The Gun Club Boys of Lakeport

“Unless I am greatly mistaken, lad, it was a wolverene.”

“A wolverene!” cried several in chorus.

“Oh, do you think it was really a wolverene?” came from Link. “Why, they are very fierce, aren’t they?”

“About as fierce a beast as you can bring down in these parts, Link, and just about as hard to track, too.”

“I’ve never seen a live wolverene,” came from Harry. “I saw a dead one once at my father’s store – Jerry Daley brought it down. It was about as long as a wolf, but a good deal heavier, and was black, with a lightish streak running around each side toward the tail. It had a sort of cat head, with the ears laid low, and an awful savage looking mouth.”

“Yes, and Jerry Daley was almost killed by the beast, too,” put in Joe. “It ripped up his arm and gave him a fearful scratch on one knee. Jerry put two bullets into it and then cut its throat with his hunting knife.”

“I’ve heard a lot of stories about wolverenes,” said Fred. “A good many hunters fight shy of them.”

“And the wolverenes fight shy of the hunters,” put in old Runnell. “Can’t blame ’em either.”

“Maybe we had better not go after this beast,” put in Teddy. “I don’t want to be chewed up.”

“Oh, yes, let us go after him,” came from Bart. “I’m not afraid. Remember, he stole our deer meat.”

“Better let that meat go,” went on Teddy.

“Oh, I don’t want to eat the meat after a wolverene has chewed on it,” added Bart. “But we ought to teach the beast a lesson.”

“Wolverenes are great for stealing hunters’ meat,” said Joel Runnell. “And not only that, they soon learn how to get at rabbits and other animals that have been trapped. I once heard tell of how a hunter went out to look at his traps and he discovered a wolverene watching ’em. He kept out of sight, and pretty soon a rabbit got into one of the traps. As soon as the rabbit was a prisoner, Mr. Wolverene came out of hiding and pulled the rabbit out of the trap, and just then the hunter killed the beast.”

The matter was talked over, and it was decided that two of the boys should go with old Runnell after the wolverene. Lots were cast, and the choice fell upon Joe and Bart.

“Bart, that ought to suit you,” said Fred.

“And it does,” was the quick answer.

“It suits me, too,” came from Joe. “Sorry you can’t go, Harry,” he added to his brother.

“Well, such is luck,” was the reply. “Perhaps next time I’ll go and you’ll have to stay home.”

A hasty lunch was had, and in less than half an hour old Runnell, Bart, and Joe were on the way.

The track of the wolverene was plainly to be seen, and they followed it with ease over the rocks where the wind had blown a good deal of the snow away.

“Are your guns ready for use?” questioned old Runnell. “It may be that we may fall in with some other kind of game besides the wolverene.”

The weapons were in proper condition and both were held in such a fashion that they could do no harm as the party traveled along. They had now to enter the woods, with thick pines on one side and a variety of small hemlocks and scrub bushes on the other. They were going uphill, and walking at every step became more difficult.

“Here are the marks very plainly,” said Joe. “The wolverene got tired of carrying the meat and dragged it.”

“Make no more noise,” said Joel Runnell. “We may be closer to the beast nor you think.”

After that they proceeded in utter silence. The trail led around a number of pointed rocks and then among the pines.

Suddenly Joel Runnell came to a halt and motioned for the others to do likewise. Looking ahead, Joe and Bart saw a spot where the snow was much disturbed, and there lay the best part of the deer meat which had been stolen.

Crouching low, Joel Runnell began to look in among the pine trees, for he felt certain that the beast he was after could not be far away. Evidently the wolverene had been disturbed while devouring a portion of the game and had leaped out of sight among the pine branches.

The wolverene is well called the glutton, for it loves to gorge itself upon any meat which it can obtain. When it has such meat in its possession to give it up is almost out of the question, and it becomes maddened to the last degree.

All this Joel Runnell knew, and he also knew that if he advanced to where the meat was lying more than likely the wolverene would leap upon him.

But it was not the old hunter who first caught sight of the beast. Happening to glance over his shoulder Bart saw a sight which filled him with sudden terror. The wolverene was there, in a high branch, ready to leap down upon his head!

“Oh!” yelled the boy, and then, more by instinct than reason, he swung his gun around and fired. The firearm held a fair charge of shot, and this took the wolverene partly in the breast and left foreleg. There was a fierce snarl, and down came the powerful creature at Bart’s very feet.

As the wolverene landed both Joe and old Runnell wheeled around. The latter would have fired, but Joe was in his way.

“Look out, boys!” yelled the old hunter. “Back for your lives!”

He spoke none too soon, for the wolverene was now ready for a second leap. Bart sprang back, and the beast caught sight of Joe, who was trying to get a shot.

Bang! went Joe’s weapon, but the wolverene leaped as he fired, and all that was hit of the creature was the bushy tail, which was knocked completely to pieces at such close range.

Dazed and bewildered, the wolverene now backed to the nearest tree, and leaped out of sight among the low-hanging branches. The pain of its wounds made it snarl and growl viciously, and had it been able to reach one or another of the hunters it might have done great damage.

“Look out,” cried Bart. “Guess he’s trying to come up behind us.”

“I’ve got my eye on him now,” answered Joel Runnell. “Both of you stay where you are, and reload.”

Neither had thought of reloading, but now they did so with all possible speed. In the meanwhile Joel Runnell was moving down among the pines. They listened and heard the wolverene make a leap from one branch to another, then all became suddenly silent.

“Oh, I hope Runnell don’t get hurt,” muttered Bart.

There followed a short spell of silence, and then the firearm of the old hunter rang out. The report was followed by a cat-like screech, loud and of short duration. Then from one limb to another tumbled the wolverene, striking the ground with a whirl and sending the snow flying in all directions. But the shot was a fatal one, and in a few minutes the savage beast gave a shudder, stiffened out, and lay still.

“Is he – he dead?” asked Bart, almost in a whisper.

“Dead as a door nail, boys,” answered Joel Runnell. “He was a fighter right enough, wasn’t he?”

“I never want to go after another wolverene,” declared Joe.

“You are right; one is enough,” returned Bart. For once his face was strangely white.

“What shall we do with the animal?” went on Joe.

“May as well keep the hide,” answered the old hunter. “That will pay us back for our deer meat. You can make a mat of it when you get home.”

“I believe now some of the stories I have heard about wolverenes,” declared Bart. “Why, this creature is about as bad to meet as a bear.”

“Worse than some bears.”

“Do you boys know what the wolverene is sometimes called?” asked the old hunter.