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"SOME ANIMAL HAS GONE ALONG HERE, SURE ENOUGH," SAIDX-RAY]
THE MOUNTAIN BOYS SERIES
PHIL BRADLEY'S SNOW-SHOE TRAIL
OR
THE MOUNTAIN BOYS IN CANADA WILDS
BY
SILAS K. BOONE
THE NEW YORK BOOK COMPANY
NEW YORK
Copyright, 1915, by
THE NEW YORK BOOK COMPANY
CONTENTS CHAPTER I--INTO THE LAND OF THE MOOSE AND CARIBOU CHAPTER II--BESIDE THE FRAGRANT CAMP FIRE CHAPTER III--FISHING THROUGH THE ICE WITH TIP-UPS CHAPTER IV--LUB'S BEAR CHAPTER V--X-RAY STRAPS ON HIS SNOW-SHOES CHAPTER VI--A QUARREL OVER THE GAME CHAPTER VII--NOT TO BE BLUFFED CHAPTER VIII--AGAIN ON THE TRAIL CHAPTER IX--THE WAIF OF THE SNOW FOREST CHAPTER X--A RUDE AWAKENING CHAPTER XI--ON GUARD CHAPTER XII--LAYING PLANS CHAPTER XIII--THE MYSTERY OF THE PINE WOODS CHAPTER XIV--MR. JAMES BODMAN GIVES A DANCE CHAPTER XV--THE FIRE VIGIL CHAPTER XVI--BAYLAY'S HOME-COMING--CONCLUSION
PHIL BRADLEY'S SNOW-SHOE TRAILOR, THE MOUNTAIN BOYS IN CANADA WILDS
CHAPTER I
INTO THE LAND OF THE MOOSE AND CARIBOU
"That cold chicken Mrs. McNab put up for our lunch yesterday went fine,fellows; and I only wish we had the like of it for to-day!"
"You always did have a weakness for fowls, Ethan."
"Just so, X-Ray Tyson; that's why they put me out in the left garden onour Brewster baseball team so I could gobble all that were knocked thatway."
"Well, we've heard you boasting lots of times about that wonder of arooster you've got at home."
"Oh! you mean old Robinson Crusoe, don't you, Lub?"
"Yes, that sorrel-topped ungainly looking crow-factory we've all seenstrutting around your yard so often. I never ran across an uglier bird,for a fact, if you'll excuse me for saying it, Ethan."
The boy who answered to the last mentioned name only laughed as hecontinued:
"No apologies needed, X-Ray; because I know myself he's sure no beauty;but say, let me tell you he's a scrapper from the ground up."
"How on earth did you ever come to call him by such a queer name, Ethan?Did you happen to get him on Friday? Mebbe you found him on an island;or fished him out after a shipwreck on the water?"
"You're away off your base, Lub. I'll proceed to enlighten you a bit.It's a wonder to me some of you haven't asked about that before now.First of all, we got him from a man named Robinson, who peddleschickens, and collects eggs through Brewster territory. For a while wealways referred to him as 'Robinson's fowl.' Get that?"
"Yes, but go on, Ethan."
"Well, when he had his fierce fight with Zack Avery's game rooster thathad beaten everything to flinders, and Robinson actually whipped him, webegan to think he deserved a medal. After he had made the game run forhome he perched on the dividing fence and let everybody know about itwith his clarion voice; so I said right on the spot he ought to be giventhe rest of the famous Robinson name because he _crew so_!"
"Oh! somebody take hold of me, or I'm liable to fall off the sled and beleft behind!" shouted the boy called Lub, and who was well named itappeared, judging from his generous proportions.
The stout boy was duly restrained and hugged by X-Ray Tyson and Ethanuntil he begged his companions to desist.
"I didn't mean that I wanted you to _squeeze_ me to death," hecomplained; "that would be jumping out of the fryingpan into the fire.I'm fully recovered now from my weakness: but, Ethan, _please_ don't doanything like that again."
There were just four boys in the party, all dressed warmly for a winterouting, and perched upon a number of bundles that went to make up thecargo of the homely old Canadian two-horse sledge, built not unlikethose in common use around Moscow during a Russian winter.
Besides Ethan Allen, X-Ray Tyson and the stout youth, Lub Fenwick, whosereal name however was Osmond, there was a fourth lad, to whom the othersseemed to defer in a way that might suggest leadership.
In fact Phil Bradley did occupy this position among his chums, and withreason, for none of them could compare with him in concocting cleverideas, and also in carrying out the same.
They all belonged to the town of Brewster, which was situated hundredsof miles to the southwest of where we find them on this crisp winterday.
Those who have had the opportunity of reading the earlier volumes inthis series know how it happened that there was no school in session inBrewster that fall and early winter, so that the scholars were given along vacation.
Phil and his three chums had come to call themselves the Mountain Boys;just why we have not the time or space to explain here, except that itmay have had something to do with Ethan Allen's ancestors, who wereRevolutionary heroes, and connected with the famous Green Mountain Boys.
