Tom Fairfield's Hunting Trip; or, Lost in the Wilderness

  Produced by Donald Cummings and the Online DistributedProofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net

  TOM TOOK QUICK AIM AND FIRED.]

  Tom Fairfield's Hunting Trip

  Or

  Lost In The Wilderness

  BY

  ALLEN CHAPMAN

  AUTHOR OF "TOM FAIRFIELD'S SCHOOLDAYS," "TOM FAIRFIELD'S PLUCK ANDLUCK," "THE DAREWELL CHUMS SERIES," "BOYS OF PLUCK SERIES," ETC.

  ILLUSTRATED

  NEW YORK CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY PUBLISHERS

  BOOKS FOR BOYS

  BY ALLEN CHAPMAN

  =TOM FAIRFIELD SERIES=

  12mo. Cloth. Illustrated.

  TOM FAIRFIELD'S SCHOOLDAYS TOM FAIRFIELD AT SEA TOM FAIRFIELD IN CAMP TOM FAIRFIELD'S PLUCK AND LUCK TOM FAIRFIELD'S HUNTING TRIP

  =THE DAREWELL CHUMS SERIES=

  12mo. Cloth. Illustrated.

  THE DAREWELL CHUMS THE DAREWELL CHUMS IN THE CITY THE DAREWELL CHUMS IN THE WOODS THE DAREWELL CHUMS ON A CRUISE THE DAREWELL CHUMS IN A WINTER CAMP

  =BOYS OF PLUCK SERIES=

  12mo. Cloth. Illustrated.

  THE YOUNG EXPRESS AGENT TWO BOY PUBLISHERS MAIL ORDER FRANK A BUSINESS BOY'S PLUCK THE YOUNG LAND AGENT

  CUPPLES & LEON CO., PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK

  Copyright 1915, by CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY

  TOM FAIRFIELD'S HUNTING TRIP

  Printed in U. S. A.

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER PAGE I. THE BIG SNOWBALL 1 II. A SURPRISE 9 III. THE PLOT 16 IV. HOLIDAY FUN 25 V. OFF TO CAMP 33 VI. DISQUIETING NEWS 41 VII. AT CAMP 48 VIII. THE FIRST HUNT 54 IX. AN UNEXPECTED MEETING 62 X. AT CAMP NO. 2 68 XI. MORE PLOTTING 76 XII. A LUCKY SHOT 85 XIII. THE CHANGED SIGN 94 XIV. THE BEAR'S TRAIL 103 XV. LOST IN A STORM 113 XVI. THE DESERTED CABIN 120 XVII. SPIED UPON 129 XVIII. LOST AGAIN 138 XIX. THE CAPTURE 147 XX. A PRISONER 155 XXI. SKEEL REVEALS HIMSELF 163 XXII. AN ANXIOUS SEARCH 171 XXIII. DEFIANCE 178 XXIV. THE ESCAPE 186 XXV. THE SHOT 195

  TOM FAIRFIELD'S HUNTING TRIP

  CHAPTER I

  THE BIG SNOWBALL

  "Well, Tom, it sure is a dandy plan!"

  "That's right! A hunting trip to the Adirondacks will just suit me!"

  "And we couldn't have better weather than this, nor a better time thanthe coming holiday season."

  Three lads, who had made the above remarks, came to a whirling stop ontheir shining, nickeled skates and gathered in a small ring about thefourth member of the little party, Tom Fairfield by name. Tom listenedto what was said, and remarked:

  "Well, fellows, I'm glad you like my plan. Now I think----"

  "Like it! I should say we did!" cried the smallest of the three ladsgrouped about the one in the centre. "Why, it's the best ever!" andhe did a spread eagle on his skates, so full of life did he feel thatcrisp December day.

  "Do you really think we can get any game?" asked Jack Fitch, as heloosed his mackinaw at the throat, for he had warmed himself by avigorous burst of skating just before the little halt that had ended inthe impromptu vote of thanks to Tom.

  "Get game? Well, I should say we could!" cried another of the lads.

  "What do you know about it, Bert Wilson?" demanded Jack. "Were you everup there?"

  "No, but I'm sure Tom Fairfield wouldn't ask us up to a hunter's campunless he was reasonably sure that we could get some kind of game.I'm not very particular what kind," Bert went on, "as long as it'sgame--a bear, a mountain lion, a lynx--I'm not hard to suit," he addedmagnanimously.

  "Well, I should say not!" laughed Tom.

  "But say!" exclaimed the youngest member of the quartette--George Abbotby name. "Do you really think we can bag a bear? Or a lynx, maybe? Oreven a fox? Are there really any big animals up there, Tom? What sortof a gun had I better take? And what about an outfit? Do you think----"

  Tom reached out and gently placed a gloved hand over the mouth ofthe questioner, thereby cutting off, for the time being, the flow ofinterrogations.

  "Just a moment, Why, if you please," he said, giving George the nicknamehis fellow students at Elmwood Hall had fastened on the lad who seemedto be a human question mark.

  "Well, I--er--Buu--er--gurg----"

  But that was the nearest semblance to speaking that George couldaccomplish. His companions laughed at him. He finally made a sign thathe would desist if Tom removed the hand-gag, and when this had beendone, Jack proposed a little sprint down to one end of the small lakeon which they were skating.

  "No, we've had enough racing to-day," declared Bert Wilson. "I vote Tomtells us more about this hunters' camp, and what we expect to do there."

  "All right, I'm agreeable," Jack said.

  "Are they----?" began Why, but a look from Bert warned him, and hestopped midway in his question. His chums well knew that if George oncegot started it was hard to stop him.

  "Well, there isn't so much to tell that you fellows don't know already,"began Tom slowly. "In the first place, there are three hunters' camps,not one."

  "Three!" exclaimed Jack and Bert, while George looked the questions hedared not ask.

  "Yes. You see they belong to a party of gentlemen, a sort of campingclub. The camps are about five miles apart, in the wildest part of theAdirondacks."

  "Why--three?" came at last from George. Really he could not keep itback any longer. Tom did not seem to mind.

  "Oh, I suppose they wanted to change their hunting ground," he answered,"and they found it easier to make three camps, or headquarters, than tocome all the way back to the first one. And the club is pretty well off,so it didn't mind the expense."

  "But you don't mean to say we can use all three of 'em?" cried Jack,incredulously.

  "That's the idea," Tom said. "We're just as welcome to use all threecamps as one. They're all about alike, each with a log cabin, nicelyfitted up, set in the midst of the big woods."

  "That's jolly!" cried Bert.

  "And aren't the men themselves going to use them?" George wanted toknow. Again he went unrebuked.

  "Not this season," Tom Fairfield explained. "The club is sort of brokenup for the time being. Some of the men want to go, but they can't getenough together to make a party, so they had to give up their annualholiday outing this year.

  "A business friend of my father's belongs to the club, and he mentionedto Dad that there was a chance for someone to use the camps. Dadhappened to speak of it to me, and I--well, you can imagine what I did!I jumped at the chance, and now you know almost as much as I do aboutit.

  "I'll tell you later just where the camps are, and how we are to getto them. We want to get together and have a talk about what we'll takewith us. School closes here day after to-morrow, and then we'll be freefor nearly a month."

  "And won't we have some ripping old times, though!" cried Jack.

  "Well, I should say yes!" chimed in Bert.

  "Tell you what let's do, fellows!" broke in George. "Let's go up to thetop of that hill and have a coast. Some of our lads from Elmwood arethere with the bobs, and they'll give us a ride. I've had enough ofskating."

  "So have I," chimed in Jack.

  "I'm with you," agreed Bert, stooping to loosen his skates, an examplefollowed by Tom Fairfield.

  "I hope this snowy weather holds," spoke Jack. "But ar
e you allowed toshoot game when there is tracking snow?"

  "I don't just know all the rules," said Tom, "but of course we will dowhat is right. I guess we'll have plenty of snow in the mountains, andcold weather, too."

  "It's getting warm here," observed Bert. "Too warm," for the variableNew Jersey climate had changed from freezing almost to thawing in thenight, and the boys were really taking advantage of the last bit ofskating they were likely to have in some time.

  There were not many besides themselves on the ice of the lake when theystarted from it, heading for the big hill not far away--a hill whereonthe youth of Elmwood Hall, a boarding school near the Jersey statecapital, had many jolly times.

  When Tom Fairfield and his chums, talking about the camping and huntingtrip in prospect, reached the hill, they found it deserted--that is, byall save a few small town boys with their little sleds.

  "No coasting to-day," observed Jack, ruefully.

  "No, it's getting too soft," added Bert, digging his foot into thesnowy surface of the hill. But the small boys did not mind that. Withthe big lads out of the way, smaller fry had a chance.

  George Abbot picked up a handful of snow and rolled it into a ball. Ashe noticed how well it packed, he exclaimed:

  "Say, fellows, another idea!"

  "Ha! He's full of 'em to-day!" laughed Jack.

  "Get rid of it, Why," advised Tom. "Don't keep ideas in your system."

  "Let's roll a whopping big snowball," proposed George, "and send itdown hill. It will roll all the way to the bottom, and pick up snow allthe way down."

  "It will be some snowball when it gets to the bottom," observed Tom."This snow does pack wonderfully well," he added, testing it.

  "Come on!" cried George, and he started to roll the ball. In a fewminutes he had one so large that it needed two to shove it about, andas it gathered layer after layer of snow, it accumulated in size untilthe strength of the four lads was barely sufficient to send it slowlyalong.

  "Now to the top of the hill with it!" cried Tom, and it was placed onthe brink. The boys held it at a point where it would not interferewith the small coasters. It was poised on the brink a moment.

  "Let her go!" cried Tom.

  "There she goes!" echoed Jack Fitch.

  They shoved the ball down the slope. On and on it rolled, gaining inmomentum and size with every bound.

  "Look at it!" cried George. "Say, it sure is going!"

  "And it's getting as big as a house!" excitedly shouted Bert.

  "It will roll all the way across the lake," said Tom, for the frozenbody of water was at the foot of the hill, and it did seem as thoughthe snowball had momentum enough to carry it over the ice.

  A moment later the ball was at the foot of the hill, and rollingalong with increasing speed. And then, so suddenly that the boys werestartled with fear, something happened.

  Out on the ice drove a horse and a cutter, containing a man. He hadleft the road and taken a short cut across the ice. And now he wasdirectly in the path of the immense, rolling snowball.

  "Stop! Stop!" cried Tom Fairfield. "Look out!"

  But it was too late to stop, even if the man in the cutter had heardhim.

  On rushed the great ball directly toward the horse and vehicle.