Allen Chapman

“ As they emerged from the cabin, they were not aware of a pair of sharp, ferret-like eyes watching them from the hidden shelter of the lean-to. As the wind was blowing toward that shack, and not away from it, the dog was not this time apprised by scent of the closeness of an enemy, whatever had happened the night before.
“Well, let’s start,” proposed Tom. “This is the road to Ramsen,” and he pointed to the almost snow-obliterated highway that ran in front of the deserted cabin they were leaving. ”

“ Tom cried. “You might kill him! That’s a man—not a bear, Bert!”
“I know it,” was the calm answer. “I only fired over his head to scare him. Look at him scoot, would you?”
And indeed the black object that George had thought was a bear suddenly straightened up, revealing itself to be a man. He ran with fast strides toward the circle of woods that were all about the hunting cabin. The man reached the shelter of the black trees a little later, and was soon lost to sight.
“A man!” gasped George. “It was a man!”
“That’s what it was,” added Bert.
“Well, what do you know about that?” demanded Jack. ”

“ A blaze was not unwelcome, for it was growing colder, and there were signs of a storm.
As our friends sat about the cozy, crackling blaze on the hearth they were unaware of three men, on the edge of the little clearing in which the cabin stood—three men who were gazing at the smoke curling up from the chimney.
“Yes, there they are!” grumbled the one known as Whalen. “There they are in their cabin, nice and warm, and with plenty to eat, and we’re out in the cold. I don’t like it, I say! I don’t like it!”
“Now, don’t get rash!” observed Professor Skeel, for he was of the trio. ”

“ They set out on a new trail, one they had not traveled before, but they had not gone far on it before Tom, who was in the lead, came to a sudden halt, and uttered an exclamation of surprise.
“What’s the matter?” called Jack, who was directly behind him. “See some bear tracks?”
“No, these are Skeel tracks, I should say. Those fellows must be just ahead of us, for the marks seem quite fresh.”
Tom pointed to some impressions in the snow. Among them were footprints showing that same star mark in hob nails.
“I wonder why they’re trailing and following us?” remarked Bert. “It can’t be just for fun.” ”

“ They had had great hopes, but that was all.
“Come on if we’re going to yell,” suggested Jack. “And if we don’t raise someone, we’ll prepare to stay here. It’s the best we can do, fellows.”
They united their voices in a shout, and the dog added to the din by barking. He seemed to feel better when the lads were making as much noise as they could.
But the echoes of the boys’ voices, blown back to them by the snow-laden wind, was all the answer they received. They waited, and called again, but no one replied to them. Nor, as at least George half-expected, did they hear the growls of a bear. ”

“ Tom said. “Let’s try some other route.”
“Say!” cried Jack. “What’s the sense of all four of us going in the same direction all the while? Why not try four ways at once? The one who finds the road can fire two shots in quick succession. The rest of us will then come to where we hear the shots.”
“A good idea!” commented Tom. “We’ll try it. Scatter now, and don’t go too far. Oh, you’re coming with me, are you, Towser?” for the dog followed him, evidently considering Tom his master.
The four boys now set off in different directions, and soon were lost to sight of one another in the storm. ”

“ Emptied sardine tins, olive bottles which contained only the appetizing odor, pasteboard cartons of crackers or other cakes, ginger-ale bottles with only a few drops of the beverage in the bottom, papers and paper bags, the pasteboard circlets from Charlotte russes—these and many more things from the forbidden midnight feast were piled on the steps. Then the conspirators stole away, one by one, as they had come.
Tom Fairfield lingered last to make a more artistic arrangement of the empty bottles; then he, too, joined his chums. ”

“ Jack said with a smile, “but I don’t believe that is any good for a dog. Call him back, Tom. You seem to have more influence over him than anyone else, and he’s getting too far ahead. I wonder where he’s going, anyhow?”
“I don’t much care—Camp one, two, or three will suit me just about now,” Tom remarked, as he turned his face to avoid a stinging blast of snowflakes. “Surely the dog knows his way to all three of them, and, if they are too far, he may lead us to Sam’s farm. That wouldn’t be so bad.”
“Nothing would be bad where there was a warm fire and plenty of grub,” commented Bert. ”

“ There’s no one outside.”
Once more they disposed themselves before the cheerful blaze, the dog stretching out at full length to dry his shaggy coat that was wet with melting snow.
“I wonder what sort of a place this was?” spoke Jack, at length.
“Must have been a hunter’s cabin,” suggested Tom.
“It’s too big for that. This looks as though people had lived in it once,” declared Bert. “Besides, it’s too near the road for a hunter to want to use it. I guess the family died off, or moved away, and there isn’t enough population up here to make it so crowded that they have to use this shack.” ”

“ I like a man to take some interest in life.”
“Didn’t this man do that?” asked Tom, as he stowed his gun away on the straw-covered bottom of the pung.
“Not a cent’s worth!” cried Sam, who was hearty and bluff enough to suit anyone, and jolly in the bargain. “This chap sort of wrapped himself up in one of my fur robes, like one of them blanket Indians I read about out West, and he hardly spoke the whole trip. But you’ll probably see him over at Hounson’s. Well, are you boys all ready?”
“I guess so,” assented Bert, as he slung his camera over his shoulder by a strap. ”

