging into that trunk in a vain search, and always
sighing mournfully because he failed to bring the lost treasure to
light.

The boys bunked in one big room. It was very much like a picnic for
them, and would often bring back pleasant memories whenever they looked
at the rather clever view Will managed to get of the interior, with his
chums and himself lolling there.

In the morning there was pretty much of a bustle around the ranch house.

"Ready, boys?" called Mr. Mabie, as he appeared with his gun strapped
across his back, as the easiest way of carrying it.

A chorus of affirmatives greeted his question.

"Then mount, and we'll be off. They've gone on ahead last night with the
tents and foodstuff, so that we'll find things in pretty much shipshape
when we get on the ground."

"Say, they do things right out in this big country, eh?" said Bluff to
Frank as the two of them galloped off in company.

The morning was fair and the air sharp enough to be bracing.

"Never saw anything to equal the atmosphere here," remarked Frank as
their host came alongside. "There seems to be a tonic in it that even we
do not have up in Maine or the Adirondacks. It makes you feel like
shouting all the time."

"Everybody says the same when they first come. Presently you will grow
accustomed to its invigorating tone, and quiet down. It is caused by the
dry air. We are a long way from the Atlantic, and these mighty mountains
to the west act as a buffer to the moisture-laden air from the Pacific."

Crossing the valley, they were soon penetrating among the foothills at
the base of the great uplifts, the tops of which bore eternal snow.

Wilder grew the scenery as they penetrated deeper into the wilderness.
Frank and his chums were almost awed by the grandeur of their
surroundings. At the same time, Jerry kept an eager eye on the watch for
signs of game. The sportsman spirit was strong in his nature, and
generally forged to the front.

It was Frank, however, who first chanced to spy something that excited
his attention.

"What is that moving up yonder, Mr. Mabie? There! Look! I declare if it
didn't jump straight across from that high rock to the other! Is that a
Rocky Mountain sheep, sir?" he asked.

"Just what it is, my lad; and if you feel inclined, there is a chance
for you to get a shot at it," came the quick reply.

"I would like it, first rate," declared Frank, immediately changing his
rifle from his back to his hands.

"All right, then. Listen, and I'll tell you how it may be done. We'll
rest our horses right here, for the last climb over this rough ridge to
the bank of the swift river lying between. You drop down here and make
your way along until you can get a chance to shoot. It will be a long
shot, remember, so make allowances; and the wind is with you, not
against you."

"I'll try my best, sir," said Frank, slipping off his horse.

"Be very careful as you crawl along, for a slip might cost you your
life," were the last words he heard the stockman say as he began to
descend the little declivity in order to make his way along its base, so
as to remain concealed from the quarry.

Frank was careful as well as quick in his movements. Again and again he
peeped out to see what the mountain sheep was doing. So far as he could
learn, the animal seemed to be centering its attention on the caravan
that had halted. Three times it moved its position, and once he was just
in time to see it make a most dazzling leap, which he hoped Will might
have caught with his quick-action lens.

Finally, having gained a place where he had a fine view of the animal
standing there across the gorge, Frank sank down so as to get a good
aim. Not quite satisfied, he crawled forward a little further, and then
proceeded to put his fortune to the test.

Never had he calculated more exactly just how he should aim in order to
bring the success he craved. When he pressed the trigger he was thrilled
to see the mountain sheep give a wild spring into the air and then fall
over the edge of the platform. This time its spring lacked the buoyancy
of life, and Frank knew that his bullet had reached its billet.

But he had no time to exult, for as he moved he felt the ground slipping
from under him, and realized that nothing could interpose to prevent his
falling into the deep gorge!




CHAPTER X

THE YOUNG HUNTER AND THE ELK


There are times when one acts from instinct alone. Frank had no time to
think, when he felt himself going down with some loose earth and stones
into the wide canyon. He simply threw his rifle back of him, so that he
might save it from falling, and at the same time have the free use of
both hands.

He fell a dozen feet or so, along with the loose soil and rocks he had
caused to give way under his weight. Then, by some happy accident, his
outstretched hands closed upon a bush that was growing from the rough
face of the wall, and to this he clung with desperation.

