“No danger of anybody breaking in,” Frank declared. “Up here in the Maine woods there’s a queer sort of law among the natives. They are honest as the day in that way. Nobody ever thinks of locking his door at night.”

“Small game seems to be plenty enough,” Bluff went on to say. “But where are all the deer they’ve been telling us about? I’d like to run across something worth taking a crack at with my pump-gun.”

“Then there’s your chance, Bluff!” suddenly remarked Will. “Why, it looks for all the world like a gray wolf to me!”

“It must be a wolf, because Mr. Darrel said they sometimes come down here from over the Canadian border!” exclaimed Jerry.

“I’ll wolf him with that buckshot charge I’ve got ready for a deer!” muttered Bluff fiercely, as he dropped his pack and started to bring his repeating shotgun up to his shoulder.

“Hold on!” cried Frank, pulling the weapon hastily down. “Look again, Bluff, and you’ll see that’s no wolf, but a dingy dog. Yes, and we’ve seen that dog before, too!”

CHAPTER VI – THE LONE CABIN

“Here’s trouble ahead!” declared Jerry, in evident disgust; “because sure enough that’s certainly the ugly beast we saw on the train.”

“Bill Nackerson’s dog!” exclaimed Will.

Bluff was still staring. He seemed half-inclined to doubt his eyesight. Just then the dingy-looking animal gave a series of snappy barks; after which expression of defiance to the boys he turned and scampered away at a rapid pace.

“For three cents I’d knock him over,” muttered Bluff angrily.

“It would be silly for you to try it, Bluff,” Frank told him, “and only give the dog’s owner a good reason for taking the law in his own hands.”

“But, just think of it, that crowd must have got off at the next station, Frank!” declared Bluff.

“Well, they had a right to, if they felt like it, I suppose,” he was told. “Since when did the railroad company give us charge over the trains up here in Maine, that we could object to anybody leaving the cars? We did that when we felt like it.”

“Yes, but we’re going to have that bunch around here, and they’ll be our rivals in the hunting,” Bluff continued vigorously.

“If half they tell us is true,” laughed Frank, determined not to cross rivers before he came to them, “there’ll be plenty of game here for us all.”

“But when that Nackerson knows we’re here he’ll just as like as not try to make things uncomfortable for us,” Jerry broke in, showing that he felt the same way Bluff did.

“Oh! let’s hope not,” murmured Will, whose motto was peace.

“If they bother us too much we can let Mr. Darrel know about it,” Frank went on calmly.

“That’s so,” Will burst out, “and I tell you if a bunch of those husky lumberjacks got busy, they’d chase Nackerson and his cronies out of the Big Woods in a hurry, believe me!”

At the same time, while Frank tried to make light of the impending trouble, deep down in his heart he feared they were to find the Nackerson set of sporting men unpleasant neighbors.

“The only bother it can make us that I can see,” Frank told the others, “is that we’ll have to do all our roaming around in couples. There must be no solitary jaunts. With two to handle they would hesitate to attempt anything serious. Remember that always, will you, boys?”

“It’s just as well,” remarked Will, “and whoever stays in camp with me can help with my photograph work. I’m in earnest about succeeding in my particular branch on this trip; and p’raps you’d like to know the reason why.”

“We certainly would,” Frank told him; “I’ve had an idea that you were keeping something back all this while; so out with it.”

Will chuckled, and took some papers from his pocket.

“That’s a folder issued by one of the big Maine railroads,” he explained. “You see, I happened to read in a paper that they had offered some pretty nice cash prizes for the best photographs taken this season that would show what woods life up here stood for. The offer holds good up to New Year’s Day.”

“And you mean to enter – to try for the money?” demanded Bluff.

“That’s what I expect to,” was the reply. “I’ve complied with all the conditions they impose, and if I’m lucky enough to get some first-class views while in the Big Woods, I mean to submit them in competition. It may be keen, and I’ll stand little show, but nothing venture nothing win.”

Bluff knew what splendid work Will had been doing in the line of sport he had taken as his especial hobby.

“Now, excuse me for differing with you there,” he said, “but I’d like to say right here that if you go in for those prizes they’re sure to drop into your hand like ripe plums. You know how to get results better’n any amateur photographer I ever ran across.”

They were once more pushing forward while discussing this latest matter. For the time being every one seemed to have quite forgotten the unpleasant feeling conjured up by the sudden appearance of the dog.

It was near the middle of the day when, after following the stream in its meanderings for quite two miles, Frank pointed out to them the object of their search.

“There’s the little cabin, sure enough,” said Bluff, his voice full of pleasure, “and let me tell you it looks all that Mr. Darrel cracked it up to be.”

“For my part I think we ought to be as comfortable as four bugs in a rug in such a cozy hut,” Will told them, happy in the thought that he could now drop that heavy pack, and before long start to taking some of the beautiful scenes of the snowy woods.

There was only an inch or so of the white covering on the ground, but it gave the landscape a wintry appearance. They had really had more of a fall in their far distant home town, Frank remembered, thinking of the snowball battle, and the broken window.

A few minutes later they were inside the cabin. Every boy expressed himself as delighted with the prospects. There was a huge fireplace, and just four bunks ranged around the interior, with a rude table, and a number of home-made rustic chairs.

It did not take them long to begin to make things seem homelike, once they had their packs open. The cheery sound of the ax at work told that a fire would soon add to the charm of that interior. Then would follow the delightful odors of cooking, with each boy taking his turn.

By the time the afternoon was well along they had managed to stow everything in the place where it was intended to be found. Their well-beloved blankets, that had accompanied them on numerous outings, were settled each in the particular bunk its owner had chosen.

“Now that I’ve hung our cooking things up on these nails alongside the fireplace there’s a cheery look about the place I like,” Will announced, with considerable pride in his voice.

“And that pile of firewood outside the door, cut by all of us in turn, stands for solid comfort in my eyes,” Jerry remarked, as he ruefully surveyed the first row of blisters on palms unused to such hard work.

“With plenty of game to be had,” announced Bluff, patting his favorite gun, “we ought to be as happy as the day is long – only for that tough crowd being somewhere close by.”

“Frank,” remarked Will, “have you any idea how far away they are camping?”

“Well, that would be a hard question to answer,” replied the other, smiling, “only for the fact that our friend, Mr. Darrel, happened to mention a little thing I expect might have a bearing on what you want to know.”

“But he couldn’t know anything about that Nackerson crowd?” objected Jerry.

“I don’t suppose he did,” Frank informed him, “but in telling me how to get over to his little lodge he mentioned another log cabin that lay in the woods on the way here. He said it was an old one that some trappers had used long ago. The roof was bad, but might be repaired. Sometimes hunters stopped there a night or two when passing through.”

“Then that must be where those men are putting up,” said Will. “Let’s hope two nights will be their limit, and that none of us run across them when off in the big timber.”

“Forget about such an unpleasant subject,” advised Frank. “Everything looks bright and promising around us, so what’s the use bothering with trouble that may never happen?”

He changed the subject, and soon the others had apparently forgotten all about the near presence of Bill Nackerson and his evil companions.

Supper that evening was a meal not soon to be forgotten. The boys all had a hand in its preparation. Soon they meant to adopt a system that would give each one his regular turn at this important duty.

And then afterward, how jolly it was to make themselves comfortable before a roaring fire, and talk of home, or the many interesting things that had happened to them on past outings.

Later on all were snuggled down under their blankets in their bunks. The fire burned low, and would perhaps go out entirely before dawn came.

The last thing Bluff remembered hearing was the far-off hooting of some owl that braved the winter’s cold. It seemed to soothe him, for, listening, and occasionally hearing the cheery cackle of the fire, Bluff lost himself in sleep.

CHAPTER VII – OUT FOR GAME

They had a peaceful night, with one exception. Along in the small hours Bluff was heard to give a sudden wild whoop:

“Get out, you cowardly beast!” he cried at the top of his voice. Of course there was considerable excitement.

Frank had been wise enough to bring a little vest-pocket type of electric torch with him, knowing how valuable such a contrivance may be at times. He instantly switched on the light; and, as he picked up his gun with one hand, he managed to turn the white glow upon the bunk occupied by Bluff.

The latter had apparently subsided, for no more shouts rang out. Frank discovered him lying there rubbing his eyes. He looked as though hardly knowing whether to burst out laughing or appear ashamed of having startled the others so.

“What’s all this row mean, Bluff?” demanded Frank sternly.

“Shucks! I guess I must have been dreaming, that’s all,” he was told.

“What nipped you? Because you acted as if it hurt,” Jerry asked.

“Why, you see,” explained Bluff, “I had come across that big Bill Nackerson, while roamin’ through the woods, and he managed to sneak my gun away when I wasn’t looking. Then what did he do but sic that mangy cur of his on me. I was kickin’ like everything at him. See how I sent my blanket out on the floor. All I wanted was one sound smack at his ugly jaws. I’m sorry I woke up so soon, because next time I’d have fetched him.”

“Well, go to sleep again, and let’s hope you dream of other things besides scrapping,” advised Jerry, as he proceeded to once more deposit his gun in a corner, and crawl under his blanket.

Bluff must have taken the advice to heart; at any rate his voice was not heard again until Frank pounded on the frying-pan to let the sleepers know it was time to creep out. Then each one in turn wanted to learn whether breakfast was ready.

As they ate they began to lay out plans for the day.

“Of course Bluff and Frank must try to get us some venison,” Will said; “and that’ll leave Jerry to assist me in camp. Besides, I want to find places to fix up my flashlight for the next night. If I can get a picture of some animal, taken by himself, it’ll please me a heap. What you know about the habits of these little creatures will help me out lots, Jerry.”

“I may be able to give a little advice, too, Will,” the latter remarked, as he helped himself to another flapjack; “because, you know, I went out with that gentleman who was stopping at our house late this fall. He had the flashlight habit about as bad as any one I’ve ever met.”

“Oh! you did mention it to me once, I remember,” said the other, evidently much pleased. “Then you may have picked up a few little wrinkles that will help me out in my game.”

“Leave that to me,” replied Jerry, swelling with importance. “I can put you wise to heaps of things. You see, I like to ask questions, and Mr. Mallon always gave me the straight answer.”

Breakfast was now about over, and the proposed hunt came next in order.

Frank never went off without making sure of a number of small but very important things. First of all he carried a compass. Next he made certain that he had an abundance of matches. After that ammunition was taken care of, and last of all enough food for a “snack.”

Frank was also a great hand for arranging a code of signals with his chums. This was an easy thing to do, because they had gone together so long now that they had a regular system that could be used as a means of conferring with one another, even when a considerable distance apart.

“Will’s mentioning that he wished we’d thought to fetch some syrup or honey along to go with the flapjacks,” Frank was saying, just before they broke away from camp, “makes me think that there are plenty of wild bees up here in Maine. Men hunt for their tree hives every season, and often find stacks of good honey, too.”

“Then, for goodness’ sake, fellows,” exclaimed Will, “please keep an eye out for any sign of a hive. Nothing would please me better than to have a pail of honey on hand. I’d just like to fill myself up with it, for once.”

“It’s a poor time of year to find a bee tree,” said Frank. “They usually look for a hive in summer, when the bees are flying and can be traced. Often the storehouse is away up at the top of a high tree. The weather is so cold now there wouldn’t be any young bees airing themselves in the sun.”

“Well, you never know,” ventured Jerry; “and, as you saunter along, just watch out for the signs. I understand bears often raid a hive. You might find empty combs lying on the ground under some tree.”

“Make up your mind we’ll not forget to keep an eye out,” Frank assured the camp guardians. “That reminds me, I promised to tell you a lot of interesting things about this country up here. I’ll do it to-night, if you mention it to me after supper.”

“I’ll remind you, sure thing,” returned Bluff eagerly, “because I understand that a whole army of people make some sort of a living out of the Maine woods, and I’ve always wanted to know how they could do it. Take my gun away, and I’d like as not starve to death here inside of a week.”

“All because you haven’t been brought up in Maine,” Frank told him, “and are as good as blind to the wonderful opportunities all around you. But, if you’re ready, Bluff, let’s be starting off.”

“Good luck to you!” cried Will, who was already engaged with his camera.

Bluff was soon tagging along at the heels of Frank, though occasionally he took a notion to push to the front. This was when he fancied that a particular patch of undergrowth looked promising.

Being in a humor to gather in a few of the numerous plump partridges that they knew were to be found in the timber, Bluff had his pump-gun loaded with shells containing moderate loads of powder and small shot. He thought that, with Frank at his side carrying a repeating rifle, there was no need of both being on the lookout for big game.

They walked on, apparently in an aimless fashion, but Frank knew just where he was going. One of his objects had been to avoid heading in the quarter where he had reason to believe that deserted trapper’s cabin was located, near the edge of the muskrat marsh. If, as they feared, it was now occupied by Bill Nackerson and his crew, Frank wanted to keep as far away from the place as he could.

Suddenly there came a humming sound, that caused Bluff to throw up his gun. With a quick discharge a flutter of feathers announced that he had made a hit.

“That’s a good start, Bluff,” Frank told him; “you got your bird, all right; but, hold on – don’t think of rushing over there. There were two others, and perhaps you don’t know a queer way partridges have of lighting on the lower limbs of trees after being flushed.”

“Say, that’s a fact, you did tell me that once, but I’d forgotten it,” Bluff candidly admitted. “And they use a dog to scare the birds up. That was what Nackerson had trained his cur to do, wasn’t it?”

“They bark and run about under the tree after the birds have taken to the limbs,” Frank continued; “and so the hunter can walk up close to pick his shot. It’s easy work, and when the partridges are thick up here no one need go hungry.”

“Well, all I’ve ever shot went off like a hurricane; and often I’ve had to let fly with my gun part way up to my shoulder. Do you see either of the others, Frank?”

“Yes, and, as luck will have it, they’ve lighted in such a way that they’re both in range. I believe you could drop two birds with one shot, Bluff.”

“I see ’em now,” muttered Bluff. “Watch my smoke.”

When he fired again both birds fell. Bluff looked as though half-ashamed of such easy work.

“Three already, eh? Nearly a chicken apiece, all around. Well, I might limit myself to just one more, and then call my part of the business off for to-day.”

He loaded himself down with the partridges, though Frank offered to carry one or more for him.

“You’ll need both hands for quick work, if we should happen to start a deer a little later on,” Bluff replied, giving Frank a cheery smile.

“Listen, there goes a gun!” said Frank, soon afterward.

“There’s another – yes, and a whole raft of them!” cried Bluff. “Of course it’s that crowd of Nackerson’s. I’m glad they’re pretty far away from here.”

“Yes, and we’ll make a detour, so as not to get any closer to them,” Frank said, as he changed their course.

“I hope this new ground will give us better luck,” Bluff went on.

They continued to push on until half a mile had been traversed.

It happened that Bluff was a little in advance of his chum, when, without the least warning, there was a sudden crash in the thicket. Then he saw something dun-colored spring away.

“Oh! Frank! look, there he goes skipping out; and it’s a three-pronged buck, at that!” he shouted.

Then, realizing that he might be interfering with the other’s aim, being in line with the fleeing deer, Bluff dropped flat to the ground.

CHAPTER VIII – FUR AND FEATHERS

Crack!

That was Frank’s rifle, as Bluff well knew.

“Hurrah; he’s down, Frank; you got him that time! No, there he’s on his feet again, as sure as anything. Oh, why didn’t I have buckshot shells in my gun? There! That time you did drop him for keeps! Bully! bully! bully!”

Bluff immediately got upon his feet, and, as well as his burden would admit, started to run toward the spot were he had last seen the buck go down.

Frank was following close at his heels, calling to him to go slow, because it sometimes happened that a wounded buck proved himself a dangerous antagonist.

It turned out, however, that there was nothing to fear. The deer was dead when they arrived beside him.

“See, here’s where your first bullet struck him, Frank – just back of the shoulder. He must have been swerving when you fired that shot Would that have killed him, even if you didn’t fire again?”

“In time it would,” the other assured him, “though I’ve known deer to run miles before dropping, after being hit in the body. That was a poor shot for me.”

“But, when a buck is humping himself to get away, it strikes me a fellow is doing pretty well to be able to hit him at all,” Bluff remarked.

“I’m not proud of it, I can tell you. I had a fair chance, too,” Frank continued. “The second shot was better, and finished him at once. Well, here’s your venison, Bluff. What are you going to do with it now?”

“He’s a whole lot bigger than any of the little deer we shot down in Florida, that’s sure,” Bluff observed, “and, as we must be some miles away from camp, excuse me from helping to lug him there. Suppose we cut up the carcass, Frank? You’re a clever hand at that sort of work. We could make up a pack of the best parts; and hang up some more so it’d be out of the reach of foxes and skunks, and the like.”

“Yes, and pick it up to-morrow, or another day, when perhaps luck fails us,” ventured the leader, as though the idea appealed to him. “I think that is the best plan, Bluff, so here goes.”

Accordingly he set aside his gun, after replacing the two spent cartridges so as to always have the full set of six in magazine and chamber. After that he got busy with his hunting knife.

Bluff hovered around, ready to assist when asked. Frank knew considerable about such things, for he proved very deft with his sharp blade.

The buck’s head was hung from a tree, high enough to keep any animal from reaching it.

“Of course,” Frank explained, after they had managed to do this, “if a hungry bobcat came along we couldn’t hope to prevent it from getting there; and a Canada lynx would think nothing of making a spring twice that high. But what we want most of all are the antlers; and this will save them for us.”

He also made one package of meat to take home, and another that they hung from a limb the same way the buck’s head had been.

“Now, are we ready to start for home?” asked Bluff, when all these things had been looked after.

“Yes, because we’ve gone far enough for one thing,” replied Frank; “and then, besides, we have all the game we need for the present.”

“Three birds is a poor number for our crowd,” the other protested. “Either somebody has to go without, or else they must be divided up.”

“Well, keep on the watch, and perhaps you may get a crack at another on the way back to camp,” Frank advised him.

“Guess I will, and thank you for telling me, Frank. It was hardly fair, though, for you to make all that venison up in just one pack. Why didn’t you fix it so I could tote some on my back?”

“I figured that three fat partridges would be about as much as any fellow cared to carry; and, if you should bag another, that’d make it complete. So forget it, and be on the watch.”

That was Frank’s way, and Bluff knew it was no use trying to make him change his plans. There was not a selfish bone in Frank Langdon’s body – even his worst enemy would admit that much.

Before ten minutes had passed the chance came whereby Bluff was enabled to fill out his assortment of partridges, so that every camper could have one.

“That was a fine shot, Bluff!” Frank told him, when he had seen how the spinning bird dropped like a stone the instant the gun was discharged.

“That’s nice of you to say, Frank; sometimes I do manage to get where I aim.”

They had to rest several times while on the way home. Finally the cabin near the bank of the partly frozen creek was reached. Jerry spied them coming, and at once set up a yell.

“Come out here, Will; hurry up!”

Immediately the other came flying into view. He carried his camera in his hand, and there was a startled expression on his face.

“It isn’t fair to give a fellow a scare like that, Jerry,” he said reproachfully. “I certainly thought a bear had you up a tree, and I hoped to get the picture. It would have been the prize of my collection, too. Now it turns out that it’s only Frank and Bluff coming home from their hunt.”

“Well, that ought to make a good scene for a picture, oughtn’t it?” Jerry demanded. “See what they’ve got with them, will you? A big pack that contains venison, I know, because that’s a deer-skin it’s wrapped in. And see Bluff fairly staggering under his load of game. Boys, we’re proud of you.”

