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

“I’d rather you would.”

“Go on,” urged Jack in a whisper. “Wait, though, we’ll move forward a bit, and you work off to the left. You’ll get a better shot then. The wind’s just right.”

They went forward a few feet cautiously, until they stood just on the edge of the clearing. Then Will, stepping a few paces to the left, raised his rifle. No sooner had he done so than, to his surprise and regret, his arms began to shake violently. He had a severe touch of “buck fever.”

“I – I can’t do it. I’m too nervous,” he said in a whisper to Jack.

“Nonsense. Wait a minute and aim again. You’ll be all right in a second. Take a long breath and count five.”

Will did as directed, but it was no use. The muzzle of his rifle wobbled more than ever when he tried to aim.

“I – I can’t,” he whispered again. “You shoot, Jack.”

Then, realizing that Will was too nervous to do it, and not wanting to see the buck escape, as they needed fresh meat in camp, Jack took aim and pulled the trigger.

At the instant the report rang out, the buck raised his head, wheeled around, and catching sight of Jack standing on the edge of the clearing, came at him almost as fast as an express train. He had been only slightly wounded, and, full of rage, he had only one desire – to annihilate the person responsible for the stinging pain he felt.

Jack saw him coming, and threw down the lever of his rifle to pump another cartridge into the chamber. But, to his horror, the lever refused to work. It had become jammed in some way, and the exploded shell could not be ejected. He pulled and tugged at it, the buck coming nearer by leaps and bounds.

“Jump – jump!” Jack heard Will cry, and realizing that he could not get in another shot, he leaped to one side, hoping to get out of the way of the infuriated animal.

But his foot caught in the entangled branch of a bush, and he fell backward, full length, right in the path of the advancing buck, that was snorting with rage.

Jack tried to roll over, but the bush held him fast. He felt that it was all up with him, and he closed his eyes, expecting the next instant to feel the buck leap on him, to pierce him with its keen hoofs.

Jack could hear the thundering approach of the big creature, and he could feel the tremor of the ground as the brute came nearer. He fancied he could see the big bulk in the air over him.

Then there sounded a sharp crack, followed by a thud, and the black shape seemed to pass to one side. There was a shock as a big body hit the ground, a great crashing among the bushes, and Jack opened his eyes to see the buck lying dead a few feet away from him.

Then he saw something else. It was Will, running toward him, a smoking rifle in his hands.

“Are you – are you all right?” asked Will, his voice trembling.

“Yes,” said Jack, hardly able to speak, because of the reaction of the shock through which he had just passed. “I’m all right. Did you shoot the buck?”

“I – I guess so,” replied Will with a nervous laugh. “I aimed my rifle at him and pulled the trigger, anyhow.”

Jack went over to the big body, that had not ceased quivering.

“Right through the heart,” he said, as he saw where the bullet had gone in. “Bill, you saved my life!”

CHAPTER XXIX

THE BLIZZARD

Jack extended his hand, and clasped that of Will’s in a firm grip.

“This would have ended my hunting days if you hadn’t fired,” he said.

“Maybe he would have leaped over you,” said Will. “He was coming very fast.”

“I saw he was. He’d have jumped right on me, too, and that would have been the finish of yours truly. My, but that was a crack shot of yours.”

“I didn’t seem to take any aim. As soon as I saw him coming for you, I seemed to get steady all at once, and I didn’t tremble a bit.”

“Lucky for me you didn’t. My rifle went back on me just at the wrong minute.”

“What’s the matter with it?”

“I don’t know. I must take a look. It’s risky to be hunting with such a rifle.”

Jack looked for the cause of the trouble, and found that in taking the gun apart to clean it he had not screwed in far enough a certain bolt, which projected and prevented the breech mechanism from working. The trouble was soon remedied, and the rifle was ready for use again.

“Well, you can shoot the next buck,” remarked Will as the two looked at the carcass of the big animal.

“Not to-day. I’d shake worse than you did if I tried to aim. We’ll do no more hunting to-day. We’ll go back and get Nat, and take this to camp. There’s enough for a week.”

It was with no little difficulty that the three boys loaded the best parts of the buck on their horses and started back to camp. They found that Sam and Bony had arrived ahead of them, Sam having killed a fine ram.

“Well, I know what I’m going to do to-day,” remarked Jack the next morning.

“What?” inquired Nat.

“I’m going to have another try at that mystery.”

“Do you think it’ll be safe?”

“I don’t see why. I’m going to try to get to that camp from another trail, and if they see me the worst they can do will be to order me away again.”

“I’m with you,” declared Nat, and the others agreed to accompany the senior member of the gun club.

They started directly after breakfast, Jack, Nat, Sam, Bony and Will. Jack, making inquiries of Long Gun, learned of another trail that could be taken. They rode along this for several miles, and then proceeded cautiously, as they judged they were near where the hostile men had their camp.

Suddenly Nat, who was riding along beside Jack, stopped his horse and began sniffing the air.

“Smell anything?” he asked his chum.

Jack took several long breaths. Then he nodded.

“Gasolene, eh?” questioned Nat. “Cæsar’s pancakes! but I believe we’re on the track of those same bogus certificate printers again!”

“It can’t be,” declared Jack.

“But smell the gasolene.”

“I know it, but it might be from an automobile.”

“An automobile out here? Nonsense! Listen, you can hear the pounding of the engine.”