It threatened to come loose with each movement he made, and yet he was
bound to find some niche for his dangling feet, so as to relieve the
bush from a part of his weight.

He had heard the loud outcries of his friends, and knew they must be
hastening to his relief.

If he could only hold on for five minutes all might be well.

Below lay quite an abyss, and a fall was apt to bruise him very much,
even if he were fortunate enough not to have any bones broken. It was,
therefore, with considerable gratitude that he discovered he could dig
his toes into crevices in the rock, and thus hang on.

Jerry afterward declared that Frank presented all the appearance of a
fly plastered against a wall; but it might have been noticed that he was
the first one to reach the edge of the platform and breathe encouraging
words to his endangered chum.

Mr. Mabie knew what would be needed before he made the first movement.

"Bring your rope, Reddy!" he shouted, and the agile cowboy had obeyed.

This was quickly lowered until the noose dangled below Frank.

"Use one foot to draw it in, my boy. We want you to get both legs inside
the loop, and then gradually let us draw it up under your arms. It's all
right. We're going to have you out of that, so don't worry!" called the
ranchman.

"You can depend on it, Frank isn't frightened. If that bush threatens to
go, get a quick grip of the rope! Do you understand, Frank?" called
Jerry.

A quick nod of the head told that the one below realized he was as good
as drawn up already. One foot was cautiously withdrawn from its support
and the loop caught; then the second also passed inside the circle;
after which a tightening of the lariat brought it up to where Mr. Mabie
wanted to have it.

"Now here you come, my boy!" he called cheerily.

Frank let go his frenzied clutch, and swung into space; but willing
hands quickly drew him up until he stood with his chums.

"Did I get him?" was the first question he asked, at which the stockman
laughed heartily and patted him on the back.

"Spoken like a true sportsman, I declare! How about it, Reddy?" he said.

"There's his game, sir, lying just at the foot of that old slide. It was
as neat a shot as I ever saw," declared the young cowboy, pointing.

"Which is the truth, old fellow!" exclaimed Jerry, seizing Frank's hand
and wringing it warmly, without a touch of jealousy, even though his own
laurels as the admitted best shot of the club seemed in jeopardy.

"But what a pity we can't get it! I hate to think of killing game and
leaving it for the wolves," said Frank.

"Oh, that's soon remedied. Reddy will promise to land that sheep here
for you in double-quick order, eh?"

Reddy was already fastening one end of his lariat to a projecting stone
that resembled a saddle-horn. This done, he tried it, to make sure that
it would hold. Then he tossed the balance of the rope, loop and all,
over the edge.

"Does it reach down?" asked Mr. Mabie.

"Just gets there, and no more," replied Will, craning his neck to see.

Reddy flung himself over in what struck Will as a most reckless fashion;
but he discovered in time that these free riders of the ranches do
everything in that nervous manner. It is a country where men quickly
learn that often their lives depend on their ability to act promptly and
like a flash.

"He's down already," announced Will, half a minute later.

And it was not ten minutes before they saw the cowboy coming back again.
He had Frank's first mountain sheep upon his back, and though the way
was rough he jumped from stone to stone with surprising agility for one
who spent so much time in the saddle.

In due time the journey was resumed.

"How much further do we go?" asked Will, as he followed behind the
guide, Reddy.

"Here's the top of the ridge. Now you can see the other valley, and the
noise you hear is made by a cataract in the river. We camp just below
that. Fishing is good there, and I guess you'll like it," was the reply.

They soon headed down, and the end of their day's work seemed close at
hand. It can be easily assumed that none of the boys were sorry. Quite
unused to riding, they began to feel the effects already.

"I'm glad it's a camp after this. I've sure got a cramp in my legs that
it'll take a long time to get out," grunted Bluff.

"Rome wasn't built in a day, son. Each time you ride you'll notice that
cramp less and less, until after a month you will be entirely free from
it. But here we are at our journey's end, and I, for one, don't feel
sorry, because for ten minutes I've been scenting that coffee. The boys
have seen us coming, and started to have dinner cooked."

