Chums of the prairie

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The Lone Dugout . . . .

Paradise Camp ....

The Bear Den in the Coulee ,

Chapter I. The Eone Dugout

Two boats, pla/in, roomy dugouts, well loaded with a winter’s outfit, were pushing slowly against the current of a stream deep in the heart of the mysterious Big Horn range of mountains, as the shadows of coming night began to lend a weird aspect to the heavy pine timber covering the banks.

The pilot-boat contained but one figure, a man long past the meridian of life, yet whose arms plied the paddle or setting pole with a vigor that age had not diminished.

Two sturdy lads occupied the second craft, none other than our young friends of Sunset Ranxrh, Cowiboy Karl and his chum, Cutbbert Lee.

Since early dawn they had pushed up this same serpentine creek, cheered by the intelligence from their guide and mentor. Old Sile, that the long and wearisome v'oyage would reach its conclusion about sundown.

Worn out with their exertions, they had long since lapsed into silence, so that beyond an occasional grunt from the guide there was no sound to be heard save the swish of paddles or the gurgle of the clear, cold water against the proiw of each boat.

Old Sile was eagerly scanning his surroundings as seen in the gloaming.

The Lone Dugout.

Some years had passed since last he spent a winter in the wilderness, and more or less changes bad taken place during that time; 'but his keen eye recognized many familiar objects that undoubtedly aroused vivid memories of adventures in the past.

When finally he uttered an exclamation of intense satisfaction, and turned shoreward, no urging with cowboy quirt or hackamore was needed to induce the boys to speedily follow his example.

So the two boats grounded, their occupants sprang out, and the bo'ws were drawn snugly up on a little pebbly beach that seemed especially designed by nature for a landing.

“Alabama — here we rest !” sang out the Virginia lad, joyfully.

He seized Karl around the body, and both boys indulged in a genuine grotesque Indian dance, such as they had witnessed many a time in the villages of the Crows and Sioux.

Old Sile was feeling rather stiff himself after so many hours of cramped work in the boat, and could easily pardon this rollicking, boyish spirit, especially since it was indulged in with the idea of relaxing their muscles ; but he busied himself with the more profitable task of unloading some of the boat stores.

Karl, always quick to take a hand, was speedily helping, while Cuthbert, to whom clung some of the Southern habits, chose first to glance around, filled with eager curiosity concerning this home in the vast wilds to which Old Sile had led themi, and which was to be their stamping ground for long months. From the sombre depth of the timber came the tremulous cry of the screech owl, sounding very familiar to Cuthbert and bringing to his mind the grand forests of his dearly beloved Virginia, where he had tramped, gun or rod in hand, many a time in search of fin, fur or feather.

There was no sign of any shack or cabin in this primeval wilderness, but Cuthbert did not wonder at such absence, for he was well aware that so old and cautious a campaigner as Sile would never build his habitation in the open, where it might be seen by every hostile Indian who chanced to pass up or down the creek.

Somewhere in that thick tangle he had a secluded den, but in spite of numerous questions, he had kept the boys quite in the dark concerning its character. In consequence they had the liveliest curiosity imaginable with regard to the structure which was to be their home while the frost king held dominion over mountain, valley and plain.

Just now, however, they were so tired that both would gladly have camped on the spot.

And the veteran knew they would not take the interest they should in what he had in store unless first refreshed by supper.

Accordingly, he gave Karl the signal to start a little blaze, over which the coffee-pot was soon merrily singing, while the appetizing odor of bacon tantalized the hungry trio almost to the point of desperation.

When Karl sounded the tocsin by rapping on a tin kettle the others lined up, finding seats on a convenient log.

There is no appetizer like fatigue and fresh air, and ceremony being thrown to the winds, each one made away with the food with ridiculous haste, eager to appease the demands of nature.

The fire crackled and snapped, the creek, as yet free from ice, gurgled on its way toward the Big Horn, and from the woods came various noises of the night ; but the three pilgrims who had penetrated this wilderness ven-

The Lone Dugout.

tured not a word in the line of conversation until they had, by industrious work, taken the edge off their appetite.

