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

“What do you want?” asked Jack.

“Where’smygum?” was what Budge wanted to know, and his companions laughed.

“I guess you’re all right when you can chew gum,” spoke Jack. “But what made you go over by that sulphur spring?”

“I was shooting jack-rabbits,” explained Budge, “and I thought that would be a good place. I didn’t like the smell, but pretty soon I fell asleep, and then – ”

“Yes, and then if Jack and Nat hadn’t come along you’d be sleeping yet,” added Sam.

“’Sright,” admitted Budge.

They helped him back to camp, and he was soon feeling better, but he registered a firm resolve not to go too near the deadly gas spring again. Hunting was over for the day, and they were all soon gathered about the camp fire, telling their various experiences.

It was the middle of the night when Jack, who was rather restless, was awakened suddenly. At first he thought some one had called him, but as he raised up and looked over at his sleeping companions he realized that none of them were awake.

“I wonder what that noise was?” he asked himself.

Just then he heard, in the air above the tent, that same sighing, throbbing sound that had so startled them on a previous occasion. It was like the passage of some immense body through the air.

Jack, who was partly dressed, hurried to the flap of the tent. He peered upward into the blackness of the night.

Was it fancy, or did he see some great, mysterious shape moving over the camp? He could not tell, but the throbbing, swishing noise became fainter.

“I wonder what that is?” thought Jack as he went back to bed. In the morning he did not tell his chums nor Long Gun of the affair, fearing to frighten them.

They prepared for a big hunt the next day. There was a light fall of snow, which the Indian guide said would serve to enable them to track the game. They were out early in the morning on their horses, and were gone all day, keeping together. Jack shot a big buck, and Bony, to his great delight, brought down a fine mountain sheep, while the others had to be content with jack-rabbits.

Budge had entirely recovered from the effects of the deadly gas, but he said he felt too nervous to do any shooting, so he and Long Gun, who, despite his name, was a poor shot, simply trailed along in the rear.

“I’d like to get another pair of big horns for my room,” said Jack toward the close of the day. “What do you think, Long Gun, have we time to go a little farther and try for a big ram?”

“Hu! Mebby,” answered the Indian. “Plenty sheep been here,” and he pointed to where the animals had scraped away the snow to get at the grass and shrubs beneath.

Jack and Nat started off, while the others made a temporary camp and warmed some tea. They were to stay there until Jack and Nat returned, which the lads promised to do within an hour if they saw no signs of sheep.

They tramped on, having left their horses in the temporary camp, Jack eagerly watching for a sign of a big pair of horns.

“I guess I’m not going to find them this time,” he said as he mounted a pinnacle of rock and looked about him. “It looks like a good place, too,” he added.

“Hark, something’s coming,” said Nat in a whisper.

There was a crackling in the bushes to Jack’s right. He turned in that direction, his rifle in readiness. Something was moving there. Was it a mountain sheep?

He raised his gun. A dark object could be seen to be moving behind the screen of bushes, and the snow on them was shaken off.

Suddenly there stepped into view, not a mountain sheep, but the figure of a lad, all in tatters.

For an instant Jack and Nat stared at the youth. He had appeared so unexpectedly that they did not know what to say. On his part, the lad stood there silent, as if he did not know what to do.

Then Jack threw down his rifle and sprang forward, at the same time crying out:

“Bill! It’s Bill Williams! Well, how in the world did you ever get here?”

CHAPTER XXIII

ANOTHER NIGHT SCARE

Will Williams, the strange, new boy, whom Jack had last seen at Washington Hall, now so far away, rushed forward.

“Jack Ranger!” he gasped, as if he could not believe it.

“That’s who I am,” responded our hero. “But, Bill, what has happened? You look as if you were suffering.”

“I am suffering,” was the answer. “I’m almost starved!”

“Starved!” exclaimed Nat. “Wobble-sided watermelons! And our camp just filled with good things! Come on, Bill. We’ll feed you up.”

The two chums clasped Will successively by the hand. Then Jack asked:

“How did you get away out here? The last I heard of you was when I received a letter and a telegram from your guardian, asking me to send you home if I saw you.”

“You – you’re not going to – are you?” faltered Will.

“Am I?” Jack clasped his arm about the shrinking form of the unfortunate lad. “Well, I guess not! I’d like to have that guardian of yours here, for about five minutes!”

“Petrified pancakes! So would I!” exclaimed Nat. “I’d send him over where that bad-smelling spring is to spend the night. But, Bill, you haven’t told us how you got here.”

“I hardly know myself,” was the answer. “I did run away, just as Mr. Gabel told you, Jack. I couldn’t stand his mean ways any longer. He refused to let me go camping with you, and said I would have to go to work, while school was closed for repairs, to make up the money he said I stole. I decided I would come out West and try to find my uncle. He’s out here somewhere, but where I haven’t been able to learn. I had a few dollars saved up, that I had earned, and I came as far as they would bring me. Then I worked my way on from Chicago by jumping freights and by doing odd jobs whenever I got the chance. I heard, in a roundabout way, that my uncle was either in the southern part of Montana, or the northern part of Wyoming, and so I came on. I’ve been traveling around now for two weeks, trying to find him, and I’ve been living like a tramp, but I can’t seem to locate him. I met some men who said they knew him, but they acted so mysterious that I could get no information from them. They didn’t seem to want to tell me where he was. So I decided to keep on until I found him. I’ve been tramping all day, and when I heard you talking I thought maybe you were a party of hunters who would help me.”

“And so we will,” burst out Jack. “Come along to camp with us, Bill, and we’ll fix you up. It’s a shame, the way your guardian treats you. And your uncle can’t be much better.”

“Oh, he used to be kind to me,” said the unfortunate lad, “but I don’t believe he knows how things have gone with me. If I could find him I think he would take care of me.”

“Well, maybe we can help find him for you,” said Nat.

Little time was lost in getting back to the temporary camp, and there Will, who was weak and faint from hunger, was given a light meal. Then the whole party went on to the main camp, Will riding behind Jack, for the latter’s horse would carry double.

“My, but you certainly are doing this up in style,” remarked the ragged lad as he saw the fine tents and noted how comfortably Jack and his chums lived, in spite of the fact that they were far from civilization. His arrival created quite a sensation.

“Oh, when Jack Ranger does a thing, it’s done good and proper,” said Bony. “It’s the first outing out of the gun club, and he wants to make a record, I guess.”

“I want you all to have a good time, that’s all I want,” was Jack’s reply.

Some better clothes were found for Will, and after a good meal some of the hopelessness faded from his face. He told of his wanderings in the mountains, and how he had worked his way from camp to camp, and from stage station to stage station.

“But you’re done tramping around now,” said Jack.

“Have you – have you got room for me here?” faltered Will.