It proved to be just as Mr. Mabie said. A most appetizing camp dinner
was ready for them when they arrived. Perhaps Jerry and Frank may have
thought it did not fully come up to some similar feasts they had helped
prepare in the woods, but of course they never hinted at such a thing;
for those cowboys, while the most accommodating of fellows, were also
thin-skinned in some respects.

Will was fairly delighted at the romantic looks of the camp, back of
which the waterfall came tumbling down. He could hardly wait to eat his
dinner before he set to work to secure a _fac-simile_ of the picture,
with the party gathered around the fire, and the three tents making a
pleasing contrast to the dark green of the pinon trees.

Most of the party were contented to remain quiet during the balance of
the day, but Bluff developed an unusually ambitious spirit for action.
Truth to tell, he secretly considered that his chums were having more
than their share of good luck in making a record at bagging game, and
thought it time he started in.

Mr. Mabie had made him accept the use of a spare hunting-knife. It was a
short, though serviceable weapon, and had doubtless done splendid
execution in days gone by. Bluff used to take it out when he thought no
one was looking, run his finger over the keen edge, gaze sadly at the
dim blade, and shake his head. He could not get the memory of that other
grand specimen of the cutler's skill out of his mind, and his soul was
filled with bitterness because of its strange absence.

"Look out for wolves!" called Reddy, but Bluff only waved his hand in
derision as he walked away down the valley.

Of course, he knew that the stockmen were more or less troubled with
these hungry marauders in the winter time, and often had to organize
grand hunts in order to keep their number down; but it hardly seemed
reasonable to expect trouble from such a source in the summer season.

Elk and moose had not as yet come under the protection of the game laws,
so that they were at liberty to shoot what they pleased. As a rule,
however, Mr. Mabie did not believe in hunting such animals save in the
fall of the year.

Bluff had asked numerous questions before leaving camp, so that he knew
something about the lay of the land in the vicinity. He had started out
with all due regard to the way the wind was blowing, so as not to alarm
any quarry that might be sniffing up the breeze.

Climbing among the rocks, and passing through dense patches of timber,
he kept on the alert for signs of game. Now, Bluff did not make any
pretence at being a skilful sportsman. In fact, until a year or so back
he had been the bungler of the party when it came to a knowledge of
woodcraft; but since then he had studied up on various subjects, and was
now anxious to air his knowledge.

When he caught sight of a large animal with towering antlers, feeding in
a little glade, he knew it must, of necessity, be an elk, for a moose
was built along different lines entirely.

It might have amused Jerry to see the way in which Bluff crawled closer
and closer to the expected quarry. No doubt he did make some ridiculous
efforts, which were not at all according to the usual rules of the game.
However, as Bluff would say, the proof of the pudding lies in the eating
of it, and he certainly did manage to creep up quite close to the
feeding elk.

Thinking he was now near enough, and that the animal was beginning to
act uneasily, Bluff stretched himself out, balanced his gun on a stone,
took a long aim, and then pulled the trigger.

The elk certainly dropped, at which the young hunter gave a bellow of
delight. That was where he made a foolish blunder, for believing that
his bullet had done for the game, Bluff started recklessly forward, bent
on bleeding the same, and only regretting the fact that he could not
initiate his precious new blade.

To his astonishment, the wounded elk scrambled to its feet, and instead
of bounding away it shook its antlers in an angry fashion and started
straight toward the young hunter!




CHAPTER XI

THE ELK AND THE YOUNG HUNTER


"Hey! Hold on, there! That isn't in the game!"

The elk did not seem to care whether it were so or not, but came rushing
straight on. Like many another, more experienced in the ways of the
woods than himself, Bluff almost forgot that he had other charges in his
gun. He was so amazed to see the animal he had fully believed to be dead
show such surprising signs of life, that he stood there for a few
precious seconds, gaping as if in a dream.

Then he made a wild spring to one side and gained the shelter of a tree.

"Oh! What a socker!" he exclaimed, as the enraged and bleeding animal
came full tilt against the trunk of the tree.

