Bart Keene's Hunting Days; or, The Darewell Chums in a Winter Camp
Page 13
CHAPTER XIII
THE MUD VOLCANO
Bart's first act, on awakening in the morning, was to go to the tentflap, and look out. Then he called to his companions, who were stillasleep:
"Say fellows, it's a fine day; only it's snowing."
"Did you wake us up to tell us that?" demanded Ned, as he turned overfor another nap.
"Well, you don't want to sleep all day, do you?" asked Bart, looking athis watch. "It's eight o'clock. If we're going to do any hunting we'dbetter get a move on."
There was much yawning and stretching, but finally the chums were up anddressed, and breakfast was served.
"Now for a nice lot of game," exclaimed Bart, as he got out his rifle,and looked over his supply of ammunition. "I think I'll load for bearto-day."
"Do you mean to say you expect to go shooting in this storm?" askedFrank, for it was still snowing. The white flakes were of a considerabledepth on the ground, but the two tents, standing as they did under somegigantic pine trees, were much protected.
"Of course we're going hunting to-day," declared Bart. "That's what wecame for. Some bear steak wouldn't go at all bad, especially as we can'tget fresh meat here."
"No, nor fresh bread, either," added Ned. "I miss my rolls with mycoffee."
"I'm going to bake some biscuits for dinner," declared Fenn. "I broughtalong some self-raising flour."
"Good for you, Stumpy!" cried Ned. "Pity, though, you didn't bring alongsome self-baking bread, and some washless dishes."
"Well, if we're going, let's go," proposed Frank. "Will it be safe toleave our stuff in camp, unprotected?"
"We can't take it with us," said Bart. "Besides, there isn't any onewithin ten miles of this place. That's why I wanted to camp here. Itwill be all right. Well, I'm ready if you are."
"I'm going to take my shot-gun," decided Frank. "Maybe I'll see somewild turkeys or some partridge. They'll do if Bart doesn't get hisbear."
Fenn, instead of getting ready his gun, as the others were going, hadgone to the box where he had placed the large turtle, captured the nightprevious.
"For cats' sake!" exclaimed Ned, "aren't you done playing with that yet,Fenn?"
"I'm not playing," was the retort. "I'm going to try an experiment."
"Aren't you going hunting with us?" asked Bart.
"Not this morning. I'm going to solve this mystery of the turtles, if Ican. Besides you fellows will shoot all that's necessary. I'll stayaround here, and get ready for a partridge pot-pie or a bear roast, justas you prefer."
"Oh, come on hunting," pleaded Bart. "What's the fun in staying here?"
"Well, I don't know as I shall stay right in camp," went on Fenn. "I'mgoing to make this turtle lead me to where the other ones went. In otherwords, I'm going to use this one as a guide."
"You're crazy!" scoffed Ned.
"Maybe," admitted Fenn, calmly. "You fellows go on with your hunting,and when you come back maybe I'll have something to show you."
They tried to induce Fenn to accompany them, but he was firm in hisdetermination to solve the "turtle mystery," as he called it, and, inthe end, Bart, Ned and Frank tramped off through the storm, for it wasstill snowing, while the stout lad remained behind, watching the turtle,which he had placed on a cleared place on the ground in front of thetent.
"Now go ahead, my fine fellow," spoke Fenn to the reptile. "Which way doyou want to head?"
The turtle seemed undecided about it, for some time after Fenn hadplaced it on the ground it did not move, but remained with head, legsand tail withdrawn into the protecting shell. But Fenn was patient, andknew better than to poke the reptile to make it move. Presently a long,snake-like neck was thrust out, and black, beady eyes glanced cautiouslyaround, while the parrot jaws were slightly parted, as if to ward offany attack.
Fenn kept behind the turtle, which, in a few minutes, finding that itwas not disturbed, stuck out its legs, and began to raise itself up, asif taking an observation. Then it turned partly around, and, to Fenn'sdelight, started to crawl in the same direction as that taken by theother two reptiles the previous evening.
"That's the stuff!" cried Fenn. "That confirms my theory. There's someplace where these turtles hang out, and I'm going to find it. The threewe found must have wandered away from the common camping ground of theturtles of this vicinity, but they all head back toward it. Now I'mgoing to find it."
