The Gun Club Boys of Lakeport

Yet urged by Joe, Harry took a score of steps or more. But now his teeth were chattering from the cold, and he could not stand, try his best. He sank a dead weight on the ice.

Filled with a new fear, Joe caught his brother up in his arms.

“If I leave him here he’ll surely die!” he muttered, hoarsely. “I must get him to the island somehow! I must!”

Throwing the semi-unconscious form over his shoulder, he staggered on until he came to a deep ridge of snow. Here he stumbled and fell. He tried to get up, but his shaking limbs refused to hold him.

“It’s no use,” he thought. “It’s all over.”

He caught sight of Harry’s gun, and reaching for it, pulled the trigger. He listened, and fancied he heard an answering shot. But he was not sure. It might have been only the wind.

“If only the others knew!” he murmured, and then sank down beside Harry, all but unconscious from the cold and exhaustion.

CHAPTER XIV

THE ENEMY ASKS A FAVOR

As soon as he reached the lake shore, Joel Runnell realized that the snowstorm was fast turning into a blizzard that was likely to last for several days.

“It’s going to be a hummer,” muttered the old hunter to himself. And then, as he gazed out upon the storm-swept ice, he added: “It’s too bad those boys ain’t back.”

Pulling down his cap and buttoning his coat up around his ears, he stepped out on the ice and began the journey to the main shore. The wind roared and tore all around him, and his progress was necessarily slow. More than once he had to stop to catch his breath.

It was during one of those resting spells that he heard a gun shot not many rods away. Feeling it must be a signal, he fired in return, and then started in the direction with all the speed he could command.

The first he knew of the proximity of the young hunters was when he stumbled over Joe’s body, half covered with the drifting snow.

“Joe!” he exclaimed. “And Harry! This is too bad!”

He bent over Joe, and tried his best to arouse the young hunter. This was difficult, but at last Joe opened his eyes and stared vacantly around him.

“Wha – what do you want? Why can’t you let me sleep?” he murmured, softly.

“Get up, Joe. You are close to camp. Rouse yourself, my boy. You can’t stay here.”

“Oh, Runnell, is it you? I – I – ”

“Yes, yes, I know. Get up. I’ll take Harry.”

The old hunter assisted Joe to his feet. Then he lifted Harry bodily, and with the younger lad over his shoulder, and the other by the arm, he started back whence he had come.

How they all reached shore was little short of a miracle, for the snow and wind whizzed and shrieked around them more madly than ever. Once Joel Runnell thought he would have to give up. But he set his teeth hard and pushed on, until at last he saw a flash of fire, and knew he was close to the shelter. He set up a feeble shout:

“Hello, Fred! Start up that fire, quick! And make a pot of hot coffee! I’ve found ’em, and they’re half frozen to death!”

At this cry Fred appeared. He was scared, but realizing that rapid action was necessary, he piled the wood on the camp fire and set a pot of water to boiling. Then he helped the others into the shelter and arranged the blankets afresh, that all of them might be made as warm and comfortable as possible.

Joe recovered before long, but they had to work over Harry a good half hour before old Runnell pronounced him out of danger. One of his ears had been nipped by the cold, and so had his left foot.

“It was a close call,” said Harry, when he could talk. “I sank down just as if I was in a dream. I felt horrible just before that, but that feeling passed completely away.”

“Such a sleep is what hunters call the sleep of death,” answered Joel Runnell, with a shudder. “I had it once, when I was a young man. I was half frozen, and it took me weeks to get over it.”

The hot coffee served to warm all of them up, and as soon as he felt able, Runnell went out to cut more wood, assisted by Fred. The latter wanted to go out on the lake and bring in the abandoned deer, but the old hunter would not listen to it.

“We’ll wait until the storm is over,” he said. “No use of risking your life now.”

The wood was piled on both sides of the shelter, and this helped to protect them from the wind. Runnell also placed a big flat rock over the fire, and when his was very hot, transferred it to the center of the shelter, and put another rock to heat.

“That will make a footwarmer,” he said. “And when it is cold, we can exchange it for the one that is now getting warm,” and this was done, much to the satisfaction of everybody.

All that night the snow fell as hard as ever, and toward morning the wind increased to such a degree that they were afraid the pines would come down over their heads. Nobody could sleep, and they crouched near the shelter entrance, ready to leap out at the first intimation of danger. At a distance they heard a large tree come down with the report of a cannon. The snow sifted in despite all they could do to keep it out, and they had to work constantly to keep from being snowed under and smothered.

“And to think that old Skeetles and Dan Marcy are having it as comfortable as you please at the lodge,” said Joe, in deep disgust. “It’s a shame!”

“Don’t say a word,” put in Fred. “For two pins I’d go over there and clear them out at the point of a gun.”

“In one way they are worse off than we are,” came from Harry. “They have nothing but deer meat, while we have all kinds of stores. They’ll get mighty sick of venison if they have to stay at the lodge many days.”

“I hope they do get sick.”

With the coming of daylight the wind went down a little. But it still snowed as hard as ever, and old Runnell advised that the young hunters remain in or near the shelter.

“I’ll go out and bring in that one deer,” he said. “The other one we’ll let go till later. We don’t really need it, anyway.”

He waited until nearly noon before starting, and in the meantime the boys banked up the snow all around the shelter and the fire, making a wall six feet and more in height.

“Now we’ve got our house inclosed in a yard,” came from Fred.

“We’ll get a good deal more of the heat than we did before,” said Harry, and he was right. With the wall forcing the heat into the shelter, the place was at last really comfortable.

Joel Runnell was out the best part of two hours, and the boys waited anxiously for his return. At last he hove into sight, covered with snow, and dragging one of the deer behind him. He had also brought in Harry’s gun, which had been lost the day before.

“No use of talking, the storm is fearful out on the lake,” said Runnell. “And down on the shore there is a ridge of snow all of twelve feet high. This will block everything for a while in Lakeport and elsewhere.”

“I suppose our folks will worry about us,” put in Harry. “It’s too bad they don’t know we are safe.”

The remainder of the day passed slowly. Harry had brought along a small measure of corn for popping, and they amused themselves by popping this over the fire, salting and eating it. Joel Runnell also told them a hunting story, which all enjoyed.

The next day the snow continued, and on the day following the wind again arose, sending the drifts higher than ever. Thus a Sunday was passed in the shelter. It was not until Tuesday noon that the storm passed away as if by magic, and the sun came out brightly.

“Hurrah! it’s over at last, thank goodness!” cried Harry, as he leaped outdoors. “My! but doesn’t it feel good to see the sun once more!”

“That’s all right,” returned Fred. “But if we aren’t snowed in we are next door to it.”

“The sun will make the snow just right for snowshoe walking,” said Joe. “And we ought to be able to track down some sort of game without half trying.”

They found the pines above the shelter fairly groaning with their weight of snow. But back of these the ground was swept almost bare.