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

“Then let’s get the sled out and look it over,” said Jack.

The old sled seemed to be in fairly good condition. It was roughly but strongly made, as it had to be to stand dragging over the mountain trails. The boys hauled it to the edge of the slope.

“Get on,” called Jack as he began piling upon the flat top his gun and a package of food he had brought along.

“Wait a minute,” proposed Nat.

“What’s the matter now?” inquired Jack. “You’re not going to back out, are you?”

“No, but it just occurred to me that we’d better have some sort of a brake on this thing. If we get going down that mountain we might not be able to stop.”

“We don’t want to, until we get to the camp.”

“But s’pose we get to a ravine, or something like that?”

“Well, I guess it would be better to have a brake or drag,” admitted Jack. “I’ll tell you how we can make one. Get a long sapling, sharpen one end, and put it down through a hole in the back of the sled. When you want to stop, just jab it into the ground, and it will scrape along.”

“Better have two, while you’re at it,” said Sam. “Then we can steer with them by jabbing first one, then the other down. They will slew us around whichever way we want to go.”

“Fine!” cried Jack, always willing to give any of his chums the credit for a good invention. “We’ll do it.”

With a small hatchet, which they had brought with them, two stout saplings were cut, trimmed of their branches and sharpened to points. Then they were thrust down holes in the rear of the sled, near where the wooden runners came to an end.

“Now I guess we’re all ready,” remarked Jack as he surveyed the work. “Get aboard, fellows, for the Snow Sled Limited. No stops this side of Chicago.”

“And maybe not there, if we get going too fast,” spoke Bony grimly.

They had taken off their snowshoes, and piled them on the bob, with their guns and packages of food. Then the boys took their places.

“All ready?” asked Jack as he took his seat in front.

“As ready as we ever shall be,” replied Will, who was a trifle nervous.

“Then push off, Sam,” called Jack, for Sam and Nat had taken their places at the two brake poles. They used them to shove the sled nearer the edge of the hill, and then, as the sled began to move, they slipped the sharpened saplings into the holes again.

Slowly the sled began to go down the hill. At first the slope was gradual, and the speed was not great. Then, as the side of the mountain became more steep, the bob gathered headway, until it was moving along swiftly.

“Hold on, everybody!” cried Jack. “There’s a bump just ahead of us!”

The warning came only just in time, for the sled reached a sort of ridge in the slope, and bounded up in the air. The boys went with it, and as they stayed up a little longer than the sled did, when they came down they did so with considerable force, so that the breath was nearly shaken out of them.

“Ouch!” cried Nat. “I bit my tongue.”

“Lucky it’s no worse,” spoke Jack. “Did we lose anything off the sled, Will?”

“No, but your gun came near going,” for the food and other objects had slid around when the jolt came. “I held on to them,” went on the strange lad, who, from the association of Jack and his chums, was fast losing his odd manner.

“That’s the idea! Well, we certainly are moving now.”

And indeed they were. The sled was increasing its speed every moment, and was now whizzing along over the snow like some racing automobile, but with none of the noise. The snow, by reason of thawing and freezing, had acquired a hard, slippery surface, and the sled, the broad runners of which did not sink in, was fairly skimming along over it.

“Try the brakes!” Jack called back to Sam and Nat. “Let’s see if they work.”

“Put on brakes!” called Nat, giving vent to a couple of screeches in imitation of a whistle.

“That means let off brakes,” said Sam. “One whistle is to put ’em on.”

“What’s the odds?” inquired Nat. “Put your pole down.”

He was already shoving on his, and Sam did likewise. There was a shower of white flakes behind the sled as the sharp points of the poles bit into the snow. There followed a scratching sound, and two long depressions appeared to mark the wake of the bob. Then the speed began to slacken.

“They work all right,” Jack announced. “We’ll try how they steer, now.”

“Off brakes!” shouted Sam, and he and Nat pulled up the poles.

Once more the sled shot forward, coasting down the side of the mountain. Bony sat beside Jack, in front, while Will was in the centre, surrounded by the guns and packages.

“Wow!” exclaimed Bony suddenly. “There’s a bad place just ahead.”

“I see,” remarked Jack. “We must go to one side of it.”

The place was a little hollow in the face of the mountain, and if the sled, which was headed directly for it, dipped down into it, there might be a serious accident.

“Jab your pole down, Nat!” cried Jack, as he calculated to which side of the hollow it was best to pass. “Jab it hard.”

“Hard it is!” repeated Nat, as he bore down on his pole with all his force.

The result was more than they bargained for. The sled slewed suddenly around, and only by clinging desperately to it did the boys manage to save themselves from being spilled off.

“Let go!” yelled Jack quickly.

“Let go it is!” Nat managed to repeat, as he pulled up his pole.

The sled slung around straight again, and continued to slide, but the steering had been successful, for they passed well to one side of the hole.

“I guess a light jab will be all we’ll need to change the course of this schooner,” remarked Bony. “No more of those ‘hard ’a port’ orders, Jack.”

“That’s right. We had a narrow escape.”

On and on they went, Jack watching carefully for holes or rocks, that he might call orders to steer to one side or the other of them. The sled answered her “helm” readily, and, when there was need to slacken speed, the same poles served as brakes.

There was still a long snowy stretch before them, though they had come a mile or more. It was fully five miles to the bottom of the slope, where the valley began and where they knew the mysterious men were encamped.

The course they were on led almost straight down, and, by some curious freak of nature, it was quite like a cleared road down the side of the mountain. There were few trees in the path the sled was taking, and it seemed as if, in ages gone by, a great snowslide or avalanche had gone crashing down the declivity, preparing a path upon which, however, few would have ventured.

Now the speed, which had slackened on a place where the slope was not so great, became faster. The wind whistled in the ears of the boys, and the broad runners were throwing up a fine shower of frozen snow.

Faster and faster the bob went. It was skimming along like a great bird now, and the course was so clear that there was no need of steering.