CHAPTER XX
THE BAYING OF A HOUND
Dick Halliard caught the gleam of the pistol in the hands of theenraged Bob Budd, but before he could bring it into play the youngerlifted up his bicycle, ran it swiftly a few paces, sprang up behind,and set his legs to work with desperate energy.
As he did so he remembered he was still in danger. He leaned as farahead as he could, like a frontier scout trying to avoid the shots ofa party of Indians. It was well he took the precaution, for Bob was sobeside himself with wrath that he deliberately pointed the weapon atthe fast-disappearing fugitive, and let fly with three chambers asfast as he could discharge them. It was not his fault that the bulletssped wide of the mark, for he tried hard to hit the lad that hadhandled him so roughly.
Dick glanced over his shoulder, and as he caught sight of the dimfigure in the moonlight he said, with a smile:
"Bob wouldn't have used his pistol if he wasn't beside himself withrage; any way, I think he and the rest of them will let me alone afterthis."
Bob Budd stood a full minute after the bicyclist vanished in thegloom. By that time his anger gave way to a feeling of alarm, as hereflected on what he had done, or rather tried to do.
He had stopped Dick Halliard on the highway; he had attacked himwithout cause, and when he was fleeing had discharged his pistol athim, doing so with the intention of hitting him with each cartridge.If Dick chose to prosecute him, what could keep him out of Stateprison?
The thought was a startling one, and did not contribute to theRanger's comfort as he picked his way homeward, where, after a time,he was joined by Jim McGovern, returning from his equally markedfailure to "even up" matters with Dick Halliard.
You may be certain that neither Bob nor Jim had anything truthful totell about their meeting with the young man. McGovern stated that helost his way, and, finding the hour was so late, decided to put offhis revenge until a more favorable time. He took care to keep themarks of Bowser's teeth from the sight of the others, and he wastherefore vexed by no annoying questions.
Bob explained that he had been looking for Dick Halliard, and wonderedthat he did not meet him. The news given by his brother Rangers showedthat the doomed youth was elsewhere that evening, which, the bullyadded, was mighty lucky for him.
When Wagstaff commented on the bruised appearance of Bob's face, hereplied that he ran against the trunk of a tree in the woods, and thenhe hastened to change the conversation.
"To-morrow we shall have our hunt, boys," he said, with glowing face,"and here's success to it!"
The others eagerly joined in the toast, for the reason that they neverrefused to join in any toast presented.
"You think we're going to have good weather?" remarked Tom.
"There's no doubt of it. I asked old Swipes, Carter, and the prophets,and they all agree that the weather will be prime for several days tocome."
"If that's to be the case, the best thing for us to do is to sleepwhile we can, so as to be up early in the morning."
The suggestion was so eminently wise that it was adopted withoutfurther delay.
The following morning was one after a hunter's own heart. The air wascrisp and cool, but not sufficiently so to be chilly, nor was it mildenough to render oppressive the slight exertion of walking.
It was too early in the autumn for many of the leaves to fall from thetrees, so that in most places a hunter could see but a short distancein advance when picking his way through the woods.
The Piketon Rangers were not accustomed to rise with the sun, andhaving retired quite late the preceding night, did not rousethemselves as early as was their intention. But their minds were sofixed on the expected enjoyment of the hunt that they willingly putforth the extra exertion needed.
They were in high spirits, for everything was promising, and thebracing air produced its effect upon them.
"I don't think there will be any need of our pistols," remarkedWagstaff, doubtingly, when they were ready to start.
"I generally carry mine at all times," replied Bob Budd, "but we havegot to do some mountain climbing, and will be likely to find them inthe way. I guess we had better leave them."
This settled the question, and the three smaller weapons were hiddenwithin the tent, in a hollow which Bob's ingenuity had fashioned, andwhere the valuables were not likely to be found by any prowlers in theneighborhood.
The rifles which Jim and Tom had brought from home were left at Bob'shouse, and he furnished each with a double-barreled shot gun, as thekind of weapon most likely to be needed, though it seemed to the cityyouths that the others were just what was wanted in the event ofmeeting bears or deer. They had cause to regret their choice soonerthan they anticipated.
Not the least enthusiastic member of the party was Bob Budd's houndHero, that had all a trained animal's enjoyment of the hunt, and whoreceived so few chances of taking part in the sport that his appetitewas at the keenest point.
He darted ahead of the campers, running at his highest speed for ahalf-mile in sheer wantonness of spirits, then darting off at rightangles, and finally trotting back to his friends, as if wondering whythey did not make greater haste.
Several times his baying roused the belief on the part of Jim and Tomthat he had struck the trail of some animal, but Bob, who had been outwith him before, shook his head.
"He lets out a peculiar cry when he takes the scent; I'll know it theminute I hear it."
"But what makes him yelp _now_, when there isn't any game?" askedJim.
"Because he can't help it, just as we sing and shout when we feelhappy and merry."
"There he goes! _That_ means something!" exclaimed Tom, coming toan abrupt halt to listen to the baying of the hound, a considerabledistance ahead.
But Bob again shook his head.
"Wild animals aint so plenty that they can be scared up as quick asall that; we must get further up the mountain before we can look foranything worth shooting."
When Bob was a small boy he had accompanied his uncle on severalhunting expeditions in this part of the world, and he held a brightrecollection of the occasion.
Many years before deer and bears had been plentiful, and he rememberedthat his uncle described how the hunt for a deer should be managedamong the mountainous section to the rear of their camp.
That knowledge promised to be of great help to Bob, now that, afterthe lapse of so long a time, he had started to hunt over the sameground.
The course of the party was steadily ascending, and since there weremany rocks and considerable tangled undergrowth in their way, it wasnot long before they felt the result of the unusual exertion.
