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

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2017
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Jack did not know what to do. He and Will had to stand there and watch their chums rolling and slipping down the mountain-side, with the bear, in its death struggle, slowly gaining on them.

Suddenly the beast struck a large boulder, bounded up into the air, and came down nearly on top of the two lads. Jack’s heart almost stopped beating, and Will turned his head aside. Bear and boys seemed to be in one indistinguishable heap.

“They’ll be killed!” cried Will.

Jack started down the hill on the run. He had not taken a dozen steps, his gaze all the while fixed on that heap, which had now reached a little ledge, where it came to a stop, when he saw Sam and Nat slowly extricate themselves.

“They’re alive, anyway,” he murmured.

He heard Will following after him, but did not look back. He wanted to see what the bear would do. Sam and Nat appeared bewildered, but Jack noticed that they moved away from bruin. The brute was quiet.

“I wonder if I killed him?” thought Jack. Then he called out: “Is he dead?”

“As a door-nail,” replied Sam.

“Are you hurt?” sung out Will.

“Only bruised some,” answered Sam, rubbing several places on his body.

By this time Jack had reached his chums. Their clothing was disheveled, and their hands and faces were covered with dirt, but the bear had not harmed them.

“I thought it was all up with you,” said Jack with relief in his voice.

“So did I,” admitted Nat. “But I guess that bear was dead when he started to roll. It was when it hit us, anyway, for it never made a move. It rolled right on top of us, and Sam yelled – ”

“So did you,” spoke Sam quickly. “You were just as frightened as I was.”

“I guess that’s right,” admitted Nat. “But you got your bear, all right, Jack.”

They looked at the dead animal. It was a large grizzly.

“Another trophy for the gun club,” remarked Sam. “Say, we’re doing all right for amateurs. Jack’s new organization is a success.”

“It’s all to the bear steaks!” exclaimed Nat with a grin, as he gently caressed his elbow, where the skin was rubbed off.

“How are we going to get this back to camp?” asked Will.

“Oh, I guess we can pile it on the horses,” said Nat.

“Not until it’s cut up,” remarked Jack. “Did you ever try to lift a dead bear?”

None of them had, and when they tried to raise the lifeless bruin they found it beyond their strength. They had keen hunting knives with them, however, and soon had the bear skinned and the choicest portions cut off. Jack took the skin, intending to have a rug made of it. Then the horses were brought up, and the meat tied on the backs of the saddles. Satisfied with their day’s hunt thus far, the boys headed for camp, Will getting a shot at a fine ram on the way back, but missing it, much to his regret.

“Better luck next time,” consoled Jack.

Long Gun and Budge had a fine supper ready for the young hunters, and never was a meal better enjoyed. Then, as it grew dark, they all sat about the camp fire, listening to the story of killing the bear.

“Oh, this is the kind of life to lead,” said Nat with a sigh. “It’s simply perfect.”

“And to think that we’ll soon have to go back to Washington Hall,” put in Bony.

“I know where Jack would rather be than here,” said Sam with a grin barely visible in the flickering light of the camp fire.

“Where?” asked Nat.

“Over at Pryor’s Gap, where a certain girl with brown eyes – ”

Plunk!

A wad of dried leaves took Sam squarely in the face.

“You dry up!” commanded Jack as he looked around for another missile.

“Oh, of course; but I thought you’d like to be reminded of her,” went on Sam.

“I guess he can think of her without you reminding him,” added Nat.

“I’m going to turn in,” announced Jack suddenly, and the laughs of his chums did not seem to disconcert him. They all retired a few minutes later and slept soundly.

“Well, what’s the program to-day?” asked Sam as they stepped from the tent the next morning into the cold, crisp air. “Hello,” he added, “it’s been snowing again.”

“Plenty good for track sheep,” announced Long Gun.

“Oh, we don’t need any fresh meat. What’s the use of going hunting again?” asked Jack.

“What will we do, then – go fishing?” demanded Nat.

“I have an idea that it would be fun to take a trip back over the mountain,” went on Jack. “We’ve never been in that direction.”

“It’s quite a climb,” said Bony as he looked up the immense hill, at the foot of which they were camped.

“I know it, but Long Gun says there’s a good trail, and we can go on our horses and take it easy. What do you say?”

“I say let’s go,” put in Will. “I heard there was some sort of a camp over there, and maybe I could get a trace of my uncle.”

“Then we’ll go,” decided Jack. “What sort of a camp is it?”

“I don’t know exactly. I met a man during my wanderings who told me he had been delivering supplies at a camp over on the eastern slope of Rattlesnake Mountain. This is Rattlesnake Mountain, isn’t it?”

“That’s the name it goes by,” said Jack. “But what sort of supplies did he take?”

“That’s the queer part of it. He couldn’t tell. They were in boxes, and he was never allowed to go very close to the camp. He always had to halt quite a way off, leave his stuff and drive away.”

“That’s queer,” commented Jack. “I wonder if that can have anything to do with – ”

Then he stopped suddenly, without finishing his sentence.

“Well, with what?” asked Bony.
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