Before he could say more, or try to form any plan of action, he found
himself obliged to spin around that same trunk with all the rapidity he
could command, for the elk was apparently determined to overtake him,
and those towering antlers seemed pointed with spikes, in the eyes of
the startled lad as he strained every effort to keep beyond their reach.

Bluff was really alarmed by this time. He knew that any unfortunate slip
on his part would precipitate a tragedy.

"I laughed at Jerry and the wild dogs that chased him around and around,
but never again for me!" he gasped, as he kept up the weary circle,
hugging the trunk as closely as possible.

This, however, caused him to remember that on the other occasion his
chum had finally managed to gain the victory through his own gun, and
Bluff suddenly came to a knowledge of the fact that he did have a gun
gripped in his hand, and which also contained five more shots.

"Hold on! Give me a breathing spell, hang you! I'll fix you yet!" he
managed to exclaim, though he would better have husbanded his breath to
better purpose.

The elk was not a bit accommodating. Perhaps the animal understood that
so long as it kept Bluff in rapid motion the human enemy could not find
a chance to use that fire-stick again, that shot out such burning
missiles. At any rate, it persevered, and poor Bluff's tongue fairly
hung out with fatigue.

In desperation, he was about to turn around, trusting to luck to get in
a shot that would put an end to this awful chase in a circle, when the
elk tripped and fell.

"Now!" gasped Bluff.

You would have thought he must have leveled his gun and fired. Jerry
or Frank would, in all probability, have done that very thing. But
Bluff seemed to go back to the first law of Nature, which is
self-preservation.

He dropped his gun, and seizing a limb that happened to be within reach,
climbed into the tree with the agility of a monkey. Fear spurred him on
to do his best work just then.

"Don't you wish you could?" he shouted derisively down at the elk, which
was jumping up, and making all manner of threatening movements with its
antlered head, much after the fashion of an enraged goat, Bluff thought.

He was safe enough, but somehow Bluff did not like the idea of having to
wait in the tree until his chums, drawn by his calls, came to the
rescue. Why, he would never hear the end of the thing! It was too
horrible to contemplate, and in some fashion he must secure possession
of his gun to end the career of that pugnacious old bull elk.

  [Illustration: "DON'T YOU WISH YOU COULD?" HE SHOUTED DERISIVELY DOWN AT
  THE ELK.--_Page 98_.
  _The Outdoor Chums After Big Game_.]

Bluff had read more or less about the strange adventures that befall
hunters of big game. He also remembered how one man had fished for his
gun, and successfully, under similar conditions.

Having no cord in his pocket, he deliberately tore his handkerchief into
strips and knotted them together. When this failed to reach the ground,
he fastened it to the end of a long and stout "sucker," or sprout, which
he cut from the body of the tree.

A running loop was made at the other end, for he could see that his gun
lay in such a position that the barrel was tilted.

Bluff then began to angle. Many times he came near accomplishing his
purpose, when something occurred to break up his plans.

"I'll never give up," he declared, when the elk moved forward, as if
suspecting something, and endeavored to catch the dangling noose in its
antlers, which Bluff would not have happen for anything.

"If I was trying to catch you, I'd want something stronger than this
rag. Now please wander away again, and let me have another try," he
said; and then, as the animal did walk off a dozen paces, as if
encouraging him to descend, he courteously added, "Thank you."

A minute later he was thrilled to find that his erratic loop had
actually dropped over the end of the gun barrel. A quick jerk at the
proper instant tightened the clutch, and after that it was the easiest
thing in the world to pull the weapon up within reach of his trembling
hands.

"Now, we'll see if you're going to have the laugh on me, you old scamp!
Hi! Hold on, there! Who said you could walk away? Come back here, and
have it out! I dare you!"

The elk, as if suspecting that all was not well, had indeed started to
move off. But when Bluff made a great feint of coming down, he succeeded
in exciting the animal's anger again, and caution was flung to the
winds.

Bluff watched for his chance, and when it came he made sure work of it
by sending a bullet through the heart of the fighting elk.

Even then he waited a little while.

"Going to try getting up again? This time I'm ready for you, old
fellow!" he said to the fallen beast; but presently it became patent,
even to his inexperienced eyes, that the elk had breathed its last.