By degrees, however, their jaws wearied of the fray, and one remark broke the ice, so that presently they were chatting on various topics connected in some way with their crusade.

The boys found their curiosity reawakened with regard to the hermitage of which their old friend and guide had so frequently spoken, and declaring that their weariness of body had quite departed, they demanded that he satisfy their desire to set eyes on the same without any more delay.

In truth the veteran was secretly anticipating some such move on their part, and had laid his plans accordingly. He felt an intense desire to ascertain whether the old nest that had sheltered him several winters past still defied the elements, for though uncouth in many of his ways and blunt of speech, Old Sile could cherish deep down in his heart a sincere affection for a snug nest which had served him faithfully as a home during one or more winters.

Education and culture are not at all necessary elements in awakening such a feeling in the heart of man — indeed, more often they serve as obstacles, blunting nature’s tributes.

Supper being over, the old ranger lighted his pipe and then announced himself ready to lead the way to the spot where his former quarters had been located.

“It ain’t fur off — jest ’longside the hill yonder,” he declared, encouragingly, designating the particular spot with a wave of his hand, though the boys could not see any sign of an elevation in the darkness by which the lone camp was surrounded.

The Lone Dugout. II

Old Sile picked up a blazing fagot which would serve fairly well as* a torch.

“Not without yer guns, boys ; never go anywhere without weepons. Foller that plan an’ it’ll keep ye out of much trouble, p’raps save yer thatch some day,” the old sage drawled impressively, with an earnestness born of long experience.

Karl should have known better — Karl, who had spent most of his life on the range and encountered the vicissitudes of fortune such as fall to a cowboy’s lot.

He picked up his gun rather sheepily, for it was his secret ambition to stand well in the opinion of the veteran.

Leaving the campfire sparkling in the rear. Old Sile led the boys up through the dense forest growth.

How grotesque the tall trees looked in the weird light of that waving torch !

More than once Cuthbert was positive he could detect curious eyes fixed upon them, belonging to some of the woods folk ; but whatever animals these were, they slunk away before the torchlight betrayed their identity.

Old Sile was pleased to see such evidence that the adjacent timber had again been peopled by those animals driven away by the presence of man, when he and his trapping pard last wintered in this locality.

Thicker grew the forest, until it was only with some difficulty they pushed their way through the creepers and underbrush.

“Look!” he said, with a strange, husky tremor in his voice, “thar she is, lads, just as me and poor Bob Ruggles left her three years ago.”

They strained their eyes and discovered a rude log house that seemed to be built against the face of the hill — overgrown with creepers, and half hidden by fallen leaves and dead branches, so that one might have passed within ten feet of the door without suspecting its presence.

“Why, it’s a regular dugout,” said Karl, who had more than once lived in such a place.

Old Sile chuckled. It did him good to again set eyes on this lone habitation.

“That’s what it is, my boy, all of it, and as cozy a den as ye were ever in. Many’s the night Bob and me sat in yonder as snug as two bugs in a rug, while the wild norther tore through the mountains and screeched like a army o’ demons let loose. Let’s go inside and see if she’s dry as ever.”

Another moment and he was at the door, which was discovered to be loose, one of the deerskin hinges having parted.

Just as Old Sile put his hand out and drew the wrecked door further ajar, there was a sudden flurry inside the structure, a wild screech, and then a heavy body, with glaring eyes, came springing through space.

The veteran might be taken by surprise, but his presence of mind never deserted him, so when he saw this fearful shape coming through space directly at him, he struck out with the blazing torch and landed a center shot.

“Fair ball!” cried Cuthbert, as he saw the uncanny creature knocked clear back into the cabin by the force of the sudden and violent concussion.

Karl, always quick to act, had pushed forward under Old Sile’s arm, his gun thrust out and a nervous finger on the trigger.

