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

Certainly there was an odd throbbing noise, but just as Jack was beginning to locate it again the sound ceased.

“Never mind, fellows,” he said. “We’ll follow the smell of the gasolene. I don’t believe it’s the same gang that we were on the trail of before, but we’ll soon find out. Keep together, now.”

They went on for perhaps half a mile farther, when there was a sudden motion among the bushes on the trail ahead of them, and a man’s voice called out:

“Halt!”

It was one of the three men who had, a few days previous, warned Jack and Nat away.

“Where are you going?” the man demanded.

“We were looking for your camp,” said Jack boldly.

“Our camp?”

The man seemed much surprised.

“Yes. We wanted to see what sort of a place you had. We smelled the gasolene, and heard the engine, and – ”

“Now look here!” exclaimed the man angrily. “You’ve been told once to keep away from here, and this is the second time. The next time you won’t hear us tell you. We’ll shoot without warning. And we won’t shoot you, either, for we think you’re here more out of curiosity than anything else, but we’ll shoot your horses, and you know what it means to be without a horse out here. So if you know what’s good for you, keep away.”

“Yes,” added another voice. “You’d better keep away from here, Jack Ranger, if you don’t want to get into trouble.”

“Oh, it’s you, is it, Jerry Chowden?” spoke our hero. “I wonder if your new friends know as much about you as we do?”

“Never you mind!” exclaimed Jerry quickly. “You mind your own business, and let me alone.”

“That’s what I’ve often wished you to do for me,” spoke Jack. “Do you know that there is a warrant out for your arrest if you ever come back in the neighborhood of Denton?”

Jerry gave a frightened look over his shoulder. The man who had halted the lads had stepped back into the bushes.

“You clear out of here, Jack Ranger. And you, too, Nat Anderson and the rest of the bunch!” snapped Jerry, and then he drew from his pocket a revolver.

“Look out, Jerry, that might go off,” remarked Jack with a laugh.

“Don’t you make fun of me!” ordered the bully. “I’m working here, and I’ve got authority to order you away.”

“That’s right, Jerry, tell ’em to vamoose,” added the man who had first spoken, as he again came into view. “We don’t want any spies around here.”

Another man joined the first, and the two looked angrily at the intruders. They were armed with shotguns.

“What do you want?” asked the second man.

“Oh,” said Nat lightly, “we just came to call on an acquaintance of ours – Jerry Chowden. The police back East would like to see him, and we’ve just told him.”

“That’s not so!” cried Jerry angrily.

“You’re afraid to go back,” added Jack.

“I am not! You mind your own business and clear out!”

“Yes, move on,” ordered the first man, but Jack noted that he looked closely at Jerry, as if to determine the effect of the charges made against the bully.

There seemed to be nothing else to do, and the boys turned back.

“Beaten again,” remarked Jack, as they headed for camp. “Well, there’s just one other way of discovering their secret.”

“What is it?” asked Nat.

“Go down the mountain, directly back of their camp, only it’s dangerous because it’s so steep. We can’t take the horses. I’ll try that way, however, before I’ll let Jerry Chowden laugh at us.”

“So will I,” answered Nat, and Sam and Bony said the same thing.

“I think we’re in for a storm,” remarked Will as they jogged along. “It’s beginning to snow.”

A few flakes were sifting lazily down, and they increased by the time the boys reached camp, where they found Budge and Long Gun busy tightening the tent ropes and piling the wood and provisions within the smaller supply tent.

“What’s the matter?” asked Jack.

“Storm comin’,” replied the Indian. “Plenty much bad. Git ready.”

Early the next morning Jack and his chums were awakened by the wind howling about their tent. It was cold, in spite of heavy blankets and thick clothing.

“B-r-r-r!” exclaimed Jack as he crawled out and went to the flap of the tent. Then he gave a startled cry.

“Boys, it’s a regular blizzard!” he said.

Nothing could be seen but a white wall of fiercely swirling snowflakes, while the wind was howling through the trees, threatening every minute to collapse the tent. But Long Gun had done his work well, and the canvas shelter stood.

CHAPTER XXX

JACK’S HAZARDOUS PLAN

The boys crowded up around Jack and peered through an opening in the tent flap.

“Blizzard! I should say so!” exclaimed Nat. “It’s fierce! How are we going to cook any breakfast?”

“Me show,” answered Long Gun with a grin. Then he pointed to where he and Budge, the day before, had constructed, inside the living tent, a small fireplace of stones and earth. There was a piece of pipe that extended outside the canvas wall, and in the improvised stove a blaze was soon started, over which coffee was made, and some bacon fried.

“Let’s go out and see what it’s like,” proposed Sam, as he wrapped himself up warmly.

“No go far,” cautioned Long Gun. “No git back if yo’ do. Heap bad storm.”

“There’s no danger of Sam going too far,” said Jack. “He’s too fond of the warm stove.”

“Get out!” replied Sam. “I can stand as much cold as you can.”

But none of the boys cared to be long in that biting cold, for the wind sent the snowflakes into their faces with stinging force, and the white crystals came down so thickly that had they gone far from the tent it is doubtful if they could have found their way back again.