"Now, if Will were only here," Bluff remarked enviously, as he put one
foot on his prize and tried to look very unconcerned, as if knocking
down such big game might be a matter of almost daily occurrence with
him.

Not knowing how to go about cutting the elk up, Bluff headed back toward
the camp. Before leaving the spot he thought to bleed the quarry, after
a fashion, for he understood that such a thing was always done to make
the meat taste better.

Half an hour later he showed up in the camp. It was next to impossible
to get lost in that valley, which might account for Bluff finding his
way back with comparative ease.

Jerry was lounging alongside one of the tents, engaged in getting his
fishing tackle in order, for a try in the pool below the falls.

"Shall we send the horses out to tote it in?" he asked, after the usual
fashion of greeting greenhorns when they come back from a hunt
apparently unattended by success.

"Did you hear me shoot?" asked Bluff carelessly.

"Why, yes, twice; and some time apart. What was it--a crow or a
jack-rabbit?"

Bluff only smiled as Mr. Mabie came out of the tent and glanced at him.

"What would you say that was, sir?" he asked, thrusting something in
front of the old stockman.

Starting back, Mr. Mabie looked hastily at the hairy object.

"An elk's tail, as sure as you live!" he remarked, his face relaxing in
a smile.

"What's that?" roared Jerry, springing to his feet.

"Oh, you needn't get excited about it. Do you see the dull spots on my
knife? Well, I bled my game, all right, just as I wanted to do with that
bully good blade that was left behind; and if Reddy will only go back
with me, we can bring the old fellow in on a horse," said Bluff coolly.

"Count me in on that!" exclaimed Will, rushing out of his impromptu
dark-room, and waving the bottle in which he was making a solution of
hypo.

"I think I'll go along, too," remarked Frank, appearing from some other
place.

When the party started forth presently, there were six of them with the
horse--the chums, Reddy, and Mr. Mabie himself.

"I am beginning to believe you boys will corral everything in sight if
you keep on the way you've started. A grizzly, a sheep, and now an elk;
and only thirty hours with me! H'm! Perhaps I may not be able to show
you as much about big-game hunting as I expected," said the stockman,
who seemed vastly amused at the energy shown by his young guests at the
ranch.

"Oh, we can pull a trigger, all right, sir, but there are a thousand
things we want to know about these natives that books never teach. I'm
like a sponge, and can keep on soaking up information all the time,"
laughed Frank.

Incautiously, Bluff let fall certain words that gave Jerry a clue as to
the true situation.

"A tree! Shot him downward from a tree, eh? Now, since you've so frankly
confessed that much, why not tell the whole blooming story, Bluff?" he
cried.

"There isn't much to it. I saw the elk. Then I shot him, and he fell
over. After that the elk saw me. He chased me about a tree. I remembered
how fast Jerry said he ran around when those wild dogs were after him,
and I wanted to go him just one better. Then I found a chance to climb
when the wounded elk stumbled. After that I made a rope out of my
handkerchief and fished with a loop until I caught the barrel of my gun.
That's all."

"A whole history in a nutshell. But we must be getting near the place,
according to what you said at the start. There are the three oaks
growing in a clump. Now where's your dead elk?"

As Frank spoke he turned to Bluff. That individual was staring around in
evident bewilderment.

"It was sure here I met him. There's the little glade, and this big tree
is the one I climbed up into. I saw him lying there. I _know_ he was
dead when I bled him. But I must be blind, for the elk certainly is not
here now. Oh! Did he come to life again, and run away?" said poor Bluff,
in despair, looking at the tail, which he had thrust into his belt.




CHAPTER XII

HARD LUCK


"Talk to me about your dreamers!" muttered Jerry, shrugging his
shoulders.

"But I tell you it was so!" asserted Bluff, firing up.

"The boy is right," said Mr. Mabie, as he stepped forward and fastened
his eyes upon the ground.

Frank saw immediately what the stockman had in mind. These things
mentioned by Bluff could never have happened without leaving some
tangible traces behind. Where a big elk had been slain there must be
signs of the blood that had flowed.