"Great Caesar!" exclaimed Tom Wagstaff, dropping down on a log andpanting hard; "this is like a good many other things which don't givehalf as much fun as we expect. Bob, where's that flask?"
The others were also glad to sit down for a brief rest, and Bob lostno time in producing the required article, which was applied to thelips of each in turn with the bottom pointed toward the sky, and apart of the fiery contents gurgled down their throats.
"Of course it's tiresome, because it's all the way up up-hill," saidBob, who took of his hat and fanned his flushed face; "but we'll soonget as high as we want to go, and then it'll be plain sailing."
"It's easy enough to come down-hill, provided it aint too steep."
"If it gets that way, all a fellow has to do is to lie down and roll,"said Bob; "but I'm hopeful that Hero will start some animal before wego much further."
The three listened, but though the hound was absent nothing was heardfrom him. He evidently was making a "still hunt," but the moment hestruck a scent he was sure to let the young hunters know.
Whether or not they did their part, there could be no doubt that thecanine would perform his in a creditable manner, for he had beentrained by competent hands that fully understood how to teach sosagacious an animal.
Having rested themselves, the party pushed up the mountain-side, untilthey reached a sort of plateau or table-land,
beyond which it was notnecessary to climb further.
By this time the three were pretty well tired out again, and once morean appeal was made to the stuff in the flask, without which thehunters felt they could not get along.
Then they indulged in several cigarettes apiece, that and the drink ofalcohol being the worst preparation possible for the sport in whichthey were engaged.
"Now," said Bob Budd, "we have only to wait here until Hero starts thegame for us."
"Will it come up in front of us to be shot?" was the natural inquiryof Tom Wagstaff.
"I shouldn't have said that 'we' are to wait here, but one of us," Bobhastened to explain. "You've noticed that we have been following apath all the way to this point. Well, it keeps on over the mountainand down the other side."
"Who made the path?"
"It is a hundred years old, if not older, and was made by wild animalsthat came down the mountain to drink from the stream that makes themill-pond near our camp. The path branches off into three forks aquarter of a mile up the mountain, each of the three having been usedby deer, bears, and other wild beasts that used to be so plentiful inthese parts."
"Where are the other paths?"
"This is the middle one; about two hundred yards to the left is thesecond, and not quite so far to the right is the third; now, if Herostarts any game he is sure to take one of these paths in his flight."
"But suppose the animal is on the other side of Hero," said Jim, "thatis to say, suppose the dog is between us and him?"
"Then he will run the other way, but there's where Hero will show histraining. He knows as much about hunting as we do."
If Bob had said that the canine knew a great deal more he would havetold the truth.
"If Hero should strike the scent of a deer or bear he would know in aminute whether he was closer to us than the game, and if the dog wasthe closer, he would not bay until he had circled around and got onthe other side, for he knows that if he didn't do so the beast wouldrun _away_ instead of _toward_ us, and his business is todrive him down within our reach."
Tom and Jim were filled with admiration of the brute, whose knowledgeof sporting matters was so extensive.
"I had no idea a pup could be trained to such a fine point," remarkedJim, "but I suppose it is the nature of the beast."
"When I was a sweet, innocent little boy," said Bob, disposed to befacetious, "I came up here with my father and Uncle Jim to hunt deer.They left me at this spot while father went to the left and Uncle Jimto the right. I was too small to handle a gun, and they told me if Isaw anything to yell. Well, a very queer thing happened. A buck anddoe were started, and the old fellow came trotting over this path. Henever saw me until I let out a yell like a wild-cat, when he wheeledoff to one side and dashed through the wood to where father waswaiting. He was shot without trouble, and at the same moment Uncle Jimbrought down the doe, that took the other path."
"Do you suppose there is any likelihood of Hero starting two to-day?"
"We will be lucky if he starts one, for the animals are very scarce,and hunters have spent several days roaming over the mountains withoutgetting a shot."
"It seems to me that to make sure of our sport we should stationourselves as you did," said Jim; "then if the animal comes down thisside of the mountain, he will be sure to take one of the three paths,and Tom or you or I will get a shot at him."
"It will be time enough when we hear Hero," replied Bob, "for he aintlikely to start a deer very near us."
The young man's knowledge of the sport was so much superior to that ofhis companions that they naturally deferred to him in the preliminaryarrangements.
"How long ago was it that you had that famous hunt with your fatherand uncle?" asked Jim McGovern.
Bob reflected a minute, and replied that it was ten years, if notmore.
"You can see that I was but a sprig of a youngster, though I wasconsidered unusually smart. If they had given me a gun, and I had hada chance to kneel down and aim over the rocks, I would have broughtdown that buck, for he couldn't have offered a better target than atthe moment I scared him away."
"Do you suppose," asked Tom Wagstaff, "that any deer have been overthese paths within the past few weeks or months?"
By way of reply Bob stooped down and brushed away the leaves coveringthe space of several feet in front, doing it with great care.
"Look!" said he to the others, who kneeled beside him.
There, sure enough, were the imprints of the small, delicate hoofs ofa deer, the marks being so distinct that there could be no mistakeabout their identity.
"But they are under the leaves," said Jim.
"Yes; under the leaves that have fallen this year, but on top of thosethat fell last fall; you can see how the rotten leaves have beenpushed down in the ground by the hoofs."
"Then how long since the deer went by?"
"It is so early in the autumn that few leaves have fallen, so I'msatisfied the game passed within a few days, probably not more than aweek ago."
"If _that's_ the case," said the gratified Jim, "there is a muchbetter chance than I suspected for us--"
"_Hark!_"
The peculiar cry of the hound at that moment rang out on the autumnair sharp, clear, and distinct.
"He has struck a scent as sure as you're born!" exclaimed Bob.
The Campers Out; Or, The Right Path and the Wrong Page 20
