CHAPTER VIII
ON THE MARCH
Will Bertram’s expressive face must have betrayed to Mr. Hunter that the stowaway was a friend, for that gentleman regarded Tom with a critical, amused smile, and then asked Will:
“You know this boy?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Who is he?”
“Tom Dalton. He is from Watertown, but how he came here is more than I can tell.”
Tom stood sullenly regarding the curious men around him, half-cowering as if expecting the usual beating he had received on board the Golden Moose for any delinquency.
“Come to the fire and warm yourself, and get something to eat,” said Mr. Hunter, in a kindly tone, to the friendless runaway.
Tom crept to the campfire with a look of infinite relief. He evaded Will’s glance sheepishly and was entirely silent until the rude, but plentiful, evening repast was finished.
Will was consumed with curiosity to learn by what strange series of circumstances Tom had become a member of the wagon train, but no opportunity presented itself to question him.
Mr. Hunter himself, however, took Tom in hand and drew from him the story of his escapade.
Briefly related, it was to the effect that after the fire at the mill, concerning which Will had spoken freely to Mr. Hunter, he had wandered away from Watertown.
Tom remembered all Will had told him about the proposed expedition, recalling even the location of the meeting place.
The temptations offered by the expected trip to the wilderness were too much for Tom. He climbed into a wagon and had lain snugly ensconced in his hiding place until now.
“And what do you expect I’m going to do with you?” inquired Mr. Hunter.
“Let me work for you, sir,” responded Tom, promptly.
“Good! I will,” and, to the infinite delight of Tom, he was accepted as a member of the caravan and assigned to a bunk in the same wagon with Will.
The evening around the campfire, during which rare stories of adventure held the boys spellbound, the jaunt through a strange country, and the zest of anticipated pleasure when hunting and trapping should begin, made the time pass rapidly to Will and Tom.
The history of each succeeding day tallied with its predecessor in the main details of the incident, except that the caravan was penetrating farther and farther into the belt of the uninhabited territory where their actual operations were to begin.
The weather had been clear and cold, but the rivers they passed, so far, were free of ice, and the roads were not blocked with snow.
Mr. Hunter had predicted a change, and one evening it came. Since morning they had passed only one solitary hut, and he explained that they were entering a section of timber where some game might be found.
At any rate, the caravan was divided, and minute instructions were given for the future. Then the main party struck off into the wilderness.
The flakes began to fall thick and heavy as darkness came down. Mr. Hunter expressed his satisfaction at this.
“If we have a heavy fall of snow and it continues cold,” he said, “it will be just right for trapping. At any rate, we’ll stay here a day or two and reconnoiter.”
No campfire was built that night, the men huddling around their stoves in the living wagons.
It was cozy and warm for Will and Tom, but one of the drivers, whose horses had got loose and had to be hunted up, reported a severe experience.
“The snow’s getting terribly deep and blinding,” he said, “and, as I came up to the horses, I’m sure I heard and saw a wolf.”
“We’ll keep a watch on the horses, then,” said Mr. Hunter. “Are the traps all ready for use?” he inquired of the man who had charge of the equipment wagon.
“Yes, sir.”
“Very well; we’ll devote tomorrow and the next day to a search for animals. If the signs are plentiful we’ll make our first station here.”
Bright and early the two boys were awake and up. They found the ground foot deep with snow, and the vast forests, now covered with a mantle of white, presenting the aspect of a vast, untraversed wilderness.
Mr. Hunter joined them as they gathered a lot of wood for a fire, and invited them to take a brief tour of inspection with him.
His practiced eyes passed by no marks in the snow, and whenever he came to a series of tracks he examined them closely.
“Plenty of small animals,” he remarked; “and an occasional fox and wolf.”
“What is this?” inquired Will.
He pointed to a deep, heavy furrow in the snow, which looked as if some object had been dragged over its surface.
Mr. Hunter proceeded at once to follow the marks. Here and there a hole like that made by a horse’s foot would appear outside of the smooth indentation.
It led directly to a dark ravine and terminated at a cave-like aperture in a mound covered with stunted trees.
Here Mr. Hunter paused.
“You’ve made quite a discovery, Will,” he said.
“Is it an animal, sir?”
“Yes. Its footmarks are obscured by the object it seems to have been dragging along by its mouth.”
“And you think it’s in the cave there?”
“Undoubtedly.”
“What is it—a wolf or fox?”
“No, a bear.”
The announcement excited both boys tremendously.
“Let’s catch him,” cried Tom.
Mr. Hunter smiled.
“He’d catch us if he saw us unarmed as we are. No, we’ll get back to camp and get the traps out. Maybe by morning, Mr. Bruin will walk into the one we shall set for him.”
After breakfast, there was a busy time among the men. At Mr. Hunter’s direction traps and snares were set in various places, and Will and Tom were employed in gathering tree moss and abandoned nests for the aviary. A hawk and an owl were captured during the day, but it was the following morning that Mr. Hunter expected to find quite a number of animals in the traps baited overnight.
The large bear trap left at the entrance to the cave was a great objective point of interest to the boys, and they visited the spot several times, hoping to be the first to announce the capture of the bruin should that important event occur.
They stood before the entrance to the cave late in the afternoon regarding the set trap curiously.
“Do you see?” remarked Will, pointing to it.
“What?” inquired Tom.
“The meat is gone. It must be a cunning bear. He has sniffed the bait and cautiously eaten it off without putting his feet in.”
It certainly seemed that what Will said was true, for the marks of the animal’s feet could be traced in the snow that had blown into the entrance to its den.
Will left Tom at the place and announced his intention of going around the mound.
He made a new discovery as he came to the other side of the mound. A double track in the snow led to and from a clump of bushes, and these latter were brushed aside and broken as if recently passed over.
Will thrilled at his discovery. The cave had two entrances, and the bear, too keen-witted to step into the trap, was using this one as a means of entrance and exit.
“I believe I’ll have a look into the place,” murmured Will.
He parted the brushes and found a large aperture looking down into complete darkness.
Will’s curiosity overcame his prudence, and there being no indication of the presence of the bear, he withdrew his head, and, cutting a large, resinous knot from a tree near at hand, proceeded to ignite it with a match.
When it flared up sufficiently, he again approached the rear opening to the cave, brushed aside the bushes, and extended it far into the darkness.
Its radiance showed the clay floor of the cave a few feet below. Straining his eyes to pierce the darkness, Will met with an unexpected accident.
The bush he was holding to gave way, and he fell forward precipitately. The torch was hurled downwards, while he himself plunged head foremost into the cave.
Bruised and startled, he scrambled to his feet.
At that moment a terrific roar echoed through the darkness and gloom of the cave.
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