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With Trapper Jim in the North Woods

L >> Lawrence J. Leslie >> With Trapper Jim in the North Woods



Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Mary Meehan, David Garcia
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.






THE CAMPFIRE AND TRAIL SERIES
WITH TRAPPER JIM IN THE NORTH WOODS

BY LAWRENCE J. LESLIE

1913




CONTENTS

CHAPTER

I. WHAT LUCK DID FOR THE CHUMS

II. HOW POOR TOBY WAS "RESCUED"

III. WHAT WOODCRAFT MEANT

IV. THE SECRETS OF TRAPPING

V. WHAT CAME DOWN THE CHIMNEY

VI. STEVE STARTS GAME

VII. THE UNWELCOME GUEST

VIII. SMOKING THE INTRUDER OUT

IX. BEFORE THE BLAZING LOGS

X. THE TRAIL OF THE CLOG

XI. "STEADY, STEVE, STEADY!"

XII. THE END OF A THIEF

XIII. A GLIMPSE OF THE SILVER FOX

XIV. THE PURSUIT

XV. GLORIOUS NEWS

XVI. SURPRISING BRUIN--Conclusion




WITH TRAPPER JIM IN THE NORTH WOODS.


[Illustration: "THE SILVER FOX!"]




CHAPTER I.

WHAT LUCK DID FOR THE CHUMS.


"It was a long trip, fellows, but we're here at last, thank goodness!"

"Yes, away up in the North Woods, at the hunting lodge of Trapper Jim!"

"Say, it's hard to believe, and that's a fact. What do you say about it,
you old stutterer, Toby Jucklin?"

"B-b-bully!" exploded the boy, whose broad shoulders, encased in a blue
flannel shirt, had been pounded when this question was put directly at
him.

There were five of them, half-grown boys all, lounging about in the most
comfortable fashion they could imagine in the log cabin which Old Jim
Ruggles occupied every fall and winter.

"Trapper Jim" they called him, and these boys from Carson had long been
yearning to accept the hearty invitation given to spend a week or two
with the veteran woodsman. A year or so back Jim had dropped down to see
his brother Alfred, who was a retired lawyer living in their home town.
And it was at this time they first found themselves drawn toward Jim
Ruggles.

When he heard of several little camping experiences which had befallen
Toby Jucklin and his chums, the trapper had struck up a warm friendship
with the boy who seemed to be the natural leader of the lot, Max
Hastings.

Well, they had been writing back and forth this long time. Eagerly had
the boys planned a visit to the North Woods, and bent all their energies
toward accomplishing that result.

And now, at last, they found themselves under the shelter of the roof
that topped Old Jim's cabin. Their dreams had come true, so that several
weeks of delightful experiences in the great Northern forest lay before
them.

Besides Toby Jucklin, who stuttered violently at times, and Max Hastings,
who had had considerable previous experience in outdoor life, there were
Steve Dowdy, whose quick temper and readiness to act without considering
the consequences had long since gained him the name of "Touch-and-Go
Steve"; Owen Hastings, a cousin to Max, and who, being a great reader,
knew more or less about the theory of things; and last, but not least, a
boy who went by the singular name of "Bandy-legs" Griffin.

At home and in school they called him Clarence; but his comrades, just as
all boys will do, early in his life seized upon the fact of his lower
limbs being unusually short to dub him "Bandy-legs."

Strange to say, the Griffin lad never seemed to show the least resentment
in connection with this queer nickname. If the truth were told, he really
preferred having it, spoken by boyish lips, than to receive that detested
name of Clarence.

These five boys had come together with the idea of having a good time in
the great outdoors during vacation days.

And Fortune had been very kind to them right in the start. Although Max
always declared that it was some remark of his cousin that put him on the
track, and Owen on his part vowed that the glory must rest with Max
alone, still the fact remained that once the idea popped up it was
eagerly seized upon by both boys.

They needed more or less cash with which to purchase tents, guns, and
such other things as appeal to boys who yearn to camp out, fish, hunt,
and enjoy the experiences of outdoor life.

As the Glorious Fourth had exhausted their savings banks, this bright
idea was hailed with more or less glee by the other three members of the
club.

It was not an original plan, but that mattered nothing. Success was what
they sought, and to attain it the boys were quite willing to follow any
old beaten path.

An account of valuable pearls being found in mussels that were picked up
along certain streams located in Indiana, Arkansas, and other states,
suggested the possibility of like treasures near at home.

