With Trapper Jim in the North Woods

  CHAPTER XI

  "STEADY, STEVE, STEADY!"

  "Listen!" said Trapper Jim.

  All of them became silent. Even the dogs, as if recognizing some vein ofauthority in that one word spoken by their master, ceased barking, thoughstill straining hard in the leash, as though fairly wild to break away.

  There was a crackling of the bushes, and this grew louder.

  "Oh, I see him!" cried Bandy-legs.

  "Get ready to shoot, everybody, if I give this word; but don't pulltrigger unless you hear me yell you to," called out the trapper.

  Then there was a savage roar that seemed to make the very air quiver. Outof the thicket scrambled a big black bear, looking furious indeed.

  Thinking they were about to be attacked, and in a panic at the very idea,some of the boys leveled their guns. They might have pulled trigger, too,in their excitement, only for the quick warning the old wood's rangergave.

  "Hold your fire, everybody. It's all off. No danger as long as that clogremains fast!" was what he shouted.

  Max could readily grasp the situation. He saw that the angry beast couldonly come just so far, because something was holding one of his hindlegs.

  "The clog's got fast among the rocks in there, and he's held as tight ascan be; that's what's the matter," Steve sang out.

  Of course the only thing left to do now was for some one to put a bulletwhere it would be apt to do the most good.

  Who would be appointed to carry out this part of the programme?

  Steve hoped Trapper Jim would look favorably upon him when seeking acandidate. He had never shot a bear in all his life, and while therewould be little glory attached to the passing of one that was held fastin a trap, still it would be something to think of later on.

  But Trapper Jim was a wise man. He supposed that every one of the boyswas fairly quivering with eagerness to be the one selected.

  As he looked around at the five anxious faces the trapper scratched hishead, as though unable to decide.

  "It can't be did that way," he muttered. "They must draw lots for it, andthe shortest straw wins out. Hear that, boys?"

  "Yes, and it's all to the mustard," said Steve, keeping on the alert, andready to pour in the contents of both barrels should the trapped beargive any evidence of freeing the clog.

  "Then here goes."

  With that the trapper fastened Ajax to a tree, and then, bending down,picked up a number of twigs. These he seemed to pinch off so that theywere all of a size but one, which was shorter.

  "Remember, boys," he said, as he mixed these in his hand, so that onecould not be told from the others, "it ain't the longest pole that knocksthe persimmons this time. The feller who gets the short straw has thechance. Take a pick, Steve."

  Steve, of course, could not hold back. And while the dogs were jumping tothe length of their leashes and barking madly, with the bear roaring anaccompaniment as he tugged desperately at his chain, he drew a splinterof wood.

  "Missed! Gee, what tough luck!" Steve exclaimed, in a chagrined voice, ashe stared at his prize.

  "Try your luck, next!" said Trapper Jim.

  Max made a choice. He met with the same result that had given Steve suchan overwhelming sense of disappointment.

  Then Owen stepped up eagerly.

  "I've got it picked out," he remarked, "and it's all over but theshouting." Then he chose, and was jeered by Steve.

  "That leaves it a toss-up between Toby Jucklin and Bandy-legs!" heexclaimed, envy plainly marked in his voice.

  The two who had yet to draw looked a little frightened. Truth to tell,neither of them experienced anything in the shape of an overwhelmingdesire to "slay the jabberwock," as Owen put it.

  "Draw, Toby, and be quick about it," Steve flung out; "don't you see theold chap's getting all out of patience. Pull out a straw, now, and bedone with it. Whatever you draw settles it."

  So Toby, with trembling fingers, did as he was told. And immediately heglanced down at the one he had taken, he grinned.

  For it was one of the longer straws, similar to those taken by theothers. Bandy-legs grew pale.

  "Do I have to draw?" he asked, almost piteously.

  "Sure you do!" cried Steve. "There's only one left, and you draw that.It's the fatal short one, too. You ring up the prize, Bandy-legs!"

  "But--I didn't have any choice!" remonstrated the one selected by fate tobe the executioner of the trapped bear.

  "Huh, I like that!" laughed Steve. "Why, you had a chance every time oneof us stepped up and made a pick. Go on, now, and get ready to do forhim, unless you've got cold feet and want to hand it over to somebodyelse."

  But somehow Steve's jeering remarks had stirred Bandy-legs' pride. Helooked hard at the other. Then he shut his jaws tight together.

  "Thanks! I guess I'll do the job myself!" he remarked.

  "With that pop gun of yours?" asked the incredulous Steve.

  "No, I'm going to ask Max to lend me his rifle," replied Bandy-legs.

  "Much you know about a repeating rifle!" continued his tormentor.

  "Well, I did fire it a few times at a target, didn't I, Max?" protestedthe chosen one.

  "You sure did, and really hit the target once," Max hastened to answer,as he exchanged guns with Bandy-legs.

  "Huh, that ain't sayin' much, when like as not the target was a _barn_!"

  Ignoring this last thrust from Steve as something beneath his notice,Bandy-legs saw to it that the hammer of the repeating rifle was drawnback.

  "Where'll I stand, Uncle Jim?" he demanded, trying to appear quite cool;but the experienced old trapper knew very well how he was secretlyquivering all over.

  "Here, drop down behind this rock and rest your rifle on it," he said."Now, wait till I say the word, and then press the trigger. Aim just backof the foreleg, because you're more apt to reach his heart there."

