CHAPTER XV THE TRAIL TO NOWHERE

“Look out there!”

“He’s coming this way!”

“Run for your lives!”

These shouts were mingled with shots from several of the pistols, none of which, however, took effect, for the sudden advance of the wounded bear had disconcerted the aim of the young hunters.

The youths scattered to the right and the left behind the rocks and brushwood, and as the bear came lumbering forward, it looked as if for the time being he would have the place entirely to himself. Then, however, he caught sight of Roger and made a savage leap for the senator’s son.

Fortunately for the youth, the rifle he carried was a repeating weapon, and now he let drive once more, sending a ball along bruin’s flank. But this attack only served to increase the rage of the animal, and with a ferocious snarl he sprang forward and made a pass at Roger with one of his heavy paws.

153Had this blow landed as intended, it is more than likely the senator’s son would have been felled and perhaps seriously hurt. But by a quick backward spring, the young civil engineer dodged the attack. Then he fired again, and this was followed almost simultaneously by discharges from the pistols of Phil and Ben. But all the bullets flew harmlessly over the beast’s head.

“Run, Roger! Run!” yelled the shipowner’s son. “Run, or he’ll knock you down sure and kill you!”

Roger needed no such advice, because he already realized his peril. He turned to retreat, but in his haste tripped over the uneven rocks and went pitching headlong into some nearby brushwood.

It was at this time, when the matter looked exceedingly serious, that Dave came once more to the front. He had succeeded in reloading the shotgun, and now, advancing rapidly, he took careful aim at the bear and fired twice.

The first discharge from the shotgun took the huge beast directly in the neck, and as he made a leap forward, as if to cover the distance that separated him from our hero, the second dose of shot landed in his stomach. He let out a frightful roar of pain and rage, and then pitched forward with a crash on a rock and rolled over and over down into a nearby hollow.

154“Reload as fast as you can, fellows!” ordered Dave. “Don’t take any chances. Neither of those beasts may be dead;” and he started at once to look after his own weapon.

Years before his Uncle Dunston, who, as my old readers know, was a famous hunter, had impressed upon the youth the truth that an unloaded weapon is a very useless affair.

It must be admitted that Roger’s hand shook not a little while he was looking to make sure that his rifle was in condition for further use. Poor Shadow had gone white, and now sat on a flat rock, too weak in the knees to stand up.

“Maybe we had better give the bears some more shots before we go near them,” suggested the former story-teller of Oak Hall, in a voice which sounded strangely unnatural even to himself.

“It wouldn’t do any harm to give them a few shots from the pistols,” answered Dave. “Then we can all say we had a hand in laying them low.” And thereupon those who possessed the smaller weapons proceeded to make sure that the bears should never have a chance to fight again.

“Dave, I’ve got to hand it to you for coming to my assistance,” said Roger warmly, as soon as he had recovered from his scare. “Gracious! I thought sure that bear was going to jump right on me!”

Dave took careful aim at the bear and fired.—Page 153.

155“Dave is the head hunter of this crowd,” announced Phil.

“He takes after his Uncle Dunston when it comes to shooting,” put in Ben. “Both of them can hit the bull’s-eye without half trying.”

“I—I—don’t think I want to do much hunting after this,” was Shadow’s comment. “That is, hunting for big game. I wouldn’t mind going out after rabbits and birds and things like that.”

“Oh, you’ll get used to it after a while, Shadow,” answered Dave. “I know how I felt when I faced my first big game. I had all I could do to steady my nerves.”

“Not such very big bears, when you come to look them over,” said Ben, who was making a close inspection.

“They certainly looked big enough when they stood up on their hind legs and came for us,” answered Phil. “I guess a bear must shrink after he’s dead;” and at this remark there was something of a laugh. Now that the tension had been removed, some of the youths were inclined to be a bit hysterical.

“What are we going to do with the bears?” questioned Phil.

“Can’t we save the skins and the heads?” asked Ben.

“Yes, we can do that,” answered Dave. “I don’t believe the skins are particularly good at this 156time of the year, but you fellows might draw lots for them and take them home as trophies of the occasion.”

On their numerous hunting trips Dave and Roger, as well as Phil, had seen large game skinned and dressed on more than one occasion, and, consequently, the task before them was not an altogether new one. In the outfit they had brought along there was a hunting-knife, and also a good sharp carving-knife, and with these tools, and the aid of the hatchet they had brought along, they set to work to skin both of the bears and cut each head from the rest of the body. It was no easy job, and took much longer than they had anticipated.

“As soon as we have finished we had better make for the construction camp,” said Dave.

“What are you going to do with the bear meat?” asked Roger. “It’s a shame to leave it here.”