Now, Carson, their native town, lay upon the Evergreen River; and this
stream had two branches, called the Big Sunflower and the Elder. The boys
knew that there were hundreds of mussels to be found up the former
stream. They had seen the shells left by hungry muskrats, and even
gathered a few to admire the rainbow-hued inside coating, which Owen told
them was used in the manufacture of pearl buttons.

But up to that time no one apparently had dreamed that there might be a
snug little fortune awaiting the party who just started in to gather the
mussels along the Big Sunflower.

This Max and his chums had done. Their success had created quite an
excitement around Carson.

When it was learned what was going on, farm hands deserted their daily
tasks; boys quit loafing away the vacation days, and even some of those
who toiled in the factories were missing from their looms.

Everybody hunted for pearls. The little Big Sunflower never saw such
goings on. They combed its waters over every rod of the whole mile where
the fresh-water clams seemed to exist.

When the furor was over, and there were hardly half a hundred wretched
mussels left in the waters that had once upon a time fairly teemed with
them, the results were very disappointing.

Two or three small pearls had been found, it is true, but the majority of
the seekers had to be satisfied with steamed mussels, or fresh-water clam
chowder, as a reward for their hard work.

The wide-awake boys who first conceived the idea had taken the cream of
the pickings. And from a portion of the money secured through the sale of
these beautiful pearls they had purchased everything needed to fill the
heart of a camper with delight.

Here, as the afternoon sun headed down toward the western horizon, the
boys, having arrived by way of a buckboard wagon at noon, were looking
into the flames of Trapper Jim's big fire in the log cabin, and mentally
shaking hands with each other in mutual congratulation over their good
fortune.

There was a decided tang of frost in the air, which told that the summer
season was gone and early fall arrived.

It might seem strange that these boys, who in October might be expected
to be deep in the fall school term, should be away from home and up in
the wilderness.

That was where Good Luck remembered them again, and the explanation is
simple enough.

Even in the well-managed town of Carson, school directors sometimes
neglected their work. And in this year, when the vacation period was
three quarters over, the discovery was made that the big building was in
such a bad condition that certain extensive repairs would have to be
made.

In consequence, greatly to the delight of the older scholars, it was
decided that school for them could not take up until the middle of
November.

As soon as Max learned of this delightful fact he knew the time had come
for their long-promised visit to Trapper Jim.

They had been tempted to go during the summer months, but as there was
little to do in the woods at that period of the year save fishing, the
boys had been holding off.

Now they could expect to use their guns; to see how Jim set his cunning
traps that netted him such rich rewards each winter season, and to enjoy
to the full that most glorious time of the whole year in the woods, the
autumn season, when the leaves are colored by the early frosts and the
first ice forms on the shores of the little trout streams.

As the afternoon passed they recovered from the effects of the long
railroad journey overnight and the joggling buckboard experience. A
thousand questions had been fired at Jim, who was a good-humored old
fellow with a great love for boys in his heart.

"Take things kind of easy to-day, boys," he kept on saying, when they
wanted to know why he didn't get busy and show them all the wonderful
things he had in store for his lively young visitors. "I want you to rest
up and be in good trim for to-morrow. Plenty of time to begin work then.
Knock around and see what it looks like where Old Jim has had his hunting
lodge this seven years back."

So they did busy themselves prying into things. And between that hour and
dark there were very few spots around the immediate neighborhood that
they had not examined.

Jim's stock of well-kept Victor steel traps were commented on, and
stories listened to in connection with this one or that. No wonder the
hunting instinct in the lads was pretty well aroused by the time they had
heard some of these stirring accounts.

"If the whole bunch of traps could only talk, now," declared Owen, as he
handled a big one meant for bear, "wouldn't they make the shivers run up
and down our backbones, though?"

Trapper Jim only smiled.

He had a thousand things to tell the boys, but, of course, he did not
want to exhaust the subject in the beginning. By degrees they should hear
all about his many adventures. It would be his daily pleasures
to thrill his boy visitors with these truthful stories as they gathered
each night around the roaring fire and rested after the day's work.

The shades of night, their very first night in those wonderful North
Woods of which they had dreamed so long, were fast gathering now.

Already the shadows had issued forth from their hiding places, and the
woods began to assume a certain gloomy look.

Later on, the moon, being just past the full, would rise above the top of
the distant hills toward the east. Then the woods might not seem so
strangely mysterious.

"When you're ready to begin getting supper, Uncle Jim," said Max, "you
must let us lend a hand. We don't know it all by a long sight, but we can
cook some, and eat--wait till you see Steve begin, and Toby--Why, hello,
here we've been chattering away like a flock of crows and never noticed
that our chum Toby was missing all the while!"

