CHAPTER IX
LOST
Will Bertram discovered two things as he thrilled to a realization of his true position.
Some ten feet away was daylight penetrating through the main aperture to the cave, while directly in front of him and against this light was the great, crouching body of the bear itself.
Its eyes, like two sparks of yellow fire, glared fixedly upon him, while its low grumblings told that its rage was fully aroused.
Will stood rooted to the spot, but only for a moment, for a movement on the part of the bear aroused him to sudden action.
Springing forward, the animal brought its huge foot across the intruder’s arm, tearing the sleeve of his coat into shreds.
The torch had fallen to the floor of the cave, and still flickered brightly. With no weapon to defend himself, Will stooped and seized it, and brandished it squarely in the bear’s face.
With a growl, the animal retreated a step or two but maintained a strict and entire guardianship of the way leading to the main exit from the cave.
Will gave a quick glance behind him but instantly abandoned all thoughts of escaping by the way he had come.
The aperture was at the end of a slanting decline and several feet above his head.
To climb up that would consume time, and the bruin, more agile than he, would certainly overtake him ere he had accomplished the exit.
In a flash, Will decided that but one way of escape lay open to him, and that was by dashing past the bear through the main entrance, beyond which a glance revealed Tom Dalton.
The cave narrowed as it came to this spot, and this passageway was almost completely filled by the bear’s enormous body.
The animal seemed ready for a second onslaught on the intruder, when Will, waving the torch so as to cause it to flame still more, again thrust it into the animal’s face.
The bruin roared with pain and rage and showed his horrible fangs, but retreated slowly.
“If I could only drive him to the open air,” murmured Will, tumultuously.
There seemed but little hope of this, however, for the bear at last appeared to make a sullen stand, and half-raised himself, as if to spring on Will.
The latter could see open daylight beyond. A few feet more and he believed he could rush past the bear in safety.
With a last, desperate movement he flung the burning torch square at the head of the bear.
The animal crouched back and then turned with a frightful howl.
A sudden, clicking snap echoed in the air, and the bear seemed struggling and floundering in a strange way.
“The trap!” cried Will, wildly.
His excited words expressed the bear’s dilemma. The bruin, enraged and retreating, had walked into the very snare he had before avoided.
He was foaming with rage, and, his hind legs firmly caught between the clamps of the immense steel trap set at the mouth of the cave, was struggling wildly to release himself.
With a shout of relief and joy, Will darted past the imprisoned bear and into the open air.
He found Tom Dalton standing staring at the bear in open-mouthed wonderment.
The trap was secured by an iron chain around a tree, and, although it allowed the bruin a certain range of action, it held him a prisoner.
Tom was struck on the arm and came very near within the bear’s floundering grasp, but Will pulled him aside in time to avoid a crushing blow from the animal’s heavy paw.
Will entertained his companion with a vivid account of his adventure.
“You run to the camp and tell Mr. Hunter what has occurred,” he said when he had concluded his story. “I’ll stay and watch the bear.”
Mr. Hunter and several of the men arrived soon. He complimented Will on his capture, and pronounced the bear a fine specimen of his species.
Will watched the men interestedly as, with the aid of poles and hooks, they secured the bruin so that he could not injure them when they conveyed him to a cage wagon that was sent for.
Some chloroform on a sponge robbed the bruin of his natural fierceness, and he was finally safely caged.
The ensuing morning a fox and a wolf were found, with other smaller animals, in the traps, set in various places around the camp.
The history of one day was that of all the week spent at the camp. One wagon was ready to send back, and then Mr. Hunter announced that they would push on still further into the wilderness.
It was an exciting and interesting tramp for the two boys. The ensuing three weeks were the busiest ones they had ever known.
They learned how the moose, the deer, the otter, the catamount, and other animals were captured, and many a thrilling experience was theirs in a quest for rare birds amid the lonely forests.
When the snow became compact, rude runners were substituted for wheels on the wagons, and several of the vehicles left the expedition filled with captured animals and birds.
When they were traveling it would sometimes be entire days ere they would come across a settlement or even a house.
It was just about a month after leaving Watertown when, one day, an incident occurred that materially changed all the plans of the two boys who had so strangely become members of the expedition.
They had orders to prepare for a new move that night, and early in the day had gone back by the route they had come to a place where a rocky formation in the landscape had suggested the idea of successful bird hunting.
Several eagles had been noticed by the boys, and it was to capture one of these that they determined to make the expedition on their own account.
The weather had become mild, and the snow had almost disappeared. Mr. Hunter warned them not to go too far from the camp, as a storm was threatened.
Provided with ropes and snares, Will and Tom reached the spot they had in view, and for over an hour wandered about the place.
At last, some distance away, they made out several large birds circling about a rocky point of land.
Will suggested that they visit the spot, and this took them still farther away from the camp.
Clambering over the rocks, exploring this and that secluded aerie, and endeavoring to snare some of the birds, which they thought to be eagles, the hours passed so rapidly away that dusk grew upon them before they realized how the day had advanced.
“Why, Will, it’s getting dark!” suddenly exclaimed Tom.
They abandoned their efforts at catching the birds and descended to the level plain beneath.
The scenery around them seemed utterly unfamiliar, and Will was somewhat alarmed, as he found that he was considerably confused as to the points of the compass.
However, he finally decided upon what he supposed to be the direction in which the camp lay, and they started forward on their way.
Darkness came on, and, although they had progressed several miles, they were more bewildered than ever concerning their real whereabouts.
Any person who has been lost knows how, in the effort to regain some familiar landmark, the mind becomes affrighted and bewildered, and the feet wander unconsciously and aimlessly.
It was so with Will and Tom. It must have been nearly morning before they came to a halt.
They built a fire in a thicket and determined to wait until daybreak before they attempted again to ascertain their bearings or endeavored to reach the camp.
Will had not imparted his real anxieties to Tom, but when, the ensuing day, several hours’ wandering failed to reveal any trace of the camp or its proximity, he began to exhibit a deep concern.
“See here, Tom,” he said, frankly, at last, “I’ve led you to believe that it was only a matter of time in reaching the camp.”
“Yes, Will.”
“Well, I thought it was, but I’ve changed my mind.”
“You said the opening here looked like one near our last camping place.”
“I was mistaken.”
“Then you don’t think we’ll reach camp tonight?”
“I’m afraid not, Tom. There’s no use evading the true condition of affairs. We’ve been going in the wrong direction all day. We are lost!”
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