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

CHAPTER X

A RAILROAD ACCIDENT

Jogging along the road to the depot, the four chums asked each other all sorts of questions, as to whether this or that article had been included in the camping outfit. For so much remained to be done at the last minute, in spite of preparations some time ahead, that they were afraid something would be forgotten. But, fortunately, everything necessary seemed to have been put in the packages, which had been shipped on ahead, so they would be there when the campers arrived. They were to get out at the railroad station of Cannistota, and drive ten miles into the woods.

“Say, what did you do about your mud turtles, Fenn?” asked Bart, as the sled bumped along, for the road was rough.

“Oh, I arranged with Sandy Merton to feed them. I’m going to pay him for it. He promised to look after them. I hope he doesn’t forget. Hello! there he comes now. Hello, Sandy!” called Fenn, as he saw the president of the Shamma Shig secret society plodding along through the snow.

“Hello,” responded Sandy, transferring his bundle of books from one arm to the other. “Say, but you fellows are lucky chaps! Cutting out several weeks of school, and going off hunting. I wish I was you!”

“Don’t forget my turtles,” pleaded Fenn.

“I’ll attend to ’em, Stumpy,” promised Sandy. “Bring me back a bear skin; will you?”

“If we get enough for ourselves we will,” agreed Bart, and Sandy went on to school, looking back at the chums with envious eyes, for, as has been explained, the campers left about a week before the Christmas holidays began.

“Well, maybe we’ll have a good time – I mean of course we will,” said Frank, “but, all the same, Sandy is better off than we are – in one respect.”

“How?” asked Ned.

“He isn’t under suspicion of having stolen a valuable diamond bracelet.”

“That’s right. Hang it all! I wish we could clear that thing up,” remarked Bart, with energy. “Never mind, maybe it will clear itself up before we get back.”

“Whoa!” called Jed, suddenly, pulling up his team.

“What’s the matter?” asked Ned.

“The nigh horse jest stumbled with its left fore foot,” explained the driver, as he got out of the sled.

“Hurt?” inquired Bart.

“No, but it’s a sign of bad luck, and I don’t like it, especially when you fellows are going off on a pleasure trip.”

“What are you going to do?” Frank wanted to know, for Jed was kicking away the snow in front of the horses.

“I’m looking for a black stone,” he explained. “If you can find a black stone, after a horse stumbles like that, it’s all right.”

The boys wanted to laugh at the almost childish superstition exhibited by Jed, but did not want to make him feel bad, so they managed to keep sober faces, as he kicked about in the small drifts. Finally he uttered a triumphant cry.

“I’ve found it!” he announced, as he pocketed a small black stone. “Now it will be all right. Gid-dap, ponies,” and the horses started off again, utterly indifferent to signs of all kinds.

The four chums talked of nothing but camp on the way to the station, and, as for Jed, he was so occupied in watching for signs and omens, good and bad, that he was not a brilliant conversationalist. Just as they approached the depot the driver pulled sharply to the right, turned out of the main road, and urged his horses in a circle around the standpipe of the water tank that supplied the locomotive tenders. Then he swung the team up to the platform.

“Why did you do that?” asked Ned, in curiosity.

“For good luck,” replied Jed. “Nothing better for good luck than going around in a circle just before you start off on a journey. It’s sure to bring you back safe, and I want to see you lads again.”

“How do you make it out that a circle will bring any one back safe?” inquired Frank.

“Because, it stands to reason, don’t it?” asked Jed, with conviction. “A circle’s round, ain’t it? Very well, bein’ round it hasn’t got any end, nor yet any beginnin’. That means you’ve got to come back to the place where you started. I know a circle always brings good luck when you’re goin’ on a journey. I know it for sure. Once I went over to Hampton Junction without goin’ around in a circle before I started. What was the result? A feller stole my pocketbook that had a dollar an’ nineteen cents in it. Don’t tell me there’s nothing in signs.”

The boys laughed, and Jed did not seem to mind. They leaped out on the station platform, and paid the teamster, who wished them all sorts of good luck, in addition to having worked the “circle degree” on them, as Ned expressed it.

“Here!” exclaimed Jed suddenly, as the chums were about to go and purchase their tickets, and he held out a black object to Bart.

“What is it?” inquired the lad.

“That black, lucky stone I picked up when the horse stumbled. Take it along. It will keep you from having an accident, Bart.” The youth was about to refuse, but not wishing to hurt Jed’s feelings he put the rock in his pocket.

A little later the train pulled in, and, getting aboard, the four chums waved a farewell to Jed, who could be observed standing up in his sled, making some queer signs, evidently with the idea of bringing more good luck.

“Well, we’re off at last,” remarked Ned, as the train gathered speed, “and some of Jed’s signs seem to be coming true.”

“How do you make that out?” asked Frank.

“It’s going to clear,” replied Ned, with a look at the sky. “I shan’t mind snow, after we’ve got our camp established, but it’s no fun to set up tents in a storm, so I’m glad it’s going to clear. Jed’s signs are all right.”

It was a ride of several hours to Cannistota, and the boys beguiled the time as best they could. About noon, when the train was passing through a lonely mountainous region, where the woods were as dense as if they had never been cut, Frank remarked:

“Well, what do you say to lunch? It’s about time,” for they had brought along a goodly supply of food, as they could get no meals on the train.

“I’m with you,” announced Bart, as he reached up to the rack over the seats for the baskets. He was standing on his tip-toes, for the rack was high, and was just taking down one of the small hampers, when there came a sudden crash, followed by a ripping, tearing sound, and before Bart knew what had happened he was deposited in a heap on top of Fenn, who, in turn, was mixed up with Frank and Ned.

Bart lay stunned for a few seconds and then, as he picked himself up, and the other lads regained their feet, they saw that every passenger in the car had been hurled from his or her seat.

“What happened?” cried Bart.

At the same moment from the car in which were the four chums, as well as from the other coaches, there arose the shrill screams of women, and the crying of children. The train had rolled on for a few feet, after the crash, but had come to a sudden stop.

“An accident!” cried Fenn. “The train’s wrecked! Come on, let’s get out,” and he scrambled to his feet and started for the door as the conductor and a brakeman ran through the car toward the engine.

CHAPTER XI

PUTTING UP THE TENTS

After the first paralyzing shock of the crash the passengers seemed to come to their senses. Women who had been screaming ceased, and children stopped their frightened crying. Men began to gather themselves together, to crawl out from under seats where the sudden stop had thrown them, and prepared to leave the car.

“What’s the matter, conductor?” called Bart to that official, as he was hurrying out of the car.

“Don’t know – yet,” was the answer flung back over his shoulder.

“We’ll go see,” spoke Ned. “Anyhow, our car’s not smashed; that’s one good thing.”

“No, and it doesn’t seem to have left the track,” observed Frank. “Maybe we only hit an obstruction.”

By this time the four chums were out of their car, and they were followed by a number of men passengers. From other cars a like stream was pouring.

One glance sufficed to show that whatever the wreck was, it was not a terrible one, for there were no telescoped coaches, and, in fact, none seemed to have left the rails, while as for the engine that, too, seemed to be in its usual place at the head of the coaches. The crowd was moving toward the forward end, and thither Bart and his companions went. Matters were becoming quiet, and it was evident that no one was seriously hurt.

The boys found quite a throng around the engine, and they could now see that the cab, on one side, was splintered, and that the forward end of the coach next to the engine, which was the baggage car, was also damaged.

“What’s the matter? What happened?” scores of voices asked the railroad men, who, including the fireman and engineer, were examining the locomotive.

“Driving rod broke,” explained the conductor. “It threshed around like a flail, and smashed the cab, on the fireman’s side of the engine. Luckily he was putting on coal, or he’d been killed. Then the engineer threw on the emergency brake, and the front end of the baggage car crumpled up. Luckily it’s no worse. Has any one heard of any persons being hurt?” the conductor asked the crowd.

“I guess bruises and cuts from broken windows will be about the extent of the injuries, conductor,” replied a fat man. “But how long are we likely to be delayed here? I have an important engagement in Vailton to-day.”

“We’ll have to wait until we can telegraph for another engine,” replied the railroad man. “It will take several hours, I’m afraid.”

There were some expressions of dismay, but, in general, the crowd was thankful that it was no worse. The engineer and fireman were busy trying to get the bent driving rod loose from where it had jammed up somewhere in the interior of the locomotive.

“Let’s go back in our car, and look after our things,” proposed Bart. “We can’t do any good here, and it’s cold,” for they had rushed out without their overcoats. The other passengers were returning to their coaches by this time, leaving the problem of moving the train with the railroad men.

The four chums had been in their seats but a short time, having found their possessions somewhat scattered, but safe, when a brakeman came hurrying in. He hastened to the glass-fronted toolbox, fastened near the ceiling in the center of the car.

“I’ve got to get out that sledge-hammer, axe and saw,” he explained to a woman, who was sitting in the seat under the case. “May I ask you to move, madam?” She did so, and then the brakeman was in a quandary, for it was necessary to break the glass in order to get at the tools. The trainman looked about helplessly, for he had not been on the road long. Bart saw his difficulty.

“Here, I’ll break the glass,” volunteered the lad. “Stand back,” Bart produced the black, lucky stone which Jed had given him, and threw it through the glass front.

There was a crashing, splintering sound, and the glass was in fragments. The brakeman could get at the tools, which he quickly did, hurrying out with them.

“Well, that lucky stone came in handy, after all,” remarked Ned.

“It sure did,” agreed Bart, “though he could have used the end of a flag stick just as well, if he had thought of it.”

While the engineer, firemen, and some of the brakemen worked over the disabled engine, another trainman walked back to the nearest telegraph office to summon a relief engine. Meanwhile the passengers waited with what patience they could.

“Well, suppose we eat now,” proposed Bart.

“Good!” exclaimed Frank. “Pass out the sandwiches,” which Bart proceeded to do.

In the seat across the aisle from the boys was a little girl. Hungrily she eyed the food as it came out of the baskets, and, in a voice that could be heard from one end of the car to the other, she piped out:

“Mamma, I’m hungry. Why didn’t we bring some lunch?”

“Hush, dear,” said the child’s mother. “We will soon be at our station, and we can get something to eat.”

“Not very likely to be there soon, ma’am,” observed the fat man, who was in a hurry. “By Jove, I wish I’d thought to bring a snack. I will, next time I travel on this road.”

“But, mamma, I’m awful hungry,” insisted the child, as she gazed eagerly at the chums who were munching away in great enjoyment.

“Hush!” begged the mother, but the child repeated her request for something to eat.

“Here,” spoke Bart, suddenly, and passed over a chicken sandwich to the little girl. “Will you let her take it?” he asked the mother.

“Certainly, but I’m afraid it will be robbing you.”

“Not at all, we have plenty. Perhaps you’d like one too?” and Bart handed the woman one, which she received with thanks.

“I’ll give you a dollar for two sandwiches, young man,” said the fat man, eagerly.

Bart hesitated. At the same time several other children in the car, seeing the girl eating, began to demand food.

“I say, fellows,” said Bart, quickly. “I’ll tell you what’s let’s do! We’ll distribute our lunch among the youngsters on the train. There must be several of them, and they’re all hungry. It will be some time before they can get to where there’s lunch.”

To the credit of the Darewell Chums be it said that they did not hesitate a moment.

“Go ahead,” exclaimed Ned, and the others nodded assent.

“I wish you’d accept my offer before you came to that conclusion,” sighed the fat man. “But go ahead. The kids will be glad to get it. I’ll have to dine off chocolate caramels, I guess.”

Bart’s plan was soon in operation, to the delight of a number of boys and girls, no less than their distracted mothers. As for the chums, they had each eaten a sandwich before giving away their lunch, and they thought they could stand it until they got to Cannistota. They were given an informal vote of thanks by the grateful parents.

Then ensued tedious waiting until the relief engine came. There were many murmurs, and much fault-finding, but there was no help for it. The candy boy sold out his stock of sweet stuff in record time, even down to the chewing gum. At length a welcome whistle was heard, and soon the train was under way again.

“Well,” remarked Ned, as he settled back in his seat, “we will enjoy our supper, anyhow.”

“Yes,” remarked Bart. “I don’t altogether believe in Jed’s good luck signs. I’d just as soon he would have omitted some of ’em.”

“Oh, well, we’ll be in camp to-morrow,” announced Frank. “Then we can eat whenever we feel like it.”

The chums were late in arriving in Cannistota, and they went at once to a hotel. They had arranged to do this anyhow, as they knew there would not be time to put up tents the same day that they started off on their camping trip. After a substantial meal, to make up for their light dinner, they inquired at the express office, and learned that their camp stuff had arrived safely. They arranged for a teamster to take it to the woods where they had decided to pitch their tents, and early the next morning they were under way.

“It’s a dandy day,” observed Fenn, as he looked at the cloudless sky overhead, and saw the piles of snow on every side.

“A little too warm,” was Bart’s opinion. “Still, it may not be thawing so much in the woods. I’m anxious to get a shot at something. We can’t hunt deer, you know, when there’s tracking snow, but I hear there are bears where we are going.”

“A feller I know killed a big one last week, not a great ways from where you’re going,” observed the teamster.

“That’s the stuff!” cried Bart, as he looked to make sure he had his favorite rifle.

In due time the camping site was reached, the teamster helped them unload, and then drove back, leaving the four chums alone in quite a lonely stretch of wilderness. But they were used to depending on themselves, they knew they had plenty of food, and they hoped to procure more with their guns.

