Jack Ranger's Gun Club: or, From Schoolroom to Camp and Trail

“Why, you don’t seem to be very glad that school has closed, giving you an additional vacation,” remarked Jack.

“I’m not.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve got to go and live with my guardian. He hates me. He’ll be twitting me of how I robbed him, when I had no more to do with the loss of his money than – than you did. I was beginning to like it here, but now I’ve got to go back. It’s tough!”

“Say, how would you like to come with me?”

“Come with you? Where?”

“Hunting in the Shoshone Mountains.”

“Do you mean it?” asked Will eagerly, his eyes brightening. He sprang to his feet, all his sadness gone.

“Of course I mean it,” went on Jack. “Some of my chums are going to form a sort of gun club, and I’d like to include you in it. Will you come?”

“Will I come? Say, I – ”

Then the lad paused. The light faded from his eyes. He sank back into his chair.

“No – no,” he said slowly. “I’m much obliged, but I – I guess I can’t go.”

“Why not?”

Will hesitated.

“Well – er – you see – er – the fact is, I haven’t any money. My guardian pays all the bills, and, as I told you, he doesn’t give me any spending money. Not even enough for a postage stamp.”

“That’s tough,” said Jack, “but I guess you didn’t quite understand me. I didn’t ask you to spend any money.”

“How can I go camping and hunting, away off in Wyoming, without money?”

“You’ll go as my guest,” said Jack simply. “I’m inviting you to go with me. The other fellows are coming on their own hook, as members of the gun club, but I’d like to have you come just as my guest. Will you do that?”

“Will I?” Once more the lad’s eyes sparkled. “Of course I will,” he said, “only it doesn’t seem right to have you pay my way. If my uncle only knew of my plight he’d give me some money, I’m sure, but I can’t even write to him. It’s quite mysterious the way he hides himself. I can’t understand it.”

“Then you’ll come?”

“Yes – but I don’t like to feel that it is costing you money.”

“Don’t let that worry you,” said Jack quickly. “I’m pretty well off, and my dad has all the money he can use. I guess you didn’t hear about the gold mine Nat and I helped discover when we were out West looking for my father.”

“No, I never did.”

“Well, that will keep the wolf from howling around the door for a while. I’m real glad you’re coming, Bill. I hope you’ll enjoy it.”

“I know I will. I’m fond of hunting and camping.”

“All right. Now I’m going back to Denton. I s’pose you’re going home, too?”

“Well, it isn’t much of a home. I live in Hickville with my guardian.”

“Hickville, eh? That’s about a hundred miles from Denton. Well, I was going to say that I’ll write you a few days before we start, and you can come on to Denton.”

“All right. I’ll do it.”

“Then I’ll go and finish packing. I left Nat Anderson to do it, and he’s just as likely to put things upside down as right side up. I’ll see you at Denton, then.”

“Yes,” replied Will. But Jack did not see the new boy at Denton, and not until some time after their parting at the school; and when he did see him, it was under strange circumstances.

Good-bys were said among the pupils and teachers of Washington Hall, and Jack and his chums separated, he and Nat journeying to Denton, which they reached that night, much to the surprise of Mr. Ranger, Jack’s three aunts, and Nat’s folks.

Jack lost no time in beginning his preparations for the camping trip, his father consenting that the gun club might be formed. Our hero wrote many letters, arranged for transportation to the West, got into communication with a guide near Cody, Wyoming, and invited Budge to go along.

“Sure I’ll go,” said the gum-chewing lad as he placed into his mouth a fresh wad of the sticky substance. “When’ll it be?”

“In about two weeks,” said Jack. “There are quite a few things to do yet.”

In the meanwhile, Nat Anderson, Sam Chalmers and Bony Balmore had secured permission from their parents to go with Jack, and they were busy at their respective homes, making up their kits. Sam and Bony lived about a day’s journey from Denton.

“Now I’ll write to Bill, and invite him to come on,” said Jack one night, and then he waited for a reply from the lad with whom he had so recently become friends.

“Here’s Bill’s answer,” said Jack to Nat one afternoon a few days later, when they went down to the post-office, and Jack received a letter marked “Hickville.”

As Jack read it he uttered a low whistle.

“What’s the matter? Can’t he come?” asked Nat.

“No. This is from his rascally guardian. It’s to me. Bill’s run away.”

CHAPTER XIII

OFF ON THE TRIP

Nat stood still in the street and stared at Jack.

“What’s that you said?” he asked.

“Bill’s run away. Listen and I’ll read the letter to you. It says: ‘A few days ago my ward, William Williams, returned from Washington Hall, greatly to my regret. He explained the cause of his enforced vacation, and stated that you had asked him to go off on a hunting trip. Of course, I refused to let him go. In the first place I don’t believe in hunting, and for a lad of William’s age to go off to the West, where he may learn bad habits, is not the thing. Besides, I cannot trust him away from the authority of older persons.’”

“Wouldn’t that jolt you?” commented Jack as he looked up from the letter.

Nat nodded.

“Suffering snufflebugs!” he exclaimed. “That’s the limit – isn’t it, Jack?”

“Pretty near. Listen; there’s more to it: ‘When I told my ward that he could not go, he answered me very sharply that if his uncle was here he could get permission. That may be, but his uncle is not here. He begged to be allowed to go, but I was firm in my refusal. I do not believe in such nonsense as camping out, and I told William so.