Part 3 (1/2)
”He said he had an enduring affection for the traps, and that if we could manage to carry a few, he'd think it just prime. I suppose an old fellow does kind of get attached to anything he's handled so long.
P'raps some of the traps have histories, too. And since we expect to make a sledge, and pull all our stuff over the snow to where we agreed to meet Frazer on Christmas day, why, chances are, we can take the whole caboodle out of the mountains. I know it would tickle the old man a lot, and he's been mighty kind to me, let me tell you, Felix.”
”Oh! we can do that easy enough,” returned Felix, always ready to oblige; ”when we leave here there'll be plenty of snow; and with our shoes we can make good time, picking out a day that's suited to the work.”
Tom went over to the lower bunk. Getting down on his hands and knees he reached underneath, and presently drew forth what seemed to be a rudely made box. This he had some difficulty in opening, and when the top was finally pried off they found that the traps had been wrapped, each one, in an old, poor quality skin, that seemed to be in a pretty good state of preservation.
Of course Old Sol had expected to be up there again on the following Fall, when he put his traps away like this; and never dreamed that three years would slip by before the cache was opened. But he had carefully greased them with bear's fat, and as a whole they were looking very decent.
Altogether they made quite an a.s.sortment when Tom laid them out. The boy handled them almost with reverence. He knew that, as he had said before, each one must have a history. Many a story could they tell, if those grim-looking jaws could only speak--stories of captured wild animals galore, and of more than one fierce fight before the prisoner finally gave up the ghost.
”Tomorrow, perhaps, we can get several of these placed,” Tom remarked, as, having hung the traps up from pegs in the wall, he started preparations looking to having some warm lunch, for the day was quite cold. ”If I go out for a little turn this afternoon, as you said, why, I'll keep my eyes about me for likely places. Sol, in his many stories about his life up here, gave me more than a few hints about the favorite places he had for certain animals. I rather guess this place must have been his pet camp, and he used several in his day.”
Felix was not quite recovered from his fatigue, and hence it had been agreed between them that perhaps he would be wise to stay in camp, and let Tom take the first look for meat.
Tom was as tough as a pine-knot. He had been used to roughing it all his life, and hardly knew such a thing as getting real tired. Besides, as he had known Old Sol personally, the chances were he would be able to find a deer more quickly than his cousin might. With that rough chart to guide him, and the stories of the old trapper still fresh in his mind, Tom believed he had a pretty comprehensive idea concerning the lay of the land, even before he had taken one step towards exploring the vicinity.
”The woods ought to be good enough for me,” he had said; ”and I hope to bring back a load of juicy venison; but if I don't strike up with my deer, why, we'll just have to fall back on that piece of ham that's left over.”
”I hope not,” remarked Felix, with a shrug; ”I'm just tired of ham and bacon for a steady diet, and ache to have a piece of venison between my teeth. So here's wis.h.i.+ng you the best luck ever, Tom, which is saying a good word for myself, too.”
When Tom shouldered his gun, and took one last look at the now cozy interior of the cabin, he smiled back at his chum.
”Let me tell you, Felix,” he remarked, ”it looks good to me already; and I just know we're going to have the best sort of time up here, if only we manage to keep the wolf from the door.”
”I'll do all I can to a.s.sist,” laughingly responded Felix, little dreaming how shortly circ.u.mstances, just then utterly unseen, would bring these words of his companion forcibly before his mind.
”If you feel like it, Felix, you might be cutting up that big limb that was torn off the tree in some storm; we can't have too big a pile of fire wood, against the coming of winter, you know; and once we get a string of traps to look after, the less time we have to spend in chopping wood, the better.”
And with these words, followed by a cheery wave of his chum's hand, Tom strode off for his first side hunt. They really were in need of fresh meat. Some five days had pa.s.sed since leaving home, and with three to feed part of the time, this had made a little hole in the stock of provisions brought along with them.
Tom had done a great deal of hunting, and was familiar with most of the tricks resorted to by those who are most successful in getting game. Of course he took occasion to notice the direction of the wind before leaving the cabin. It would be the height of folly to try and stalk a deer with the breeze blowing his scent directly to the delicate nostrils of his intended quarry, for the wary animal must detect his presence long before he could hope to get within gunshot, and as a consequence would be off ”like a streak of greased lightning,” as Tom himself put it.
As he went along, the boy kept his eyes about him, observing numerous things of a nature to interest a hunter and trapper. The sigh of the wind through the tree-tops was sweetest music in the ears of Tom Tucker; many a night had it lulled him to sleep when in the woods; or stealing softly over the gra.s.sy prairie, where the cattle grazed, it had carried with it the chirp of crickets and katydids and all the other familiar sounds of a summer night on the range.
Never a leaf came floating to the ground near him but that his quick eye sought it out instinctively. If some little squirrel rustled the leaves, his ear was on the alert, even as his eager finger touched the trigger of his gun, ready for a shot at a bounding black-tail deer.
So Tom went on for perhaps an hour.
He was not more than half a mile away from the camp at most, since he had considered it good policy to make a half circle, covering as much ground as possible in this, his first tramp.
So far he had seen nothing worth shooting at, though signs of deer had caught his watchful eye numerous times; and he felt sure they used these grounds for feeding purposes, as there were patches of green gra.s.s every little while.
And then, all of a sudden, there was a loud rustle of the leaves that sent a thrill through the young hunter. He saw a deer leap over a fallen tree with all the ease in the world, and start to bound away, taking great springs. Instinct rather than anything else caused Tom to throw his rifle to his shoulder; and then he fired, just as the buck turned slightly in order to avoid some obstruction, which Tom had already known would make him veer.
With a crash the deer went down. Throwing another cartridge into the firing chamber of his gun, Tom started full speed toward the spot, ready to finish his quarry, if such a thing proved necessary; for he had known deer to get up again, full of fight, after being thrown to the ground by a shot.
But that first well-placed ball had accomplished its work. The buck was dead by the time Tom reached the spot, pleased with his success, which he looked upon as a splendid sign of future luck.
As the afternoon was well along, and he would have half a mile to ”tote”