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

“Do you mean that?” cried Jack, riding up.

“Sure. You can see it’s gone.”

The boys dismounted and went closer to the tree. There was no doubt but that the choice portions of the ram were gone. And at the foot of the tree the dirt was trampled down as if whatever it was that had stolen the meat had been put to considerable trouble to get it.

“It was a bear that took it!” cried Sam.

“How do you know?” asked Jack.

“Look where he climbed the tree. The bark’s torn off with his claws, and you can see the marks of his paws in the soft dirt.”

“That’s right,” agreed Nat. “Lopsided lollypops! but it must have been a big one, too! Look where the first marks of his claws begin,” and he pointed to abrasions in the bark a good distance above the ground.

“Do bears eat meat?” asked Bony, cracking all his finger knuckles excitedly.

“Sometimes, I believe,” answered Jack. “Anyway, if the bear that stole my ram didn’t get it for himself he must have pulled it down for some friends of his.”

“What do you mean?” asked Nat.

“Here are the marks of footsteps,” went on Jack, “and they aren’t ours, either. Look, whoever made these had heavy boots with hobnails in them, made in the shape of an arrow.”

He pointed to the ground. There, in addition to the paw-marks left by the bear, were footprints, clearly to be seen, and it needed but a glance to show that they had not been made by any of the boys or Long Gun.

“Some one – some men, that is – have been here since Nat and I were here yesterday,” went on Jack. “Either they or the bear took the ram.”

“Maybe they were the men we heard yelling last night,” suggested Nat.

“Yes, and maybe they have a trained bear, that goes around stealing meat for them,” added Sam with a laugh.

“Don’t get such crazy ideas,” objected Nat.

“Well, that might happen,” went on Sam. “Almost anything is likely to happen in this queer country. I wonder what we’d better do about it?”

“I know what I’m going to do,” said Jack.

“What?”

“I’m going to trail that bear. He’s left plenty of marks, and maybe I can get a shot at him. I owe him something for taking my meat, and he’ll make a good substitute.”

“That’s the way to talk,” cried Bony. “I’m with you, Jack.”

The marks of the bear’s paws were plainly visible for some distance, leading off to the right, and up the sloping side of a mountain. As for the footprints of the man or men, they were soon lost to sight. But the boys decided to trail the bear. They lost the marks after about a mile, but arguing that the beast would make nearly a straight line for his den, after he had the meat, the young hunters laid their course as well as they could by compass and kept on.

They had to travel slowly, because the road was not very good for the horses, and at noon they had not come up to bruin. Eating a light lunch, they kept on, and it was mid-afternoon when Jack, who was ahead, noticed that his horse suddenly stopped and began to shiver.

“Fellows,” he cried, “we’re near the bear. That’s what ails the horse.”

The other steeds began to exhibit signs of terror, so it was decided to dismount and lead them back a short distance.

“I’ll stay with the horses,” volunteered Bony. “I – er – I don’t exactly feel up to hunting bears to-day.”

“You’re not afraid, are you?” asked Sam.

“No, not exactly. You might call it – out of practice,” and Bony began cracking his knuckles.

They tried to persuade him to go with them, but he would not, so Jack, Will, Nat and Sam went on. It did not take much searching to discover a trail leading farther up the side of the mountain, and following this a little way they smelled the unmistakable odor of wild animals.

“His cave’s near here,” whispered Jack.

They came in sight of it a moment later, and then there was no doubt as to who had stolen part of the ram. For in front of a black opening in the side of the big hill was a portion of the carcass.

“I wonder if he’s in there?” said Jack.

“Maybe you’ll wish he wasn’t,” commented Sam.

“I will not,” was Jack’s bold reply. “I’m going to get a shot at him now.”

“How are you going to get him out?”

“I’ll show you.”

Jack quickly made a torch of some dry bark, and lighting it, tossed it into the mouth of the cave. Then he ran quickly back, and with his chums stood waiting with ready rifle.

“We’d better separate a bit,” said Nat. “If he comes out with a rush, and you miss him, Jack, we can take a crack at him.”

This was voted good advice, and Sam, Will and Nat moved down the slope a short distance, leaving Jack nearer the cave.

“I guess he isn’t going to come out,” called Jack to his chums. “He’s asleep, maybe. I’ll try to wake him up.”

He caught up a large stone, and tossed it into the cave. Hardly had he done so than there sounded a series of angry growls, and with a loud “woof!” bruin appeared at the mouth of the cavern, his little eyes glistening with wrath, and the fur on his back raised in a long ridge.

“Shoot him, Jack!” cried Nat.

But Jack did not need this advice. Dropping on one knee he took quick aim and pulled the trigger. At the sound of the shot bruin lurched forward, and without the loss of a second Jack pumped in another cartridge and let him have it right in the head.

Then the big, tawny brute, with a scream, launched himself forward, and doubling up into a ball, began to roll down the mountain-side, straight toward where Sam and Nat stood.

“Look out!” cried Jack, for he saw that the bear was in his death struggle, and might attack his chums.

Sam and Nat needed no warning, but as they turned to get out of the way of the infuriated creature, Nat’s foot slipped. He fell, and, to save himself, he clutched at Sam. They both went down in a heap, rolling over and over, but a few feet in front of the bear, that came bounding after them, clawing up dirt, stones and little shrubs as it tried to stay its progress.

CHAPTER XXV

SOME PECULIAR MARKS

“Shoot! Shoot!” cried Will Williams, who had remained to one side. “Shoot him again, Jack!”

“I can’t! I may hit Sam or Nat!”