Phil was an orphan who had been left a large fortune in trust, so thathe could do almost as he liked financially; though he had no bad habits,and used his means in a healthy way for the benefit of others, as wellas his own enjoyment. Lub had a rich aunt who spoiled him; and theparents of the Tyson boy were also considered well-to-do--by the way hisname was really Raymond, but he was always so quick to see throughthings, that his playmates soon corrupted his first name as above.
These four boys were ambitious to take certain trips calculated to callfor considerable expenditure of cash. The Allens, not being rich, andEthan, being too proud to accept of continuous favors at the hands ofPhil, for a time it looked as if the magic combination must be broken.
Between them the other three hatched up a wonderful scheme which theyimmediately put into operation. It has been spoken of in earlier books,but in order that new readers may understand the situation, a few wordsof explanation may not be amiss.
Ethan had always been a boy given to earning various sums of money bydoing odd jobs, and at the recommendation of Phil he started to use someold traps he happened to own, with more or less success in securing suchpelts as muskrats in the marsh, together with an occasional fox or mink,while even 'coons yielded up their hides for his benefit.
In the spring and summer Ethan scoured the woods for certain valuableroots such as wild ginseng, golden rod and others. These he dried, andwhen he had a quantity, shipped to a certain dealer according to thedirections of Phil.
The results were certainly pleasing, for the checks that came back madeEthan very proud. But the fact of the matter was, this was all a littlescheme of Phil's. To tell the truth the pretended dealer in roots andfurs down in New York was a certain rich bachelor uncle of Phil's, whoentered heartily into the game, once he learned the purpose of hisnephew's idea.
He even had letter heads and envelopes printed as though he might bedoing a land-office business in purchasing such commodities. But if thewonderfully fine prices that he paid Ethan for everything he sentprevailed all along the line, it is likely that nine-tenths of the malepopulation of the country would be turning their attention to suchprofitable pursuits.
Of course the reader can understand that nine-tenths of the money Ethanreceived in these complimentary letters came from Phil; but not forworlds would this intelligence be allowed to reach the proud trapper androot-hunter.
It was in one way rather a mean thing to do, but the intention wasnoble. It allowed Ethan to pay his share of the general expenses ontheir outings, and saved his self-respect. Granted that he never learnedof the subterfuge everything would be well.
There were times, however, when Ethan quite naturally boasted just alittle about
his superior ability to dry roots better than anybody else;and also of his grand luck in trapping a prize black fox, when inreality the skin that brought him almost three hundred dollars was notworth more than five at the most.
On these occasions Lub would titter a little, though he quickly turnedit off if Ethan turned to stare at him, by coughing, and complaining ofa tickling in his throat.
Only when they were positive that Ethan was out of hearing did the threeconspirators dare compare notes on this subject, and laugh over thesuccess of their grand scheme. But as X-Ray once said, it was likeskating over a "ticklish bender" on the frozen mill pond; because theymight try it once too often, and excite the suspicion of the boy who wasbeing hoodwinked, greatly to his profit.
Phil and his three chums had spent some time in camp up in theAdirondacks not a great while back. Their latest trip had been down onthe Coast along a certain section on Currituck Sound, where Phil owned a"shooting lodge" that had been left to him by an old hermit. Whatamazing adventures developed during their stay on the salt water inpursuit of wild fowl have been given in detail in the preceding volume.
This trip up into the Canadian wilderness had been planned for a longtime. In fact ever since X-Ray received a present on the last Christmasof a pair of fine Canadian show-shoes he had done little but talk of hisdesire to some time or other get up there where they always had plentyof snow, just to learn how to use his treasured gift.
Strangely enough there had never come about a time since then when hecould do any decent work with his snow-shoes. When a fall of snow didcome along it was followed by a soft spell that ruined the going; and soit came about that here they were, headed for a certain place in theCanadian "bush," where they hoped to spend a week or two hunting, andenjoying themselves in every possible way.
Phil had been put in touch with an old Scotch farmer who had promised totake them bag and baggage into the woods, and come for them again at acertain date. On the previous morning they had started over the snow onhis queer sledge, with a large quantity of luggage that was intended tomake for their comfort. One night they had camped on the way, and "The"McNab, whose other name was Tammis, promised that before darkness rolledaround again he would have them located in the best hunting region ofthe Saguenay country.
Of course X-Ray Tyson was not the only one who had snow-shoes, becausethere were three other pairs in plain sight. Phil alone really had hadprevious practical experience on the clumsy "gunboats," as Lub calledthem; though X-Ray claimed to have paddled around in his yard many timeson an inch of snow, without any dire disaster.
The McNab was a red-faced Scotch-Canadian, warm of heart, thoughpossibly a bit over fond of imbibing, and perhaps not as dependable ashe might be when in one of these bibulous moods.
He was greatly interested in the four lively American lads, and listenedto the many stories they told connected with their past experiences.
Thus the second morning of their tedious ride began to wear away.Surrounded by the rough country that characterizes all this section ofnortheast Canada, they began to feel that ere long they would be cut offfrom all communication with civilization.