“We can cut out some of the best of the steaks, Roger; and then we can hang the rest of the meat up on the limbs of a tree. Then, if we want to come back for it to-morrow, or any of the others at the camp want to come and get it, why all right.”

One of the saddle-bags was cleaned out, and in this they placed the very choicest of the bear steaks. Then the heads and pelts were rolled up 157and strapped into bundles. After that, by means of the lariat, they hoisted one carcass after the other into the branches of the nearest tree and there fastened them with straps.

The horses were uneasy, evidently scenting the blood of the bears. They did not seem to fancy the idea of carrying the pelts and steaks, and the youths had all they could do to make the animals behave. But all the young men were used to riding, and so, after a little prancing around, they made the steeds steady themselves, and then the journey back to the construction camp was begun.

“I think it is quite a while since a bear was brought down in this neighborhood,” said our hero, while they were riding along. “Old Hixon told me he had been on their trail a number of times, but he could never get close enough to get a shot.”

It was already growing dark, and long before the construction camp came into view, the sun sank over the tops of the mountains in the west and the long shadows began to creep across the valley.

“I hope you are sure of where you are going, Dave,” said Phil, as he rode alongside of his chum.

“I’m not so very sure of this trail, Phil,” was the slow answer. “You see, this is a new bit of territory to Roger and me.” He turned to 158the senator’s son. “What do you think of it?”

“I hope we are on the right way,” was the ready reply. “I think inside of another half hour we’ll strike the regular trail between the camp and the railroad station.”

Soon the shadows had reached the summit of the mountain behind them, and then the darkness of night came on rapidly. As the trail was a most uncertain one, they had to proceed slower and slower, for fear of running into some danger which might lurk ahead.

“It’s a pity one of us didn’t bring a flashlight along,” said Ben. “Then we could make sure of what sort of footing was ahead.” They were passing over some loose rocks at the time, and these occasionally made the horses slip and slide. Once Phil’s animal went to his knees, and made a great splurge and clatter regaining his footing.

“This is certainly some lonely spot,” was Roger’s comment, after they had gone forward another quarter of a mile. “There doesn’t seem to be a cabin or a camp of any sort in sight.”

“Listen! What’s that?” cried Shadow suddenly, and came close up beside Dave.

Far away in the woods they heard a peculiar sound. They listened intently for several minutes, and then the sound was repeated.

“I don’t think it’s anything more than a hoot owl or something of that sort,” said our hero.

159“Just what I think,” answered Roger. “I’ve heard that cry several times since I came to Montana. It’s a bird of some sort.”

They had been going downward, but now the little trail they were following led up over more loose rocks, and then into a thicket of underbrush. Beyond this they came to the edge of the mountain forest. Here Roger called a halt.

“This doesn’t look very good to me,” declared the senator’s son. “The trail is getting worse and worse, and now it seems to lead directly into these big woods.”

“We had better go slow about getting in among trees,” announced Phil. “We might become hopelessly lost.”

“Then what do you propose to do?” demanded Ben. “Go back?”

“I’m sure I don’t know. I am willing to leave it to Dave and Roger. They know a great deal more about this section of the country than we do.”

“We don’t know much about this particular piece of ground we are on right now,” answered the senator’s son. “I can’t remember that I was ever in this vicinity before.”

“Nor I,” added Dave. “Ever since we left the place where we had our lunch this noon, the trail has been a strange one to me. Just the same, I think we have been heading in the general direction 160of the construction camp. For all we know, it may be right on the other side of these big woods.”

Dave brought out his pocket compass, and he and Roger inspected it carefully by the light from a match. Then the two talked the matter over for several minutes.

“I’ll tell you what I think about it,” declared our hero finally. “I think the best thing we can do is to skirt the woods instead of going through them.”

“I’m sure it would be safer,” added Phil.

To skirt the edge of the forest, they had to leave the trail entirely and pick their way as best they could among the rocks and brushwood. Soon the horses hesitated about going forward, and then they had to dismount and lead the animals.

“If we can’t locate the camp after we get around the edge of the woods, what are we going to do?” questioned Roger of our hero in a low voice, so that the others who were coming on behind might not hear.

“I’m sure I don’t know, Roger,” was the unsatisfactory reply.

“We’ve got to do something, Dave. We can’t stay out here all night.”

“Oh, yes, we can if we have to. If it becomes 161necessary to do so, we can go into camp, light a fire, and broil some of those bear steaks.”

“Yes, we could do that. And bear steaks wouldn’t be half bad, seeing how hungry I am getting,” returned the senator’s son. “But just the same, I’d rather get back to our camp to-night.”