Bart Keene's Hunting Days; or, The Darewell Chums in a Winter Camp

by Burt L. Standish

  CHAPTER IV

  IN THE SHOOTING GALLERY

  Fenn's suggestion gave a new impetus to the hunt, which was renewed withenergy. Mrs. Masterson, who heard from the boys what had taken place,joined them in searching through the long grass of the back yard for theturtle. But it was not to be found.

  "It's very likely a good distance from here," said Fenn, who was wellversed in the habits of the reptiles. "They go slow, but they keep itup, and this one has had two days' start. We'll have to hunt farther offthan this for him."

  "Then that's what we'll do!" declared Frank. "We'll organize ourselvesinto a hunting party for a diamond-studded turtle," and he laughed.

  "It's no laughing matter, though," declared Bart. "If we go back andtell that kind of a yarn we'll look ridiculous."

  "Then why tell it?" inquired Ned. "Let's keep mum about that part of it,too. We'll simply report to Professor Long that we can't find his wife'sbracelet, or the turtle, either, but every spare minute we get we'll beon the lookout for the reptile."

  "And the man, too," added Fenn. "We want to find out who he was."

  "Of course," agreed Bart. "We should have given the alarm when we sawhim going in the school, but it's too late now. Come on back, and takeour medicine."

  It was not a very happy quartette of lads who made their way back to theDarewell High School. They went directly to Professor Long, who turnedhis physics class over to another instructor, and conducted the chums tohis private room.

  "Well?" he asked suggestively.

  "We couldn't find the bracelet or the turtle," said Bart.

  "I was afraid not," was Mr. Long's quiet comment. "I have notified thedetectives."

  "You--you're not going to have us arrested--are you?" blurted out Frank."My father----"

  "Have no fears on that score," answered the professor. "I have not theslightest grounds for thinking you boys _stole_ the bracelet," and,perhaps unconsciously, he emphasized the word.

  "We never took the bracelet!" declared Ned stoutly.

  "Of that I am not so sure," was the retort. "I do not accuse you--thatwould not be right. You have accused yourselves, after a fashion. What Ithink is this: I believe the bracelet was accidentally taken out of thecabinet in the confusion, and, perhaps, dropped on the way to Fenn'shouse. That is why I am sending for the police. Some person may havepicked it up, and may be keeping it. I believe that is all now. You mayreturn to your classes," and though he tried to speak calmly, there wasa note of disappointment, not to say displeasure, in Mr. Long's voice.

  Naturally the story was all over the school by the noon recess, and Bartand his chums were besieged with questions. They had held a briefconsultation, and resolved to make only certain statements. These wereto the effect that though they had played the trick with the reptiles,they knew nothing of the bracelet, and their search for that and theturtle, had been without avail.

  Needless to say, that few, if any, of the students had the leastsuspicion against the chums. Nor, for that matter, did any of the facultyentertain any unjust thoughts. It was regarded more as an accident. Mr.Long being the party who suffered, could, perhaps, be excused forthinking that perhaps the boys had taken the bracelet in a joke, and werenow afraid to return it. In fact he hardly knew what to believe. In duetime the police came to the school, made an investigation and questionedour heroes. They went away as wise as they came. But, as several dayspassed, and there was no trace of the bracelet, there was an undefinedair of suspicion directed against the chums. It was not in so many words,but nevertheless they felt it.

  Two weeks passed, during which, in all of their spare time, Bart and hischums made a search for the turtle in such places as the reptiles werewont to be found. But, of course, they discovered none wearing a diamondbracelet on its neck, though they did find a few specimens which Fennadded to his collection. It was not the time of year when turtlesabounded.

  Several football games were played, and there seemed to be no ill spiritmanifested against the four lads, until one Saturday about three weeksafter the disappearance of the diamond ornament. Then, during ahotly-contested game with the Fernwood High School, one of the opposingplayers remarked to Bart, after a hard scrimmage:

  "We're not used to playing against diamond robbers, and maybe that's whywe can't break through your line."

  Bart's answer was a blow that knocked the sneering lad down, andresulted in Bart being ruled out of the game. From then on the Darewelleleven seemed to go to pieces, and they lost the game.

  There were many sore hearts among the students that night, and accusingglances were cast at Bart. His chums felt his position deeply.

  "I know it was a hasty thing to do," said Bart, contritely, "but Icouldn't help it."

  From then on there seemed to be a spirit manifested against the fourchums, and, naturally, they resented it. The others would not desertBart, and when he refused to apologize to the lad he had struck, and waspermanently ruled off the eleven, Ned, Frank and Fenn resigned. Theyresisted the pleading of the manager to remain, so that the schooleleven would not be crippled.