"Look here, and see for yourself, Jerry." And Mr. Mabie pointed to the
ground at his feet.

"There's some marks of hoofs around, I admit, and they seem to circle
about the tree, just as Bluff says; and--yes, that's blood on the
ground, as sure as you live! I guess I'm on the wrong track. He did
have a merry circus. He did shoot an elk, but where has the blooming
thing gone?" exclaimed the scoffer.

"That's just what I'm going to find out through Reddy, here. He has some
local reputation as a tracker. Put your nose down to it, and let us know
what happened, Reddy."

In accordance with the request of the ranchman, the cowboy threw himself
upon his hands and knees.

"Indians!" he announced, before they had taken half a dozen breaths.

"What?" cried Bluff, staring hard.

"Cree Indians been here. I can see the print of their moccasins plain as
day; and here's where they dragged the elk along, heading toward the
river!"

Reddy seemed to have not the slightest trouble in reading the signs, and
yet to the boys there was not the faintest vestige of marks. Presently,
however, Frank was able to make out the print of a foot in the soil, and
he noted that the one who made it wore no heels. His footwear must be
moccasins.

"H'm!" remarked Mr. Mabie. "Just what I suspected. The thieving Crees
have robbed our young friend of his prize. Too bad! But there are more
elk around, Bluff, and I hope you'll have other chances."

"But that one chased me so hard I wanted revenge. I calculated on eating
a bit of his flank for my dinner. What's the matter with our following
up the scamps, and making them give up some of my game, anyhow?"
demanded the disappointed hunter.

"Impossible just now. The river is close by, and they undoubtedly had
boats in which they fled, carrying off your elk. By this time they've
shot the rapids, and must be miles below. Possibly we may run across the
rascals later, when we also go down the river," replied Mr. Mabie.

Reddy had gone off, his head bent low, and they understood that he was
following the trail, much as a hound would have done, with this one
difference, that whereas a dog pursues by scent alone, the cowboy had to
depend on his eyes.

"But if game is so plentiful, why should these Crees want to steal my
elk?" pursued Bluff, who could not be easily satisfied.

"That bothers me to answer. Perhaps they happened to be out of
ammunition. There are several other explanations, but in my opinion the
most probable is the natural meanness of certain dusky bucks; just as
your able tramp refuses to do a lick of work, while he'll walk twenty
miles for nothing," smiled the other.

"There comes Reddy back. Perhaps he knows more about it now," said
Frank, who was decidedly interested in the enigma.

They waited until the cowboy joined the circle about the tree.

"Boats, Reddy?" asked Mr. Mabie.

"Three. Must have carried around the falls without our knowing it. Hung
about here, waiting to steal something from our camp. Had a snare set
for jack-rabbits. Saw some torn skins in the camp," was what the cowboy
replied, in his jerky way.

"Oh! Then I guess they must have been here before we came, and all you
say makes me believe I was right. They have no arms, or else their
powder and shot have run out; and for some reason they are afraid to
meet whites. Well, the elk's gone, and we can't mend that. Let's return
to camp. You have the tail to show for your little adventure, my lad."

"Yes, sir; and the memory of it all, which will haunt me for a good long
time," said Bluff, with a shake of his head, as he contemplated the
historic tree around which he had done a little Marathon.

"But I mean to get a picture of this tree, anyhow, just to remind Bluff
how valuable a good pair of sprinting legs may be sometimes," laughed
Will.

And he did, with Bluff standing alongside; for once the official
photographer demanded a pose, he was bound to get it, or throw up his
job, for such was the law of the Rod, Gun and Camera Club.

Then they retraced their steps to the camp, Frank more than usually
thoughtful, for anything in the shape of a mystery always set him to
puzzling, and he more than once wondered whether they would ever learn
just why those Crees stole the elk Bluff had downed after so much
trouble.

"How many did there seem to be?" he asked Reddy, a little later.

"You mean of the thieving reds? I counted nine in all, four bucks, two
squaws and three pappooses," replied the other.

"But if I understand rightly, these Indians never take their families
when they go on the war-path. Is that so, Reddy?" Frank asked quickly.

