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

Suddenly Jack spied, just ahead of them, a great boulder, partly covered with snow. To strike it meant a disaster, and the sled was headed right for it.

“Sam! Sam!” cried Jack. “Put your pole down.”

This would slew the sled to one side. Sam, bearing in mind what had happened when Nat put his sapling down too suddenly, gently dug his point into the snow. But, so great was the speed, that the sled was slewed around almost as badly as before.

But it cleared the rock, and then righted itself.

“Say, but we’re going some,” remarked Bony.

Jack nodded.

“Too fast,” he called. “Put on the brakes, fellows.”

Nat and Sam prepared to obey this order. They bore down on the saplings, but the sled seemed only to go the faster.

“Put on brakes! Hard!” yelled Jack.

“We’re trying to,” called Sam.

He and Nat bore down with all their force. They could hear the ends of the saplings scraping over the frozen snow, but they did not seem to take hold. There was no shower of frozen crystals – no depressions behind the runners.

The sled went faster and faster. Then Nat understood.

“The points of the brakes are worn off!” he cried. “They won’t take hold!”

“Take ’em up and sharpen ’em!” shouted Jack. “We’ve got to slacken up or we’ll be hurt! Sharpen the stakes.”

It was the only thing to do. The points of the poles, dragging over the hard snow, had been worn flat and smooth. It was hard work, putting points on them, aboard the swaying bob, but Sam and Nat, aided by Bony and Will, managed to do it with the hatchet. All the while the sled was skimming along, faster and faster.

“Jab ’em in! Jab ’em in!” yelled Jack desperately.

Nat and Sam did so. There was a scraping sound, as the sharp points bit into the snow, but the speed of the sled did not seem to slacken.

“The snow’s frozen too hard!” cried Nat. “We can’t stop it now!”

“You’ve got to!” yelled Jack. “We’re going like greased lightning!”

But, try as Nat and Sam did, they could not force the newly-sharpened stakes into the ground. Jack, Bony and Will added their strength, but it was of no use.

Faster and faster the sled leaped down the slope. The wind cut the faces of the boys, and the flying particles of snow, freed by the edges of the runners, stung them like needles.

“We can’t stop!” said Nat, hopelessly.

Straight as an arrow flew the sled.

“Look! Look!” cried Will, and he pointed ahead.

There, right in the path, and not a quarter of a mile away, at the foot of the hill down which they were shooting like a rocket, was a patch of blackness.

“It’s a lake! A lake of open water!” cried Jack. “Get ready to jump!”

CHAPTER XXXII

INTO A STRANGE CAMP

It seemed that this was the only thing to do. To remain on the sled, as it plunged into the black water, might mean that they would be drawn down into the depths, never to come up. So the lads prepared to leap from the swiftly-moving sled.

Yet they would not jump without their guns, and they hesitated a moment while they secured them. Then they moved to the edge of the bob.

But to leap from it, while it was traveling almost with the speed of a railroad train, meant no little risk. No wonder they hesitated, especially as there was no place to land but on the hard, frozen surface of the snow, down which they were sliding.

Still, it was a choice of two desperate expedients, and, as they supposed, they were choosing the lesser evil.

“Here we go!” cried Nat, as he crouched for a spring.

“No! Wait! Wait!” almost screamed Jack. “That’s not water! It’s ice! It’s ice! We’re all right! Stay on!”

He had called only just in time, for, as the sled came nearer to the black patch, he had seen, from the glint of light upon its surface, that it was hard, black, thick ice.

A moment later the sled, striking a little hollow place bounded into the air. It came down with a thump, and in another second was skimming over the frozen surface of a little pond. Straight across it flew, into a snow bank on the other side, where it came to an abrupt stop.

So sudden, in fact, was the halting, that Will, who was near the front end, was shot from the bob, and came down in the bank of snow, head first.

“Pull him out!” cried Jack, as he leaped off.

“Maybe he’s hurt.”

The others hastened to the aid of their chum, and he was soon hauled out. He seemed dazed, and there was blood coming from a cut on his head.

“Hurt much?” asked Jack anxiously.

“No – not much – hit my head on a stone under that pile of snow, I guess. But where are we?”

“Where we started for, I think,” replied Jack. “My, but that was a trip!”

“Petrified pole-cats! I should say so!” ejaculated Nat. “I thought we were goners!”

“Same here,” remarked Sam. “But we don’t seem to have arrived at any place.”

“We’re at the foot of the hill,” spoke Bony. “That’s something,” and he tried to crack his knuckle joints, forgetting that he had thick mittens on.

“Let’s see what’s beyond those trees,” proposed Jack, after they had rested, and he pointed to some dark pines that fringed one shore of the pond. “Bring your guns, fellows, and come on.”

“What about the grub?” asked Nat.

“Leave it on the sled,” replied Jack. “We’ll probably come back here.”

He led the way to the trees, and passed beyond the natural screen they formed, followed by his chums. No sooner had he penetrated the thick branches, than he uttered a cry of surprise. And well he might.