CHAPTER XVI
THE DESERTED CABIN
Bert's words struck rather a chill to the hearts of his chums. Not thatthey were cowards, for they were not, and they had faced danger before,and were used to doing things for themselves.
But now they were in a strange, mountain wilderness, following anunknown trail, and night was coming on rapidly. The storm had alreadyburst, and it was growing worse momentarily.
"Do you really think we are lost?" questioned Jack, looking about himas well as he could in the maze of white.
"Don't you?" responded Bert. "I can't make out the least sign of atrail in these woods, and we have to follow one to get to Camp No. 3,you know."
"Yes, that's right," put in George. "We are going it blind."
"We've been going according to compass, since we gave up the hunt forthe bear," commented Tom.
"Well, it will be more by good luck than good management if we findeither camp now," said Bert. "But come on--we've got to do something."
"Which way shall we go?" asked George. "We don't want to get lost anyworse than we are."
"We can't!" spoke Bert, dryly--that is, as "dryly" as he could withsnow forcing itself into his mouth. "We're as lost as we'll ever be.The thing now is to start finding ourselves."
"Let's try this way," proposed Tom, indicating the left. "According tomy compass Camp No. 3 ought to lie off about there."
"And how far away?" asked Jack.
"Not more than four miles--maybe five. But we can make that in about anhour and a half, if we don't get off the trail."
"That's the trouble," commented Bert. "We can't see any trail. We aregoing it absolutely blind!"
And going it blind they certainly were. They were all a bit alarmednow, for they had no shelter for the night, and they had eaten most oftheir food.
Suddenly, as they tramped along over the snow, there came a crash inthe underbrush to one side.
"What's that?" cried George, nervously.
"That bear----" began Bert, slinging around his gun.
"Don't shoot!" cried Tom. "It's our dog come back to us!"
And so it was. The intelligent and lonesome brute had abandoned thebear's trail, and had come back to join his human friends. He wasexhausted from long, hard running.
"Now he'll lead us to one camp or another," said Tom. "Welcome to ourcity, Towser!"
"What happened to the bear?" asked Jack, as the dog leaped aboutcaressingly from one to the other.
"Evidently nothing," Tom said. "I don't believe the dog found him. Hisname isn't Towser though, by the way. I've forgotten what Sam did callhim, but it wasn't Towser."
"What makes you think he didn't find the bear?" Bert wanted to know.
"He'd show some evidence of it if he had," was the reply. "He'd have ascratch or two. No, I think he gave up the chase soon after we did, andcame after us."
"Well, now he's here, let's make some use of him," suggested George."Do you really think he'll lead us back to camp, Tom?"
"Well, there's a chance of it," Tom affirmed. "Let's give him a trial.Here, old boy!" he called to the dog, a beautiful specimen. "Home, oldfellow!"
The dog barked, wagged his tail, and set off on a run through thedriving snow. He barked loudly, turning now and then to see if any ofthe four young hunters were following.
"That's the idea!" cried Jack. "Come on, boys. He'll lead us, allright!"
"But _where_, is another question," Tom put in. "My early education wasneglected. I never learned dog talk, though I can swim that fashionpretty well."
"Swimming isn't going to do any good--not in this weather," murmuredBert, buttoning his mackinaw tighter about him, and beating his armsat his sides, for they all had been standing still, and were ratherchilled.
"I could talk hog-Latin," Jack said with a smile, "but I don't believethat is any good for a dog. Call him back, Tom. You seem to have moreinfluence over him than anyone else, and he's getting too far ahead. Iwonder where he's going, anyhow?"
"I don't much care--Camp one, two, or three will suit me just aboutnow," Tom remarked, as he turned his face to avoid a stinging blast ofsnowflakes. "Surely the dog knows his way to all three of them, and,if they are too far, he may lead us to Sam's farm. That wouldn't be sobad."
"Nothing would be bad where there was a warm fire and plenty of grub,"commented Bert. "But call that dog back, Tom, or we'll lose him again.He's off there somewhere, barking to beat the band!"
Tom whistled shrilly. A series of barks came in answer, and, a littlelater the dog himself came bounding through the snow. His muzzle wasall whitened where he had been burrowing, perhaps after some lucklessrabbit. But his bright eyes were glowing as the boys could see inthe half-darkness that had fallen, and Towser, as they continued tocall him, for want of a better name, seemed delighted at something oranother. Whether it was the storm, the fun he had had trailing thebear, or whether he was just glad to be with the boys, and happy overthe prospect of adventures to come, no one could say.