  "It's the school's place to stick by us, as much as it is ours to stickby the eleven," declared Frank. "The fellows are beginning to think wetook that bracelet. We'll show them that we didn't, and, in themeanwhile, it's better that we don't take part in any games."

  His chums agreed with him, and for a time it seemed as if they would besent to Coventry. But a calmer spirit prevailed, and when some of theschool societies took up the matter it was agreed that the four had aright to do as they pleased, and that the lad who had made the offensiveremark was in the wrong; and so matters quieted down.

  But the football season ended anything but brilliantly for Darewell, andthe four chums felt this bitterly in their hearts, though they could dono differently than they had done.

  "I should think you boys would hire a detective on your own account,"said Alice Keene to her brother, one November evening, when the fourchums were at Bart's house. "You could get one easily, and perhaps hecould locate the bracelet for you."

  "We'll do it ourselves," remarked Bart firmly.

  "If we could only find the turtle we'd have it, I'm sure," declaredFenn, who had not lost faith in his odd theory.

  "We've looked in every likely place where turtles are around here," saidFrank.

  "Yes; and now we ought to go farther off," came from Ned. "I say fellows,what's the matter with going on a little hunting expedition soon? Theweather is just right, we all have guns, and I think the trip would do usgood."

  "Why not make it a big hunting expedition while we're at it?" suggestedFrank.

  "A big one? What do you mean?" asked Bart.

  "Why, I mean go camping, as we did not long ago. We don't mind the cold,or ice and snow. We could make a winter camp, around the Christmasholidays, and have lots of sport."

  "And a Christmas tree in the woods!" cried Alice. "That would be lovely!Jennie Smith and I would come out and see you--if it wasn't too far."

  "Yes, Jennie'd recite poetry, and you'd insist on making us drink hotginger tea, so as not to catch cold," observed Bart.

  Alice looked a little hurt, until Ned added:

  "Well, I'm sure ginger tea would be all right in a snow storm, such aswe had the last time we camped in the winter."

  "Of course," agreed Alice, gratefully.

  "It would be a good thing to get away from school and the town ofDarewell for a while, at least," was Bart's opinion. "People arebeginning to think we really stole that bracelet."

  "Oh, Bart!" remonstrated Alice, reproachfully.

  "Well, it's the truth," he went on doggedly. "I'd as soon have 'em sayit as look it. I'd like to get away for that reason, and, of course, itwould be sport to have a winter camp again."

  "Then let's do it," proposed Ned. "At the same time we can look for mudturtles."

  "You won't see many, unless there's a thaw," was Fenn's opinion. "Butyou can count on me going."

  "And me," added Frank and Ned.

&n
bsp; "Hasn't anything been learned of the missing bracelet yet?" asked Mrs.Keene, coming into the room, in time to hear some of the conversation.

  "No," answered her son, "and it's my opinion that it never will befound, until--" He paused in some confusion.

  "Until when?" asked his mother.

  "Until we locate it," finished Bart. "Well, fellows, let's talk of awinter camp. Maybe we can manage it around the holidays. We don't getmuch of a vacation, but I guess we could afford to take an extra week."

  "Is your gun in shape again, since you broke it?" asked Ned.

  "Sure. I fixed that spring," replied Bart. "I'll show you. Come on up tomy den. I'm not allowed to have firearms in the dining-room," and he ledthe way, his chums following. From then on, until the three left, thetalk was a conglomeration of powder, shot, shells, guns, game andcamp-life.

  The weeks passed. Little mention was made of the bracelet now, but Mr.Long showed by his manner that he had not forgotten the loss of it. Hewas not exactly distrustful of the boys, but his bearing was, to say theleast, a bit suspicious.

  One evening, following an examination in school, Bart remarked to hischums, as they gathered at his house:

  "Come on down to the shooting gallery. They've got some new guns there,and I want to try them. It's good practice if we're going camping.Besides, I'm full of Latin verbs and Greek roots, and I want to clear mymind."

  "You don't need any practice," remarked Ned. "You can beat us all topieces shooting."

  "I have to keep in practice, though," asserted Bart, who, to give himcredit, was quite expert with the rifle.

  A little later the four were in the gallery, trying their skill with thenew rifles which the proprietor had purchased.

  "Here's one that ought to suit you, Bart," remarked the man in charge,who was well known to the boys. "It's well balanced. Try that smalltarget."

  "No, I want something moving, Clayton," replied Bart. "Start off thebirds and beasts."

  These were small images of birds and squirrels that moved around on asort of endless chain arrangement. Clayton, the man in charge of thegallery, set the machinery in motion, and the painted effigies began togo around. Bart raised the rifle--a repeater--to his shoulder, tookquick aim, and fired. A bird was knocked over, then a squirrel wentdown, and, in rapid succession he repeated this until he had fifteenhits to his credit, out of a possible sixteen.