"Say, get that notion out of your head right away. They ain't no Crees
lookin' for trouble these days. My idea is just this: This is a family
travelin' acrost country, for some reason or other. P'raps they got
kicked out of their pesky old village. I've knowed such things to
happen. Then they run short of meat, and didn't have guns or powder.
Under such conditions any redman would steal."

"Well, who could blame them, with women and children to feed? I guess
you hit the nail on the head that time, Reddy. Glad to think that way,
too. We can spare the elk, and it will spur Bluff on to other hunting
deeds. He's had a taste now, and the fever will work on him."

Meanwhile, Jerry had started his fishing below the cataract. There were
places just at the end of the foam-splashed outlet of the big pool where
they had seen noble trout jumping, and it was here he dropped his flies.

After trying them a short time, and ascertaining that the trout paid
little attention to the feathery lure, practical Jerry actually
descended to the plebian angleworm, though he blushed when Frank came
over to watch him.

"Got to have some for supper, you know," he remarked. "Now, if I was
only doing this thing for the sport, nothing could tempt me to use live
bait. I'm at it in the strict commercial sense this time."

"I understand; and Jerry, let me tell you, the sportsman who, when
trout-hungry, refuses to go back to first principles, and use grubs and
worms after the fish refuse the fly, is to be pitied, that's all,"
laughed Frank.

"Hey! That's a dandy, all right! See him jump, will you? Wow! He's all
of two pounds, and as strong as an ox! I hope the leader holds. It's
been frayed some by rubbing over rocks in the past. Please pick up that
landing-net and attend to the beauty, if I can coax him close enough,
Frank."

Frank landed not only that beauty, but several more, ere he wandered off
to do something else. Jerry kept on fishing until he could not get
another bite, by which time he had quite a nice string of the speckled
beauties.

"Perhaps enough for a decent meal; though if Bluff develops his usual
appetite, the rest of us would go hungry. I wonder if a fellow mightn't
have some luck up above the falls? Guess I'll make a shift to try," he
said to himself.

The last view he had of the camp showed him Reddy amusing Bluff by
making flying tosses of his rope and lassoing all sorts of objects, from
the hat on the head of the admiring witness, to something tossed up in
the air.

Jerry labored up the hillside until he finally came to where he could
look down at the water as it shot over the edge. It fell with a great
deal of noise, striking the rocks below in many places with terrific
force.

"Ugh! It would just about bang a fellow to pieces to drop over there,"
he remarked, commencing to move upstream, looking for a promising place
to begin his fishing operations.

Presently he discovered a log that jutted out over the swift current.
From this outlook he believed he could allow his bait to float down into
an eddy that looked as though it might be the home of a big hermit
trout.

Jerry tested the log as he cautiously advanced. He realized that he was
taking some chances in creeping out to its furthest end, but so far as
he could ascertain it seemed to be firm enough.

Straddling the log, he started to get his baited hook in motion. The
wriggling worms sank a little in the swirl. At first, he was unable to
just master the difficult problem of how to influence the bait to float
into the eddy. Twice he failed to accomplish this, but studying the
rushing stream a little, he fancied that by a certain throw in the start
he could gain his end.

Sure enough, it worked, and like a charm. The baited hook was drawn back
into the foam-flecked eddy, and he saw it vanish from view. Then came a
most tremendous jerk, that almost caused him to lose his balance and
the log to quiver, with sickening possibilities.

But Jerry glued his legs against the sides, just as he had been told to
do with a refractory pony, and managed to recover his balance. The trout
was a gamey one, and the swiftness of the current made the task of
securing him doubly hard.

"I'll work, all right, for everything I hook here," panted Jerry, after
ten minutes had passed, and he tossed his exhausted prize over to the
bank.

But he would not give up. Where one such fine, fat fellow held out there
was certainly a chance for more, so he continued his fishing.

Unknown to him, Will had also wandered up that steep hillside, searching
for a new view of the wonderful cataract. Pushing through the dense
thickets, he chanced to catch a glimpse of the lone fisherman.