“Now we can begin to live like real hunters,” Will remarked, after he had clicked his camera deftly, getting the proper light on the returned chums. “With partridge and venison hung up we’ll be in clover. All I’d like to see now would be a haunch of bear meat alongside.”

Of course they must have plenty of the fruits of the hunt for supper that night. The birds were immediately prepared and baked in an oven that Frank showed them how to make, using a hole dug in the ground.

“This way of baking game is an old hunter’s trick,” said Frank, while he was excavating the oven, “and has been known among Indians and others for nobody can tell how long. You see, it might be called the origin of the up-to-date ‘fireless cookers.’ It is made very hot, and then the food sealed in it so that the heat gradually does the business.”

The others knew something about the method, although they had possibly never been in a position to see the thing in operation. Frank burned a special kind of hard wood in his oven until he had a bed of glowing ashes. These he took out, and then the four partridges, plucked and ready for eating, were wrapped in some clean muslin Frank produced from his pack, and which had been previously dampened.

After that the oven was sealed up the best way they could. As the frost had not as yet penetrated more than an inch below the surface of the ground, digging had not been found unduly difficult, using a camp hatchet to hew the crust.

Hours later, when the oven was opened, it still retained an astonishing amount of the heat that had been sealed up in it. The birds they found cooked through and through.

“The very best way of preparing partridges that can be found, I think,” was the comment of Will, who had read several cook-books at home and had a jumble of their contents in his mind.

“It certainly has made these birds mighty tender and sweet,” confessed Jerry, as he pulled his prize apart with hardly any effort.

“Things cooked in this way are always made tender,” Frank told them. “A tough steak made ready for the table in a fireless cooker will be as nice as the most costly porterhouse is when broiled or fried. The only thing I object to is that it never seems to have that nice brown look, and the taste that I like most of all. It’s more after the style of a stew to me.”

As the four partridges were only skimpy “racks” when the boys tossed them aside, it can be readily inferred that all the campers enjoyed the feast abundantly. Indeed, they even had some of the venison as a side dish; this was cooked in the frying-pan after the usual manner.

“Might as well have enough game while about it,” Bluff remarked. “And let me say right here and now that this sort of thing tastes a heap finer when you’ve had the privilege of knocking over the game yourself; or it’s been done by the party you’re with.”

When finally they had eaten until no one could contain another bite, the boys, as was their habit, drew around the crackling fire, and started discussing their affairs, as well as other matters that came up.

Frank had warned Bluff that it might be just as well if they kept still about the series of shots they had heard, accompanied by faint shouts that might have stood for either triumph or excitement.

To his chagrin Jerry himself introduced the topic.

“While you were gone, fellows,” he went on to remark, “Will and I were prowling around near here to find a good place to set his flashlight trap camera to-night, when we heard a regular row some distance over there. Must have been as many as five or six shots in rapid succession, and some hollering, too.”

As the cat was now out of the bag, Frank felt there was no need of keeping secret the fact that they, too, had heard the series of shots.

“Yes, we caught it just after we’d got our partridges, and before we raised the buck,” he confessed; “I didn’t mean to say anything about it, because there seemed no need; but since you’re wise to the fact we can talk about it.”

“It must have been that Nackerson crowd, don’t you think?” asked Will.

“There can be no question about that,” Frank replied.

“They started a deer, and were peppering away at him in great shape, of course?” suggested Jerry.

“That sounds like the explanation,” he was told; “but then the same shooting would have followed the discovery of a lynx, or perhaps a black bear in a tree. All we can be sure about is that we want to fight shy of that country over there. We can hunt a different field; and I’m in hopes that by doing so we’ll miss running across those men all the time we’re up here.”

“Now, Frank, you remember you told us to remind you of something?” Jerry remarked when the conversation flagged.

“You mean about this wonderful woods country up in the State of Maine,” Frank went on, smiling as though the task he had been called on to shoulder pleased him, since he was a native of the State, and loved it dearly.

“Yes; something about the strange ways you said there were for men to make a living in the woods,” Bluff added.