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

Long Gun, in his broken English, explained that the horses which they had were often used by hunters, who thought nothing of sliding down a favorable place in the side of the mountain on the backs of their steeds. Jack’s and Nat’s animals had probably thought that their riders desired to come down that way, as it was the shortest route to camp and supper.

“Well, you certainly had us worried,” said Sam as the two wanderers were seated before the fire, eating a late meal. “We could hear your guns, but the echoes confused us. Long Gun said you’d be all right, but if you hadn’t come pretty soon Bony and I were going after you.”

“Say, what about our deer, that you shot, Jack?” asked Nat a little later. “Can’t we go get it?”

“Not to-night,” replied Jack. “I wouldn’t venture in among those peaks in the dark for ten deer. We’ll get it in the morning.”

“Hu! Mebby none left,” grunted the Indian.

“None left? What do you mean?”

“Plenty things eat um. Bears, rats, foxes, mebby.”

“Well, we’ll have to shoot another, that’s all,” said Jack. “But did you fellows have any luck?”

“Bony shot a jack-rabbit,” replied Sam, “but the rest of us didn’t get anything, though I fired at a big sheep.”

“Too far off,” explained Long Gun.

It was getting colder, and there was a promise of snow in the air, which, the Indian explained, would make it all the better for tracking game. The boys were glad to wrap themselves up well when they went to their beds, which consisted of heavy blankets spread over hemlock boughs, placed inside the tent on the ground. A big camp fire was kept going, with enough wood at hand, so that if any one awakened in the night and found it low the fuel could easily be thrown on.

The whole party, with Long Gun included, left after breakfast to bring in the deer Jack had shot. They found it without any trouble under Long Gun’s guidance, but the carcass had been so torn by other beasts that it was not fit for food.

“Rambunctious ram’s horns!” exclaimed Nat. “I was counting on some nice venison steaks, too.”

“Well, we’ll try again,” suggested Jack, and the whole party, on horseback, started off to hunt.

This time they did not go into the region of the bad lands, but to an easy slope of the mountain, well wooded, yet with rocky precipices here and there, with bare spots where, the Indian said, the big-horn sheep might be found.

On Long Gun’s advice the party separated, Jack, Nat and Budge going off to one side, and the others in a different direction. As there was a plain trail back to camp, and plenty of landmarks, there was no danger of any one getting lost.

Jack, Nat and Budge rode along, watching for signs of game, but all they saw were numbers of jack-rabbits.

“ShallIshoot’em?” asked Budge, as a particularly large one dashed by.

“If you want to,” replied Jack. “But I’m going to wait for bigger game. A buck or a ram for mine, eh, Nat?”

“That’s what.”

But the bucks and the rams did not seem to be on view that day, and after riding about all the morning the three boys stopped to rest near a spring and eat their lunch.

“I tell you what we’ll do,” suggested Jack as they prepared to resume their journey. “Let’s leave the horses here and work up that mountain,” and he pointed to the steep sides of a towering peak, at the foot of which they had halted.

“I’m with you,” agreed Nat.

“’Stoomuchwork,” announced Budge as he turned over on his back and began chewing some fresh gum. “I’ll stay here until you come back.”

They tried to get him to come with them, but he would not, so Jack and Nat started off alone. They had not gone more than a mile before Jack, who was slightly in advance, came to a sudden halt and motioned to Nat to make no noise.

“There he is,” whispered Jack, when Nat had joined him, and he pointed to a distant boulder that jutted out from the side of the mountain, a short distance away.

Nat looked, and saw something that made the blood leap in his veins. It was a big mountain ram, with a massive pair of horns – a fine specimen. The animal’s back was toward them, and it seemed to be viewing the valley spread out below it.

“You shoot first, and if you miss I’ll take him,” directed Jack in a whisper, wishing to give his chum the first chance.

Fixing his eyes on the ram, Nat brought forward his gun, cocked it, and aimed. Then for some unaccountable reason his hand began to tremble. It was his first shot at big game, and he was nervous.

“I – I can’t shoot,” he whispered, lowering his rifle.

“Nonsense! You’ve got to,” said Jack sternly, and this brought Nat to himself. Once more he raised his weapon. Jack was in readiness with his in case his chum should miss.

There was a moment of breathless suspense, and then Nat fired. Instantly the ram wheeled about and stood facing the spot where the two lads were. He must have seen them, for the floating cloud of smoke drew his gaze.

“I’ve missed! You fire!” exclaimed Nat.

And, indeed, he had missed the ram cleanly. Jack threw his gun to his shoulder, and instantly it cracked out.

“You hit him! I saw him jump!” cried Nat excitedly. “Come on! We’ll get him!”

Without a word Jack pumped another cartridge into the chamber, and fired again. But just as he did so the ram gave a leap and disappeared from the rock.

“We’ve got him! We’ve got him!” yelled Nat excitedly. “Come on!”

“No use,” said Jack quietly, placing a restraining hand on Nat’s arm.

“No use? Why?”

Jack pointed to a bare spot below the rock and some distance to the right. Along it the ram was running at full speed.

“Guess I only grazed him,” he said. “He isn’t hurt much when he can run like that.”

“Side-splitting sandpaper!” exclaimed Nat. “That’s tough luck. Why did I miss?”

“That’s nothing. I missed him, too. We can’t hit everything we aim at, or it wouldn’t be any fun – especially for the animals.”

“Let’s trail him,” proposed Nat.

“No, it’s too late. We’d better get back to camp.”

They found Budge with the horses, and the gum-chewing lad did not appear to have moved, but three big dead jack-rabbits at his side showed that he had not been idle.

“Well, you had some luck,” observed Jack.

“’Stooeasy – killin’ them,” remarked Budge. “They are almost tame.”

“Well, they’ll make good eating,” observed Nat. “I hope the others did better than we did.”

And when they were back at camp, which Long Gun, Sam and Bony reached shortly after they did, they found that Sam had killed a fine deer, and Bony a small sheep, which gave them plenty of fresh meat.