“Steady, lad; atween, the eyes, now,” cautioned the veteran, coolly.

The wildcat had landed on the floor and was crouching for another spring when Karl’s rifle spoke.

That ended the trouble. A few kicks, together with most fearful growls, and the savage brute yielded up the ghost.

Cautiously our friends entered, but there seemed to be no further danger — the wicked beast lay stretched upon the floor, incapable of creating damage, since Karl had fortunately shot to kill.

“I like that; it speaks well for what is in store for us,” declared Cuthbert, stooping to examine the defunct animal.

“What I calls a warm reception like. The critter’s evidently been makin’ hisself to home here. Reminds me o’ the time a bar climbed through the windy yonder, and when Bob walked in thar was ole Bruin settin’ on the floor gobbling up a bucket o’ wild honey we’d got out o’ a bee tree.

“They was some hot times around here just then. I’ll tell ye ; and Bob had an argyment with mister bear that lasted nigh on half an hour. When I kim along thar he was a sittin’ on the ole thief, covered from head to foot with blood and honey. Such a job as it was to clean up after that ere Irish wake,” and the old fellow chuckled, as in imagination he again saw the ludicrous spectacle.

“See here, this is the queerest bobcat I’ve ever run across!' Seems to have tassels on his ears, I declare,” announced Cuthbert.

At this Old Sile condescended to examine his fallen enemy a little closer.

“Wall, I declar to Moses, if it just ain’t one o’ them air miserable Canada lynx chaps, the fust I ever see ’round these parts. P’raps it was jest as well yer lead clipped his heart, Karl, for they do say these here fancy cats beat all creation in a scrimmage, and if given half a chance I reckon he’d a done some tall scratchin’ among us fellers. I’m just as pleased to see him stretched out.”

“And here’s our first pelt. We’re beginning early,” declared Cuthbert.

The boys now remembered their curiosity concerning the shelter that was to be their home for five long winter months, so leaving the dead cat where it had kicked its last, they set about a little tour of discovery.

Dugouts may vary in size or elegance, but they are invariably of one pattern — a cave in the face of a hillside, with some sort of a log cabin built in front. A lowly habitation, no doubt, but extraordinarily cool in summer and warm in winter, as those who have ever spent much time in such a rude shelter will positively affirm.

Usually the fireplace is in the back part of the underground section, the smoke escaping through a rough chimney fashioned out of sod.

Old Sile had found the stump of a tree above, which served admirably as a funnel, or chimney, though there was always more or less risk of its taking fire at some time when the occupants of the lowly home beneath raised a hotter blaze than ordinarily.

The place was in fair condition considering that several seasons had passed since last it had human occupants.

A couple of bunks had been built in the inner sanctuary, with good stout pine as the basis, and there was quite sufficient room for a third of the same character.

Besides, there was a rude but serviceable table, rustic and comfortable chairs, some shelves, a very elaborate cupboard and other evidences of genuine luxury, proving that the two trappers, finding that time hung heavy on their hands during furious blizzards, had resorted to this means of occupying their minds rather than be idle.

A few fairly-serviceable cooking utensils still hung where they had been abandoned, while upon the wall antlers of a big elk, together with some other mementoes of the chase, gave this dugout the air of a hunters’ camp.

Karl was well pleased, while Cuthbert fairly bubbled over with enthusiasm.

This was what he had dreamed of while roving the Virginia woods in search of small game — a cot in some vast wilderness, far away from the haunts of men, where with congenial friends he might spend happy days in the pursuit of game.

That time had come, and Cuthbert felt as though life could have no dearer wish.

Old Sile was happy, too. He looked fondly on these familiar things that aroused pleasant memories of the past, and then his wrinkled face took on a solemn look as he suddenly bethought him of that jovial partner, whose voice he would hear no more.

“This is just splendid,” declared Cuthbert.

“Yes, with these leaves swept out and some cleaning done, we’ll be ready to go to housekeeping right away,” said Karl.