All that morning they had not seen a single house of any description.The road over which the two sturdy Canadian shaggy ponies were draggingthe sledge was only a logging or "tote" road along which teams sometimeswent on the way to or from some logging camp situated nearer the river.
"We'll soon be leaving even this road, and taking to the bush, you say,Mr. McNab?" Lub was asking, as he clutched the arm of Ethan in a suddenspasm of fear lest he be shaken from his seat when one of the runners ofthe sled struck an obstruction, tilting the whole load dangerously.
"Oh, aye, but I assure ye it couldno' be any worse than this. Ye kenthat the road is seldom used, and it gets in a peetiful state. But itwill not be for lang. When we turn off the going will be better, yeunderstand."
Mr. McNab had a very broad touch of the brogue. Lub loved to hear himroll the "R's" off his thick tongue, and often asked questions just tobe amused in that way.
"Look ahead there, will you?" cried out X-Ray just then; for when itcame to using his eyes to advantage the Tyson boy had all of his chums"beaten to a frazzle," as Ethan used to say; "here comes a man walkingalong the road. Why, we must be getting near a town of some kind."
"Aweel, laddy, nae doot ye think so, but it taks more than one man tomak a toun. That party is a logger coming from the camp. I dinna ken whyhe should be giving up his job so airly in the season, but it may be heis seek, or has had some sorry news frae hame."
The brawny logger had an ax, with a small bundle suspended from thesame, slung over his shoulder. He stopped and waited for them to comeup, when he nodded his head in salutation.
"You're The McNab, I take it," he remarked, addressing the driver of theshaggy ponies. "I'm one of the Sawyer bunch over on the river ten milesaway. On my way back home; wife down with a fever and the kids need me.Get up later on if all goes well. What sort of a crowd are you taking upinto the bush this time, Tammis? Seems like a young outfit for such biggame hunting."
"Oh! ay, so it does," replied the driver, quickly; "but these brawladdies hae seen muckle mair o' such business than most men that come upthis way. They weel know how to tak care o' themselves, nae doot. Whatare the chances for game this season; and do ye know o' anny itherparties in the bush?"
"I hear there are moose aplenty this year," the logger replied, as hefilled his pipe from the bag of tobacco McNab held out to him; "and sofar I've only heard tell o' one party o' sportsmen along these parts.They're camped nigh the Hogback on Cranberry Creek."
"Seems to me I heard talk aboot the Baylay coming back to his old hauntsagain. They did say he had reformed, but, mon, they leed, fo' that de'ilwould never be annything but the toughest man in all the Saguenayregion, though he lived to a hundred."
"Yes, they say it's true, and one of our crew ran across him," thelogger returned, with a frown, and a shake of the head. "He is stillnursing a broken head; and bore the word from Baylay that if any otherloggers tried to take the quarrel up they knew where to find him."
"Oh, ay, he never hides _his_ light under a bushel, mon. And I only hopethat the laddies here will not run a foul of the braggart while they arein the bush."
"Well, if they do they'd better knuckle under, and whisper small. Thereisn't a man I know as would be willing to stack up against Baylay whenhe's roused and in one of his quarrelsome moods. He is a terror if everthere was one. But I must be on my way; the sooner I get home thebetter. Good-by to ye, boys, and I hope ye have a fine time; but bewareBaylay!"
He struck out down the logging road with his bundle dangling from the axthat lay across his shoulder. McNab chirped to his ponies and once morethe sledge started on its way.
Lub had an apprehensive look on his chubby face. His eyes sought thoseof Phil in a mute inquiry.
"Would you mind telling us something about this man, Baylay, Mr. McNab?"asked Phil; while both X-Ray Tyson and Ethan nodded their approval, fortheir curiosity had also been aroused.
"Oh! ay, though the least said aboot him the better," replied thedriver, as he glanced uneasily on either side of the road at the thick"bush" as though he half feared lest the party under discussion might bewithin earshot of them and take offense; "he is a verra big and powerfulman who has a most ungovernable temper. He has gi'en the authorities agreat deal o' trouble in the past, but it is maist difficult to get anyone to try and arrest him. He has been a logger in his time, and one o'the best ever known along the river. They say he used to smuggle acrossthe border; and to this day he kills game out o' season as he pleases;yet the wardens are sore afraid to attempt his arrest."
"Whew! that sounds nice, I must say!" exclaimed X-Ray Tyson.
"Rather an unpleasant neighbor to have around, seems to me," addedEthan.
"I should remark," declared Lub.
"I only hope," Phil finished with, "that we don't have the bad luck torun across this Baylay while we're up here. For while i
t might be policyfor us to knuckle down and try not to cross such a quarrelsome man, itgoes against the grain of the Mountain Boys to be meek and uncomplainingwhen they are in the right."
"That's what we all say, Phil!" declared X-Ray.
Tammis McNab looked at his charges, and rubbed his bristly chinreflectively, as though it struck him there might be some lively timesin prospect in case these American lads and the Baylay did happen to runup against each other in the bush.