"Now, that's what I call a picturesque sight! Look at the chap perched
out on the very end of that log, with the water rushing below like a
mill-race! Here's where I get you, my duck. Fancy to what ends a
fisherman will go in order to enjoy his favorite sport."

Will seemed to forget entirely that he was willing to undertake just as
long a pilgrimage and buck up against as difficult problems simply to
get one snapshot that appealed to his soul.

"There! He's got another fish on! My! How it pulls! I wouldn't be out on
that log, doing such a job, for anything. But I just bet Jerry is as
happy as a clam. He sets his teeth, and holds on as if he had a whale,
and perhaps it is a big un! I must get him again in that position. Why,
although he don't know it, he's just giving me the best thing of the
day!"

Will rapidly adjusted his camera, and looked down to see that he had the
proper focus before snapping the shutter. The light was good up there,
and he believed he must have the greatest success with such a picture as
that. Besides, it had the genuine article of life in it, which he always
sought in taking his views.

Then he pressed his finger, in the belief that he was about to snatch a
snapshot bound to give the four chums the keenest satisfaction in days
to come.

"Oh!"

The startled exclamation broke involuntarily from the lips of Will even
at the very second he took his picture, and he let his beloved camera
fall to the ground, at the risk of doing it some material damage.

It was not this seeming mishap that had brought the startled cry from
his lips, but the crash of sundering wood, and the sudden disappearance
of the lone fisherman below the rim of the river bank; for the log had
finally betrayed Jerry, and dropped him into that swirling, maddening
current above the high falls!




CHAPTER XIII

AN INVADER IN CAMP


Will dashed madly toward the river bank. It happened that he was
somewhat below the point where Jerry's mishap had come about. Hence, he
was able to reach the edge of the stream in a dozen seconds.

Even that short time had been enough to sweep the imperiled lad past the
place. Will was thrilled with horror to see his chum in the midst of the
churning current, trying to cling to a slippery rock, from which
insecure hold he was being gradually but surely sucked by the fierce
power exerted by the rushing stream.

Never had the roar of the falls sounded more terrible to poor Will than
when he saw Jerry suspended, as it were, above the great drop. Once he
lost his hold, he must be swept irresistibly over the edge, down to
those cruel rocks below.

Will would have foolishly attempted to reach his chum had he chanced to
be opposite the place where Jerry hung on with the desperation of
despair. As it was, he could do nothing, which was just as well, for
there must only have been two of them given over to the river once he
ventured into that mill-race.

"Help! Oh, help!" he shrieked.

The roar of the cataract must have muffled his call, so that it might
just as well have been a whisper.

Just as Will was about to give up in despair, and count Jerry as good as
lost, he made a sudden discovery. Another figure had appeared on the
bank, and just at a point opposite the rock to which Jerry clung.

"Reddy! Save him! save him!" cried Will, wringing his hands.

Then he became mute with suspense. The cowboy did not recklessly rush
into the boiling flood, for he knew only too well that such a course
could not help the imperiled one. Instead, Will saw him whirling his
rope about his head with lightning-like haste.

His heart in his eyes, Will continued to stare, holding his very breath.
He saw the coils of rope fly out just as when Reddy was giving his
exhibition in camp. Not far did they have to speed, for Jerry was close
to the shore.

"Oh! what luck! He's done it! He's done it! Jerry has the rope now, and
he is coming in, hand over hand! Bully! bully! bully!"

Will was so excited that he fairly danced up and down as he shouted
these words aloud. Then, bethinking himself of what a magnificent
picture he was losing, he took several steps in the direction of the
spot where his camera lay. Stopping hastily, as his affection for his
chum more than counterbalanced his love for an effective scene, he
turned around and hurried to join the others.

Jerry was ashore, and wringing the hand of Reddy, when Will arrived.

Regardless of the rescued boy's wet clothes, Will threw his arms around
him.

"Oh! you gave me such a fright, Jerry! I'm quivering all over! How lucky
Reddy happened to be here, and with his rope, too!" After saying which
he turned his attention to the smiling cowboy, and squeezed his hand
ardently.

"I sure beat my record that time, boys. I've roped some queer things,
but never a feller that was going whoopin' over a falls. Don't know why
I sl