“I’m right glad you like it, boys. It can’t be beat fur comfort when snow flies. All ye want is a good stock o’ wood for the fire and ye kin larf at any storm. Now, shall we hustle the duffle up hyar now or wait till momin’ ?”

Karl looked at Cuthbert.

Then both laughed.

“To tell the truth. I’m a little sore in the arms after such a day of paddling and poling,” admitted the former.

“And though you did the lion’s share of it, Karl, I’m pretty nearly dead. I vote we camp by the fire and move to-morrow,” said the Virginia lad, candidly.

“Second the motion,” put in Old Sile, who knew the condition of his protegees, and considered it a sensible thing to do.

i6 The Lone Dugout.

So they hung up Mr. Bobcat outside, pushed the loose door to, and made their way back to where the little fire still burned cheerily.

It was easier work, now that a passage had been forced through the tangled undergrowth, and Karl knew all this would speedily be set to rights when the old ranger got down to business, for he was a hustler at such things, and would never put up with untidy surroundings.

For the last time the tent was raised and arrangements made for passing the night.

Old Sile seemed to be thoroughly aroused by this revisit to old scenes, and as he calmly puffed away, crouched there before the cheery blaze, he related experiences that very naturally thrilled the tw'o lads, since they were now in the vicinity where these occurrences had taken place, and in a fair way to meeting with just such adventures before the breaking up of winter came.

Cuthbert’s ears were on the alert all the time. Those strange sounds from the dense pine forests interested him intensely. Later on the silence of death would come upon this region, when the grip of the ice king had sealed the creek, and two feet or more of snow covered the face of the earth, but while the denizens of the woods kept up their nightly serenade, it was bound to be sweet music in bis ears.

The last sound he remembered hearing ere sinking into sleep, was the merry gurgle of the stream as it flowed past the submerged sterns of the dugouts.

Then oblivion.

Probably Cuthbert never slept more soundly in all his life, for as he had declared, he was “clean tuckered out” by the hard labor of the day. This bucking against a strong current hour after hour is no child’s play, and the sturdiest logger on Michigan rivers grows weary of it in ■ time.

Nevertheless, Cuthbert was wide awake in a twinkling when the discharge of a rifle boomed upon the night air.

Starting up to a sitting posture he discovered that it was Old Sile this time who had taken toll of the woods folk.

Something was stretched out on the ground just under the limb where they had taken the pains to hang such of their stores as might be apt to tempt the appetite of a hungry night prowler.

The old veteran was chuckling quietly to himself, as though vastly amused.

Karl had already crawled out of his snug blanket, intent upon discovering the nature of the bold intruder who had paid so dearly for his rashness.

“It’s a wolf, and the biggest of his kind,” he announced presently.

After that Cuthbert could not have been coaxed to remain in his blanket, for ever since the time when those snapping wolves so nearly ended his young career he had experienced the most bitter feelings toward the whole class, and would go miles out of his way to knock over one of the sneaking “varmints,” as Old Sile called them collectively.

“Great Scott! what a whopper,” he exclaimed, as his eyes beheld the proportions of the great gaunt creatures and noted the cruel white fangs which the drawn back lips exposed.

Secretly Cuthbert was wishing it had been through^his instrumentality the monster had come to his doom ; but there was satisfaction in the reflection that where one of his breed was so readily found there must be plenty more, of the same stock.

Could Cuthbert have seen into the future a little way, he might not have experienced so great a yearning for i8 The Lone Dugout.

such a meeting, since he was destined to have his fill of adventures with lupine foes ere long.

“A genuine gray, mountain wolf, the boldest, fiercest and! gamest in the Northwest,” announced Old Sile, turning the gaunt beast over so that he might discover whether his lead had gone exactly where he intended it should, and the grim smile that illuminated his homely but genial face announced that he was perfectly satisfied.

The conditions seemed to promise much sport, and even the old ranger declared the country better stocked with game than he had ever known it to be, all of which gave Cuthbert a feeling of secret ecstasy.

Whether the fate of this bold pirate served as a dread*- ful warning to his predatory comrades, or whether they lacked his dash, could not be told, but at least they kept aloof during the remainder of the night, though their long-drawn, mournful howls occasionally smote the silence that had fallen upon the vicinity.

When Cuthbert awoke in the morning the scent of coffee was in the air, the fire snapped and blazed cheerily, and Old Sile was engaged in measuring the distance between the ground and the branch where he had hung the meat that had tempted mister wolf to his destiny.

“Ye see,” the veteran explained, “it was him a jumpin’ up and failin’ back that woke me. Once he fastened his teeth into the haunch o’ venison, but broke loose. That ere was a jump to be proud of. Jest look at it, my boy. And see hyar, I declar to Moses, if thar ain’t the marks o’ teeth on that rope I used to haul the things up by, jest as if the ornery critter knowed they’d tumble if he gnawed that through. Sometimes I’ve a notion them pesky wolves has got a streak o’ the Old Nick in ’em. Leastwise they seem more’n half human.”

And the more the Virginia lad saw of the mountain wolf the greater became his respect for the gray freebooter’s sagacity.

Breakfast was soon dispatched, and never had the coffee seemed more aromatic or the venison steak more tender than on this, the first morning of their arrival in the genuine heart of the wilderness. All . nature was crisp and bright around them, and Cuthbert seemed to experience an exhilaration that almost tempted him to shout aloud, just as if he were a schoolboy, and the longyearned-for last day before vacation had arrived.

CHAPTER 11.

PARADISE CAMP.

Both boys were eager to begin the work of transferring their goods to the domicile that was to shelter them during their winter campaign.

All of them loaded up and made a carry to the dugout, where Sile started in to have things cleaned up by the time his companions had “toted” the last of the traps — blankets, provisions, culinary utensils and other odds and ends — over the trail between creek and cabin.

They worked like young Trojans, knowing certain things must be done before their old guide would consent to set a trap or open up any of the secrets connected with the wilderness.

By noon a tremendous transformation had been effected in the neighborhood of the dugout, and the interior really presented an appearance of, solid comfort.

Old Sile had built another bunk for himself, while the boys arranged the stores and in many ways gave a homelike air to the place.

Indeed, they found so many things to do that dinner was postponed until night, a hasty “snack” at noon allaying the pangs of hunger without wasting precious time.

Cuthbert yearned to take a little stroll around, to discover what the immediate neighborhood was like, and Karl could read his comrade like a book, so in the generosity of his heart he started the other out to pick up some game for supper, while he and Sile cut a heap of firewood and continued the job of arranging things for their united comfort.

Karl was somewhat different from most boys of his

Paradise Camp.

age, and had an old bachelor’s ideas of looking to the eternal fitness of things, with a place for every article. On the other hand, Cuthbert had a happy faculty for tossing things pell-mell, and then depending upon his chum to assist in disentangling the snarl when an occasion arose.

So, being opposites in many regards, they got along splendidly together.

When young Lee started out he meant to go only a short distance and make a circuit around the camp. Full well he knew the danger of losing his way, since he had not as yet secured his bearings, and having been through one such experience, Cuthbert did not hanker after repeating it so early in the season.

The wintry breath could already be felt in the bracing air ; indeed, a little fringe of ice along the border of the creek at sunrise had given plain warning that the season was about to change, and at any time they might look for the first snowfall.

But at this hour of the day it was simply grand in the primeval forest, and Cuthbert felt as happy as a lord while he strolled along^ his eyes ever on the alert for signs of game.

This was a wonderful change from the life he had been leading a year or so back, scouring the plains on horseback, “milling” cattle, watching saddle horses as a “night wrangler,” branding youngsters at the grand “roundup” and experiencing all the wild distraction that marks the career of a cattleman.

Here was solitude, here the grand woods reared their lofty crests far above his head, and the whispering pines told the mysterious secrets of centuries.

And game ? That was a red fox slinking down yonder ravine; here a wolf dashed pell-mell through the scanty undergrowth, as an unintentional sneeze on the boy’s part

Paradise Camp.

gave him a sudden scare, and several times Cuthbert had fleeting glimpses of deer that had been disturbed', perhaps by the clumsiness of his approach.

He knew he was faulty as a still hunter, and needed the lessons Old Sile so cheerfully promised to give. He knew his boots were not at all equal to deerskin moccasins when it came to sneaking up on game ; but Cuthbert had seen these things done when a prisoner among the tepees of the Sioux, and believed he could acquire the hunter’s tread with but little instruction.

And yet be was far removed from being a greenhorn in the broad sense of the word, having earned the full fledged title of cowboy through working up every round of the ladder.

Thus sweeping around the camp he struck the stream again, half a mile above — at least, he took it for granted it was the same old creek they had paddled and poled up for some two whole days and more.

A small flock of late-staying ducks, apparently mallards, sported upon the water and Cuthbert wished he had the scatter gun along so that he might have sent confusion into their midst^ and secured a trio for supper.

As it was he saw them fly away with the keen chagrin your true sportsman experiences when his hand is stayed by circumstances beyond his control.

Better luck another day. They went down the creek and might yet be found near the camp. Deer and elk they expected to secure all through the cold spell, but the time for the webfoots bad almost expired, and consequently this eagerness to secure the last of their kind was only natural.

While scouting around Cuthbert discovered a place where the creek was narrow, and a very convenient swinging wild grape vine offered a splendid chance to cross.

Sling-ing his rifle to his back by means of the coii'- venient strap, he seized hold of the vine, tested it thoroughly, made a little run, jumped into the air and landed on the other bank before one could say Jack Robinson.

It was a snap, and he meant to remember the exact location of this remarkable swinging bridge for future use. Karl must also see and experience the pleasure of a flying passage — Karl, who was ever in his mind; Karl, the dearest, sturdiest, most devoted chum on earth. The spirit of true comradeship did not die out when David and Jonathan or Damon and Pythias ceased to exist, for in this prosaic latter age of ours men and boys may be found intensely devoted to each other, and ready to make even such mutual sacrifices as those ancient worthies.

On the other side of the stream the woods seemed to be even heavier than any he had as yet come across.

Cuthbert felt charmed with it all.

Why, there was a spirit of sport in the very atmosphere with which he was surrounded. A rustling here and there amid the dead leaves told that the gentle little woodsfolk were keenly alive to this foreign presence in their midst, and many curious eyes doubtless spied upon him from tangled coverts.

He tingled with pleasurable anticipations of the royal sport awaiting them during the period of their isolation in this lonely region.

Although Cuthbert had not as yet paid any particular attention to the fact, he was now favored by what little breeze the afternoon afforded, since it met him full in the face.

Suddenly he made a discovery that caused him to stand as still as a rock. Some animal was feeding in a small glade just ahead, and had thrown up its head.

Well, it was a deer, sure enough, and Cuthbert had hunted the light-footed creatures sufficiently to know that

Paradise Camp.

if he remained perfectly motionless, there was at least a fair chance of the other taking him' for a stump, and continuing its feed.

At any rate, he was determined to hazard a flying shot if the deer bounded away, as he should be capable of doing some execution with so trusty a rifle.

Then the deer went to feeding again, and Cuthbert^s heart ceased to flutter, though it soon pounded between his ribs with such keen excitement as your true hunter necessarily feels when the noble quarry is in sight.

He slowly advanced, keeping his eye on the short tail of the deer.

A dozen steps — then Cuthbert paused.

This was surely near enough. It was a pot shot after all. They needed the venison, otherwise the chivalrous lad, with his Southern instinct of fair play toward such game, would have been sorely tempted to shout aloud and take his chances at a flying target.

At any rate, his nerves did not play him false, for when he drew his gun to the horizontal it never quivered in the least.