"Missing!" echoed Steve, jumping up eagerly at the prospect of their
first adventure coming along; and no doubt already picturing all of them
stalking through the big timber, lanterns and torches in hand, searching
for the absent chum.

"Who saw him last?" asked Max.

"Why, a little before dark," Owen answered, promptly, "I noticed him
prowling around out among the trees. He called out that a cottontail
rabbit had jumped up and was just daring him to chase after her."

"Looks like he accepted the dare, all right," said Bandy-legs.

"Where's a lantern? I choose a lantern. You other fellows can carry the
torches, because I got burned the last time I tried that game."

Steve was already beginning to hunt around as he talked, when Trapper
Jim, who had meanwhile gone and opened the door of the cabin, called to
them to be still.

"I thought I heard him right then," he said, "and it sounded to me like
he was calling for help. Get both those lanterns, boys, and light 'em.
We've got to look into this thing right away."




CHAPTER II.

HOW POOR TOBY WAS "RESCUED."


Of course the greatest excitement followed this announcement on the part
of the old trapper.

Steve darted this way and that, fairly wild to do something; and
Bandy-legs, too, showed himself anxious to help. But, as usual, it was
cool Max, assisted by Owen, who managed to light the two lanterns.

Steve pounced on the first one that was ready, true to his word.

"Come on, you slow pokes!" he exclaimed, making for the door; "why, our
poor chum might be drowning for all we know, and us wasting time here."

"Oh, I reckon it ain't so bad as that," remarked Trapper Jim. "Hard to
drown a tall boy in a three-foot deep crick. Besides, he's _up_ the wind
from here, while the water lies the other way. That's one reason none of
us heard him before."

They were all hurrying along by now. Bandy-legs, being a little timid,
and not altogether liking the looks of the dark woods, had picked up the
gun belonging to Max.

"My goodness!" he called out after the others, being in the rear of the
little procession, "there's no telling how long poor old Toby might 'a'
been letting out his whoops, and with that door shut we didn't hear him."

"Well, we can right now, all right!" called back Steve, who was running
neck and neck with the trapper, swinging his lighted lantern in such a
reckless, haphazard fashion that he was in momentary danger of smashing
the useful article against some tree.

They could all hear Toby calling very clearly now.

"Help! Oh, h-h-help!"

"One thing sure," Max remarked; "Toby hasn't tumbled down into a hollow
tree stump! His yells sound too plain for that."

"Oh, shucks; forget it!" said Bandy-legs.

Some time before, while the boys were hunting for Bandy-legs, who had
become lost in a large swamp not twenty miles away from Carson, they had
finally found him, caged fast inside a large hollow stump. He had climbed
to the top of this to take an observation, when the rotten wood, giving
way, had allowed him to fall inside.

It had been a bitter experience for Bandy-legs, and his chums never
mentioned it without him shivering, as memory again carried him back to
the hours of suffering he had spent in his woody prison.

As they advanced the cries grew louder:

"H-h-help! Boys, oh, b-b-boys, come q-q-quick! I can't h-h-hold on much
longer!"

"Say, he must be away up in a tree!" exclaimed Steve.

"No, his voice sounds closer to the ground than that," declared Max.

"Tell you what," panted Bandy-legs from behind, "he's just gone and fell
over some old cliff, that's what. You know how clumsy Toby is."

That sounded rather queer, since it was the speaker himself who had
always been getting into scrapes because of this trait.

"Cliff!" snorted Steve, "like to know how anybody could ever fall up a
cliff. You mean a precipice, silly."

"Guess I do," admitted Bandy-legs, "but it's all the same. If you're on
top it's a precipice, and if you're down below--"

"Listen to him holler, would you?" interrupted Steve. "Hold on, Toby,
we're coming as fast as we c'n sprint! Keep up a little longer! It's all
right! Your pards are on the job!"

Max thought he saw Trapper Jim laughing about this time. From this he
imagined the other must have guessed the true state of affairs, and that
poor Toby could not be in such desperate straits as they believed.

The darkness was intense there under the trees.

Several times did impulsive Steve stumble over obstacles which in his
eagerness he had failed to notice.

Trapper Jim was doubtless sizing the various boys up by degrees, and long
before now he had read most of their leading characteristics. But anyone
would be able to know the headstrong nature of Steve Dowdy, after being
in his company for an hour.

"Where are you, