The Gun Club Boys of Lakeport

In the meantime the bear continued to stand in front of Joe, as if meditating an attack in spite of the fire. Once it raised a fore paw as if to strike the brand from the young hunter’s hand, but Joe did not permit this, and now the boy caught up a second stick, which was blazing at one end, and threatened the bear.

Again there was a roar of commingled rage and fear, and the bear leaped back, wrecking the table as it did so.

It must be confessed that Joe was badly alarmed. He felt that he was in close quarters, and unless somebody came to his help very quickly, the bear would, in some manner, get the better of him.

Glancing toward the window, he saw a dark object there. It was the head of Joel Runnell, and next followed the glistening barrel of the old hunter’s rifle.

“Hold up the light, Joe,” called old Runnell, and at the sound of his voice the bear wheeled around and stared toward the window with interest.

Crack! It was the rifle that rang out. But just as Joel Runnell pulled upon the trigger the bear turned to one side, so that the ball merely grazed its neck and side. Then came another roar, and, leaping over the wrecked table, the beast dove through the doorway leading to the sleeping apartment of the lodge and disappeared.

“Where did he go to?” cried old Runnell, as he lost no time in reloading.

“Into the sleeping-room. I don’t think he is hurt very much.”

The doorway was not far from the chimney, and with the firebrands still in his hands, Joe made his way to the door. Then the fastening was removed and he plunged outside.

“Good!” cried Harry. “Are you hurt?”

“Not a scratch. But it was a close shave,” and Joe heaved a sigh of relief.

“What is the bear doing?” asked Fred.

“I don’t know.”

“Fasten the door from the outside,” said Joel Runnell. “We don’t want to lose that animal.”

A stout stick of wood was handy, and this was propped up against the door, so that it could not be budged unless torn from its hinges.

While the young hunters were doing this Joel Runnell watched the window, with his rifle ready for use, should the bear make its appearance.

“You don’t expect to go in there after the bear, do you?” questioned Fred. “I wouldn’t do that for a million dollars.”

“I shan’t go in there yet,” answered the old hunter. “I know a trick worth two of that.”

“What will you do?” asked Harry.

“Let us try smoking him out. While I continue to watch the window, you get a damp tree branch and set it on fire. Then chop a small hole in the side of the lodge close to the ground, and let the smoke drift inside.”

“That’s a good plan,” said Joe.

The damp branch was procured without difficulty, and soon it was burning slightly and smoking thickly. While Fred and Joe held the branch, Harry cut a small hole as directed. In answer to the sound of the ax came a growl from the bear, proving that the beast was on the alert within.

“Now, Joe, come alongside of me with your shotgun!” called out old Runnell. “We’ll make sure of him if he does come out.”

Both stood almost facing the window and about twenty feet from it. Then Fred and Harry let down the branch in the snow, so that the thick smoke could drift directly into the hole that had been cut.

In less than half a minute they could hear the bear moving around the inside of the lodge. They heard the beast give a snort, followed by a sneeze.

“He’s catching it,” whispered Joe, with his gun raised. “I don’t think he’ll stand it much longer.”

An instant after there came a savage growl, and then straight through the window shot the black bear, landing at the very feet of those standing to receive it. Crack! went the rifle, and bang! came from the shotgun, and the beast tumbled over and began to claw at the air and the snow, sending the chunks of the latter flying in all directions.

“Hurrah, we’ve got him!” ejaculated Joe, and discharged the second barrel of his gun close to the bear’s head. This finished the beast, and it soon stretched out and lay still.

“What a big fellow,” was Harry’s comment, as he came forward to inspect the game. “Joe, you can be glad he didn’t get his paws around you. He might have hugged you to death.”

“I am thankful,” was the answer. “But, say, won’t we have fine bear steaks now! We’ll have all the meat we want, and some to take home in the bargain.”

“Not to say anything about the skin,” put in Fred.

“Oh, that is to go to Runnell,” said Joe, quickly. “I’m sure he deserves it,” and the others said the same.

All were so interested in looking the big prize over that the burning tree branch was, for the time being, forgotten. All had also forgotten the fire in the lodge and the burning sticks Joe had dropped on the floor. The wreck of the table was near the sticks, and in a few minutes Snow Lodge was blazing inside and out.

“Hello, the place is on fire!” shouted Harry, who was the first to notice the condition of affairs.

“So it is!” added old Runnell. He ran to the door and threw it open. “Quick, boys, or the lodge will be burnt to the ground!”

With the door and the window open, the fire obtained a good draught, and of a sudden a blaze shot up, inside and out, that quickly mounted to the roof.

“This is worse than I supposed,” said old Runnell, and ran in to stamp the blaze out. But the smoke was blinding and he soon had to retreat. Then Joe went in, but when some sparks touched him on the cheek he fell back also.

“The lodge is doomed!” groaned Fred. “And everything inside will be burnt up!”

“My camera films!” cried Harry. “They are on the shelf! I don’t want to lose them,” and before anybody could stop him he had leaped into the burning structure.

“Harry! Harry! come out of there!” yelled Joe. But the younger brother paid no attention to the warning. On the shelf were all the pictures he had taken since coming on the outing, and he thought more of these than he did of the traps and stores.

The flames were now curling all over the roof of the lodge, and with no water at hand it was easy to see that the structure could not be saved. Joel Runnell ran in, and in the smoke felt around for Harry and found him clinging to the shelf, with the rolls of films clutched tightly in one hand.

“Come out,” he said, in a choking voice. “Come,” and he led the half-suffocated boy, into the open air. The water was running from Harry’s eyes, and it was fully a minute before he could get his breath to talk.

Finding they could do nothing to stop the fire, they set to work to save what stores they could. This was not an easy task, and they recovered little more than a couple of blankets, a tin can of coffee, a bag of salt and a large box of matches. One of the blankets was burnt along the edge.

Once having gained headway, the flames roared and crackled merrily, lighting up the clearing and the forest for a goodly distance around. As the fire increased, they dragged their sleds, the bear and other game, and the saved stores to a safe distance.

“Do you think it will set fire to the trees?” questioned Fred.

“No, there isn’t wind enough for that,” answered Joel Runnell.

“I guess I am responsible for that fire,” came from Joe. “I remember now that I dropped those burning sticks on the floor when I opened the door.”

“And we left the branch at the hole,” said Harry. “Hiram Skeetles will make us pay for the damage done, I suppose.”

“The lodge wasn’t worth much,” put in Fred. “Not over twenty or thirty dollars at the most. The back end was almost ready to fall down.”

“Well, if the courts decide that this island and the lodge belong to Skeetles we’ll pay for the building,” said Joe. “But you can be sure I won’t pay him any fancy price.”