He did not wait for the reptile he had captured to lead him to theplace. That would have taken too long, but, after quickly scratchinghis initials on the back of the turtle's shell, together with the date,so he would know the reptile again, Fenn replaced it on the ground, andstarted off through the woods in the indicated direction. He had his gunwith him, but he did not expect to do any shooting, and he carried apocket compass, for the woods were unfamiliar to him.
For a long distance Fenn tramped on, plowing through the woods, makingturns now and then to avoid streams, partly frozen over, leaping themwhen he could, fording them at other times, for he had on high,water-proof hunting boots, but keeping as nearly as he could in theproper course.
"Maybe I'll find a well-protected cave, where the turtles live duringwinter," thought the stout lad, as he made his way under some lowhemlock trees, well laden with a blanket of snow. "If I do, I can getsome new specimens, anyhow, and perhaps enough to sell to that man whowrote me the letter. Mighty queer about him. I wonder who he was? Iwonder if, by any possibility, he could be up here in these woods?"
This idea caused Fenn to look around somewhat apprehensively, but therewas no one in sight. He did see something, however, that caused hisheart to beat faster, and this was a brace of plump partridges on atree, not far away.
"I wonder if I can shoot straight enough to bag them?" murmured the lad,as he quickly raised his gun, and banged away, first with the left, andthen with the right barrel. Somewhat to his surprise when the smokecleared away, Fenn saw the two birds lying in the snow. He had made agood shot.
"Well, we won't go hungry to-night, anyway," was his comment, as hepicked them up and put them in the pockets of his hunting coat. "But I'mgoing to keep on," he added.
He had gone perhaps half a mile farther, when he suddenly stopped andsniffed the air suspiciously.
"Sulphur spring," he remarked, half aloud. "Guess I'll go take a look atit. Whew! It's strong enough. I don't need any other guide than mynose."
Making sure of the direction in which the strong odor of sulphur waswafted to him, Fenn temporarily abandoned his quest for the place of theturtles. The odor grew more pronounced, for some sulphur springs are sostrongly impregnated with that chemical in solution that the smellcarries for miles, especially on a windy day. The region where the chumshad gone camping, as they learned later, was well supplied with thesefreaks of nature.
A few minutes later Fenn had come upon the object of his search. Thespring gushed out from the side of a hill, and so strong was the sulphurthat the stones, over which the spring, and the stream resulting fromit, flowed were a yellowish white.
"Whew!" exclaimed Fenn again. "This ought to be good for whatever ailsyou, but I don't like it."
He remained looking at the spring for a few minutes, and, as he wasabout to move away he was startled by a deep, booming sound in thewoods, off to his left. Fenn started.
"Blasting?" he exclaimed aloud, in a questioning tone. "No, it can't bethat, either," he added. "They wouldn't be blasting around here!"
The next moment he heard a pattering around him, and several largeglobules of mud came down, seemingly from the sky. Some struck on hishands, and others dotted the white snow about him.
"That's queer," murmured the lad. "It's raining mud--or else--" hepaused a moment, as the remembrance of the booming sound returned tohim. "No," he added, "there must be a spouting, boiling spring aroundhere. That's what it is! I'm on the track of it now."
Fenn dashed off to the left, through the forest. He was eager to seewhat had caused the curious shower of mud. In a few minutes he came toa little c
learing in the woods--a clearing remarkable, among otherthings, from the fact that the ground there was devoid of snow. Therewas a warm, damp look about it, too, as when, in a snow storm, thesidewalk over a bakery oven is devoid of the white flakes.
But that was not the most curious thing that met Fenn's eyes. He madeout numerous mud turtles crawling about over the patch of ground thatwas free from snow. There must have been a score of the reptiles.
Then, as Fenn looked, a curious thing happened. He had just noted that,in the centre of the clearing, there was a large patch of water, and, amoment later the middle of this spring seemed to lift itself bodily up.Up and up the water spouted, and in an instant its comparative puritywas changed to a deep mud color, as a miniature geyser of earth andliquid shot upward.
"A mud volcano!" exclaimed Fenn, as he understood what the phenomenonwas. "A mud volcano! This explains the mystery of the turtles!"
An instant later he was under a shower of mud from the boiling spring.