  "Fine!" cried Ned, enviously.

  "I should have had 'em all," announced Bart with a shake of his head."Here, some of you fellows try."

  They did, but could not do nearly as good as had Bart. Then Bartcontented himself with making bullseyes at a stationary target, thoughFrank and Ned made another effort to equal Bart's record with the movingobjects. Frank came the nearest with ten.

  "Now I'll try for sixteen out of sixteen," announced Bart, as Claytonreloaded the weapon for him.

  By this time a crowd had gathered in the gallery, which, being a newamusement resort in town, was quite an attraction. Bart paid noattention to the spectators grouped back of him, but, with the coolnessa veteran shot might envy, he began.

  Report after report rang out, and at each burst of flame and puff ofsmoke a bird or a squirrel toppled over, until fifteen straight had gonedown.

  "That's the stuff!" cried one man, enthusiastically, as Bart was aboutto make his last shot.

  "Hush!" cautioned Clayton, but Bart did not mind. He fired his lastbullet, and knocked over his sixteenth target, only he did not hit it assquarely as he had the others.

  "That's very good shooting, my lad," remarked a man who had stood nearBart's elbow. "Very good indeed. Would you like to try your skill withme; on a little wager?"

  "I never bet," answered Bart, coolly, as he tried to get a glimpse ofthe man's face. But the latter wore a slouch hat, which was pulled welldown over his eyes, shading his features.

  "Oh, I don't mean a bet," was the quick answer. "I only meant that theloser would pay the bill for cartridges," and he laughed, notunpleasantly. As Bart had often done this with his chums, and other ladsin town, he had no objection to it, and the arrangement was made.

  "What shall it be, sixteen straight?" asked the stranger, as hecarefully selected a gun.

  "Double it if you like," replied Bart, who was just warming up to hiswork.

  "Ah, you're game, I see," was the laughing comment. "Well, I'm willing.Will you go first?"

  "I'll shoot sixteen shots, then you can do the same, then I'll takesixteen more, and you can finish," answered Bart, and this arrangementwas made.

  By this time word had gotten around that some remarkable shooting wasgoing on in the gallery, and it was packed almost to the doors. Bart andthe stranger had difficulty in getting room to aim properly.

  Bart started off, and in rapid succession made sixteen straight targetsof the moving objects. There was a cheer, and it was repeated when hisrival duplicated the lad's performance. Bart was not exactly annoyed,but he felt that his reputation was at stake. He was easily accountedthe best shot in Darewell, but now it seemed likely that he would haveto share the honors with this stranger. Bart felt himself wishing thatthe man would show his face, but the soft hat remained pulled down wellover the fellow's eyes.

  Bart began on his second round, and all went well until the last shot.Then, in some unaccountable manner, he missed it clean. Still, hisperformance was a fine one.

  The stranger said nothing as he took his place. Slowly and confidentlyhe pulled the trigger, and worked the lever that ejected the dischargedshell, and pumped a new bullet into place. For fourteen shots he nevermade a miss. Then, on the fifteenth of the second round he made a blankby a narrow margin. A start of annoyance betrayed itself. At best hecould but tie Bart. Once more the gun sent out flame and smoke.

  "Missed!" called out Clayton, quickly, as he looked at the target.

  Bart had won. The stranger paused a moment, as if to make sure that hehad lost, and then, throwing down on the counter the price for his shotsand Bart's, he turned to leave the place. Several stared at him, for itseemed as if he should have said something, or congratulated his rival,but he did not. He pushed his way through the press of men and boys, andreached the outer door.

  Then, by some accident, a man brushed against him, and the stranger'shat came off. Bart, who was looking at him, could not repress anexclamation of astonishment.

  "What's the matter?" asked Clayton.

  "Nothing--nothing," murmured Bart, quickly.

  "Come on, show us some fancy shooting," urged Sandy Merton, who at onetime had been an enemy of the chums, but who was now on friendly termswith them.

  "No--I can't--now," answered Bart, a bit shortly. "Come on, fellows," hecalled to Ned, Frank and Fenn. They followed him, wondering at hishaste. Bart was making his way rapidly to the door. Once outside hegazed up and down the street. It was deserted, and lay cold and silentunder the moon.

  "He's gone!" exclaimed Bart, in disappointed tones.

  "Who?" inquired Ned.

  "That man--the man I shot against."

  "Well, what difference does that make? Did you want another contest? Youbeat him."

  "I know it," spoke Bart quietly. "But do you know who he was?"

  "No," answered Frank and Fenn together.

  "He was the man we saw getting into the school the night Mrs. Long'sdiamond bracelet was taken!" answered Bart. "That's the man who canprove that we are innocent--that's the thief! Come on, let's see if wecan catch him!" and Bart started off on a run.