“First thing on the programme is to make the camp-fire, and then set up the tents,” declared Bart, who constituted himself a sort of leader.

Previous experience stood the boys in good stead, and in a short time a roaring fire was blazing, and a kettle of soup in the making was suspended over it. Then the canvas shelters were put up.

It was not easy work, and the boys labored hard, but at last the white tent stood among the trees, making a picturesque spot in the wilderness. Then the cooking shelter was put up, and the stove set, after which Fenn, who constituted himself cook on this occasion, served dinner.

The rest of the day was spent in cutting firewood, seeing to the fastenings of the tents, putting up cots, arranging their baggage and food supplies, and in putting together their shot guns and rifles, for each lad had two weapons.

By this time it was nearly night-fall, and some lanterns were lighted, and hung within and without the tent, giving the place a cheerful look.

As Fenn was walking about, getting ready for a late supper, he stumbled over something, and nearly fell.

“What’s that, a tree root?” asked Bart. “If it is, chop it out, or we’ll all be doing the same thing.”

“It wasn’t a tree root,” observed Fenn, as he turned to examine the object. “By cracky, boys!” he exclaimed. “Look here! It’s a whopping big mud turtle!”

CHAPTER XII

THE PLACE OF THE TURTLES

Fenn’s chums hurried over to where, in the gleam of a lantern, he was contemplating the slow-moving reptile. The turtle was a large one, of a common species, and was ambling along as if it did not at all mind the attention it had attracted.

“Grab it, Fenn!” exclaimed Ned. “It’ll be a dandy for your collection.”

“That’s what it will,” agreed the stout youth, and he grabbed up the turtle, which at once drew in its tail, head and claws, presenting no vantage spot to an enemy.

“By Caesar, here’s another!” exclaimed Bart, a moment later. “Another turtle, Fenn!”

“Yes, and here’s a third one!” added Frank. “It’s a big one, too, Fenn. Shall I catch it for you?”

“Wait a minute, fellows,” replied Fenn, earnestly. “Don’t touch those turtles!”

“Why not?” asked Ned. “Are they poisonous?”

“No, but there’s something queer about so many being out in the woods in the middle of winter. It isn’t natural. There is something out of the ordinary, and we must see what it is.”

“Maybe they’re hunting for the one of their number who wears the diamond bracelet,” suggested Bart, with a laugh, for, in spite of the gravity of the loss, he could not forbear an occasional joke at Fenn’s rather odd theory.

“No, it isn’t that,” went on Fenn earnestly. “But I did have a notion that perhaps the turtles might have escaped from the queer man who wrote and offered to buy my collection – the man we suspect of stealing the bracelet.”

“Why he isn’t in this vicinity,” remarked Frank.

“You don’t know whether he is or not,” was Fenn’s answer. “This seems to be a good place for turtles, though I can’t understand why they should be out in cold weather. But perhaps there is some reason for it.”

There was, and a strange one, as the boys soon discovered.

“Anyhow, they’re here,” observed Ned, “and what are we going to do about it?”

“Don’t touch ’em, I want to see in what direction they are traveling,” called Fenn, who, as soon as he had placed in a safe place the turtle he had caught, came over to where his chums were contemplating the other two.

“They’re both heading for the same place, wherever that is, if that’s any help to you,” remarked Bart.

“Yes,” spoke Fenn, “it may indicate something,” and he looked at the big reptiles, who were crawling along.

“They’re going in the same way as the one was you got,” declared Frank, and the others confirmed this.

For some minutes Fenn observed the movements of the turtles, until they disappeared under some bushes. Then he straightened up and said:

“Well, I don’t believe that mysterious man is in this vicinity, and certainly none of these turtles is wearing a diamond bracelet. I admit I’m away off on that, fellows. But there’s something queer here, and I’m going to get at the bottom of it. It isn’t natural for turtles to be out so plentiful this time of year, and there must be some cause for it.”

“Fenn, you can theorize about turtles all you like, but I want my supper,” called Ned.

“Same here,” came from Frank. “Dish it up, cook!”

Thereupon Fenn gave over watching the turtles, and, a little later, seated cozily in the tent, the chums partook of a supper of canned baked beans, with hard-tack or pilot biscuit, and coffee. Then they sat around, discussing various matters, from the railroad accident to their arrival in camp.

Cots were provided, with plenty of blankets, so they would not suffer from cold, and as an additional precaution a small fire was kept going in the small, sheet-iron, wood-burning stove, which they had brought along to warm the sleeping tent.

“Ah, fellows, this is something like life,” remarked Bart, as he arranged himself on his cot. “Listen to the wind howling outside. We’ll have more snow, I expect, before morning.”