  "What if I don't kill him?" asked Bandy-legs, with a big sigh.

  "Clap another shell in and give it to him. Reckon you know how to workthe trombone action, don't you?" the trapper went on to say.

  "Sure I do," answered the Nimrod, lowering his cheek to the stock of thegun.

  "Remember, now, and don't shut your eyes, Bandy-legs!" advised Steve.

  "Let up on that, Steve," remarked Max, who was greatly interested inseeing the novice get a square deal.

  Half a minute of waiting followed. The dogs continued to jump and bark,and the bear, made savage by his pain, tugged at his chain and growled.

  "Shoot!" said Trapper Jim, suddenly.

  Almost with the word came the clear report of the rifle, showing that atleast Steve's jibes had had the effect of putting Bandy-legs on hismettle.

  With a fearful roar the bear fell over and began struggling. The dogsseemed almost frantic now in their desire to break loose.

  "Quick, work the pump action and get ready!" called out Trapper Jim.

  Bandy-legs managed to do as he was told, though he was shaking so by thistime that he almost let the gun drop.

  "Hold on, no use wasting another shot. I reckon he's done for," was whathe heard Trapper Jim say.

  "And you've been and gone and killed a real live bear, Bandy-legs!" saidMax.

  The boy heaved a sigh as he gave back the rifle.

  "But he was held fast in a trap, Max," he said, moodily; "guess thatain't so much to crow over."

  "But ain't he a whopper!" exclaimed Steve, who was at the bear's sidealmost as soon as the animal had ceased to struggle.

  "If we only had a c-c-camera here now we'd take him with his f-f-footplanted on the old b-b-bear and holdin' his g-g-gun!" exclaimed Toby.

  Here was plenty of work for all hands.

  The bear must first of all be skinned, because Jim said he had a splendidhide that would be worth a good deal to him when properly dried.

  Then they wanted some of the meat, in fact all that was worth while, forJim would dry that which they did not consume.

  "Plenty of fat, too," he observed, as he worked. "I like
that, becauseI'm short just now on bear's grease, and a supply would come in handy."

  "What do you use it for, Uncle Jim?" asked Owen.

  "Dozens of things. I rub it on boots, I keep my guns and ax from rustin'by smearin' it on. Why, long ago in the woods I've known where familiesmade candles out of bear's fat by using a wick in the middle."

  By degrees he managed to cut the bear up. The meat was wrapped inpackages, so that it might all be transported to the cabin.

  "What about the trap; will you set it again?" asked Steve.

  "Not here," was the reply. "No other bear is likely to come along thetrail this fellow made. One of you boys had best tote it back home. I mayneed it again this winter if the season stays open and the bears come outto look around, like they do mild winters."

  It was well on toward noon when they arrived once more at the cabin, eachone being pretty well loaded down.

  They concluded to have a bite to eat before attempting anything further.But the cooking of the bear meat would have to be deferred until laterin the day, as it would take too much time.

  Feeling refreshed after their meal, the boys announced themselves readyto undertake any further business.

  Max, Steve, and Toby were to take that four-mile tramp after the venisonthat had been left behind on their former trip.

  "Seems like we're getting our share of happenings up here," remarkedSteve, as he and his two chums tramped steadily on.

  "Well, yes, it does look that way, Steve."

  "Things come along right smart these days and nights," continued theother. "And already it's paid us for the long trip, 'cording to mycalculations."

  "It certainly has," admitted Max.

  "With more'n a week more to come," added Steve. "And there's only onething I feel bad about, too."

  "I think I could give a guess what that is," said Max; "the bobcat."

  "Hit it plumb center that time," laughed the other, as he shifted his gunto the other shoulder, for on the four-mile tramp it was beginning tofeel rather heavy.

  "Well, I wouldn't bother my head any over that fellow getting awayscot-free," Max continued. "He didn't do any damage, and, as Uncle Jimsays, you might have been sorry if you went out in the dark woods lookingfor trouble. When anybody does that he generally finds it, all right."

  "But I hope I just happen on the old pirate again while we're up in thisneck of the woods," observed the persistent Steve. "I'd just like to lookalong the barrels of my gun at the varmint, as Jim calls him."

  "Yes, Steve, and he said he had an idea this was the same old cat thatgave him a peck of trouble last winter, stealing some of the animals thatwere in his traps, but always avoiding getting caught himself."

  "Why, Uncle Jim even tried to poison the thief, but nary a bite would thecat take of the doctored meat," Steve went on. "I hope this is the sametough old customer and that I sight him when I've got my gun along,that's all."

  "We've got there, Steve. I can see the very tree where we hung up thebalance of the little buck we knocked over."

  Steve could not but note how Max persistently gave him an equal share inthe credit of killing the deer. It warmed his heart toward such agenerous chum. But, then, that was always the way with Max Hastings.

  "Let's go a little slow, Steve," he continued; "we can't see the deer,because of the leaves that still hang on to the oak."

  Silently then they advanced.

  And just as they arrived at a spot where they could see the hangingcarcass, again did they hear that ferocious snarl as on the precedingnight. Steve instantly threw his gun up to his shoulder, and at the sameinstant he heard Max at his elbow saying:

  "Steady, Steve, steady! Look out, he's going to jump."