“ They could only tell where he was by his barks, and by an occasional flurry of snow as he burrowed in some drift and then scrambled out again.
“Better call him back again, Tom,” suggested George. “He’ll get away beyond us, and soon it will be so dark we can’t see our hands before our faces.”
“Yes, I guess I will,” Tom assented. “I’d put a leash on him if I had a bit of cord, and hold him back.” ”

“ Jack wanted to know.
“Because if he had a gun, he would have fired at the bear, and we’d have seen some change in the bear’s trail. Bruin would either have run at the shot, or attacked the man, provided the bullet didn’t kill at once. And you can see for yourselves that nothing like that happened. So I argue that the man had no gun.”
“Then he was Skeel, or one of his two partners,” said George.
“What makes you think that?” asked Bert, curiously.
“Because we never saw either of them with a gun.”
“That doesn’t prove anything,” Tom said. “There are lots of men in these woods who haven’t guns. ”

“ It was an hour later, when, after several false alarms, the dog gave tongue to a peculiar cry.
“What’s that?” asked Jack.
“It’s a bear!” decided Bert. “Sam said the dog would yelp that way when he struck the trail. Come on, fellows!”
They ran forward to rejoin their dog, that had gone on ahead. He was now barking fast and furiously, and had evidently gotten on the track of something.
“Yes, it is a bear!” decided Tom, when he had noted the tracks in the snow. “And they’re fresh, too, otherwise the dog couldn’t smell ’em! They won’t lie long on snow. Go on, old sport!” ”

“ That was the extent of their luck for that day, however, except that both Bert and George secured some fine snapshots. When Sam had departed with the slain deer, the boys found a good place to stop, and build a fire to make coffee. They ate their lunch with such appetites as come only from life in the open, and, having finished, once more they set out on the trail.
But, though Jack, Bert and George each hoped for a repetition of Tom’s luck, in some modified form, it was not to be. ”

“ George went on.
“Quit talking about it,” urged Tom. “That doesn’t do any good, and it makes all of us feel badly. Have a snow sandwich!”
“It makes you too thirsty,” interposed Jack. “If you want to drink, we’ll stop, make a fire of some fir branches, and melt snow in our tin [151] coffee cups. If you start chewing flakes, you’ll get a sore mouth, and other things will happen to you. That’s what a fellow wrote in a book on Arctic travel.”
“If only we hadn’t eaten all the grub!” sighed Bert. ”

“ What do you mean?” asked the professor.
“I mean just what I said—‘a wrong signboard’—one that gives the wrong direction. It’s worse than none at all, isn’t it?”
“Well, I should say it was,” was the slow answer of the former teacher. “But are you going to get Tom Fairfield——”
“Now, don’t ask too many questions,” was the advice of his evil-faced crony. “When you don’t know a thing, you can say so with a clear conscience in case the detectives get asking too many personal questions of you.”
“That’s so,” agreed Professor Skeel, readily understanding what was meant.
“Detectives!” exclaimed Whalen. ”

“ Tom and his chums had no false notions about their hunting trip. They did not expect much in the way of big game, though they had been told that at some seasons bear and deer were plentiful. But while they had hopes that they might bag one of those large animals, they were not too sanguine.
“We’ll stand better chances on deer than bears,” said Tom. “For the bears are likely to be ‘holed up’ by now, though there may be one or two stray ones out that haven’t fatted up enough to insure a comfortable sleep all Winter. ”

“ Is he trying to get back on the faculty of Elmwood Hall?”
No one answered his questions, nor did Tom, or any of the others, rebuke Why for his queries. They had too much else to think about.
“Well, young men, well!” began Professor Skeel in his pompous voice. “Well, are you responsible for this?”
“I—I’m afraid we are,” said Tom. He did not add “sir,” as once he would have done. He had lost the little respect he had for the former teacher, and when a man loses the respect of a manly youth, it is not good for that man. ”

“ Sam’s idea was not to leave the neighborhood where Tom had last been seen, until they had exhausted every effort to locate their missing chum.
But it was difficult to search in the storm, and the whirl of flakes made a long view impossible. Then, too, they were in a dense part of the wilderness. Sam Wilson’s farm was perhaps the largest cleared part of it, though here and there were patches where trees had been cut down.
Up and down the road, and on either side of it, the search went on. Sam Wilson was a born woodsman, as well as a hunter and farmer, and he brought his efficiency to the task. ”

“ Some of the others might see him,” was Skeel’s answer. Tom felt sure he referred to the bag.
“I wish they’d take this gag out of my mouth,” Tom mused. “I don’t care so much for the bag. But my tongue will feel like a piece of leather in a little while.”
On through the storm Tom was carried, on the shoulders of the two men. In fancy he could see the former instructor leading the way.
“He spoke of the old shack,” mused Tom. “I wonder if he means the deserted cabin where we were? If he takes me there, the boys will have a better chance of finding me if they look.” ”

“ It’s getting worse every minute, and we may stray off the road. We have found this shelter providentially, and we ought to take advantage of it. It will give us a half-decent place to stay, and we won’t be buried in the snow which may happen if we keep on.
“Come inside and stay here, that’s what I mean,” Tom went on. “It might be a heap-sight worse,” and he flashed his torch about the bare and crumbling ruin of the cabin.
“What!” cried Bert. “Do you mean to stay here all night?”
“Why not?” asked Tom. “It’s better than being out in the storm, isn’t it? ”