The dog barked, wagged his tail, ran on a little way, came back, barkedsome more, ran on again, and then repeated the performance over andover, getting more and more excited all the while.
"He wants us to follow him," decided Tom. "All right, old man, I'm withyou," he said. "Come on, boys. We'll see what comes of it."
Together the four hunters set off with the dog in the lead. Truth totell they did not feel very much like hunters that day, nor had theyhad any luck. Matters seemed to be going against them. And in the stormand darkness there was a distinct feeling of depression over everyone.The dog was really the only cheerful creature there, and he hadspirits enough for all of them, could they but be transferred.
"Whew! This _is_ a storm!" cried Tom, as he bent his head to the blast.
It did seem to be getting worse. The wind had a keener cut and whirledthe sharp flakes of snow into one's face with stinging force.
"It's a young blizzard," affirmed Jack.
"Well, if it does this in its youthful days, what will happen when itgrows up?" Bert wanted to know, as he paused and turned around to getthe wind out of his face while he caught his breath. No one took thetrouble to answer him.
The dog seemed impatient at the slow progress of the lads, for he wasnow well ahead of them. They could only tell where he was by his barks,and by an occasional flurry of snow as he burrowed in some drift andthen scrambled out again.
"Better call him back again, Tom," suggested George. "He'll get awaybeyond us, and soon it will be so dark we can't see our hands beforeour faces."
"Yes, I guess I will," Tom assented. "I'd put a leash on him if I had abit of cord, and hold him back."
"Here's some," Jack said, offering a piece. "I had it tied around thepackage of sandwiches."
"By the way--any of those same sandwiches left?" asked Tom.
"A few--why?"
"Because that may be all we'll get to eat to-night."
"What's that?" cried Bert. "Aren't we going toward camp?"
"That's what I can't say," was Tom's answer, as he whistled for thedog. "We may, and then, again, we may not."
"But where are we heading, then?" George wanted to know, as Tomproceeded to tie the cord on Towser's collar.
"That's more than I can say," Tom made answer. "We're in the hands offate, as they say in books."
"Well, I'd rather hang to Towser's tail," spoke Jack, with grim humor.
"I'm sorry I got you fellows into this mess," went on Tom, as theyadvanced again through the storm and darkness, this time keeping thedog closer to them by means of the cord.
"What mess?" asked Bert.
"Getting lost, and all that."
"Forget it!" advised Jack. "It wasn't your fault at all. You wanted togo back to No. 2 Camp, and the rest of us favored this move. I wish,now, we had taken your advice."
"Oh, well, mine was only a guess," Tom said. "We might have been asbadly off had we gone the other way. We'll just have to trust to luck.Come on. But what I meant was that coming out t
o-day to hunt was myproposition. I was afraid there was a storm coming."
"We wouldn't have stayed home on that account," George asserted. "We'reall in the same boat together, and we'll have to sink or swim--orskate," he added, as the icy wind smote him.
It was now about six o'clock, but as dark as it would have been atmidnight. The moon was hidden behind dark clouds, but of course thewhite snow made it lighter than otherwise would have been the case. Butin the dense woods even this did not add much to the comfort of ourfriends, and its increasing depth made it harder to walk.
Almost before the boys knew it, they had emerged from the forest to aroad. They could tell that at once.
"Hurray!" cried Tom. "Now we'll be all right. A good road to follow."
"And a signpost, too, to tell us which way to go!" added Jack.
He pointed through the storm to where was evidently a crossroad, at theintersection of which was a post with the familiar boards on it.
"What does it say?" asked Bert, as Tom stood at the foot of it.
"Have to get out the electric light," Tom said, producing a pocketflashlight. By its powerful tungsten gleam, he read:
SEVEN MILES TO RAMSEN
"That's the ticket!" he cried. "Ramsen is the way we want to go. CampNo. 3 lies in that direction. Now we're all right, boys!"
"Good old signpost!" murmured Jack.
But, had he only known it, the signpost was a "bad" one, though, as weknow, that was not the fault of the post itself.
Trudging along the road was easier now, and the boys made better time.But it was tiresome work at that. And when, a little later, they saw abuilding looming up at one side of the road, Bert cried:
"There's our camp now!"
For a moment they thought it was, but a closer look showed that it wasnot. It was an old deserted hut, almost in ruins, and as Tom flashedhis light within, a sorry sight was presented to the eyes of the boys.
"Let's go inside," was Tom's proposal, and his chums looked at him insome amazement.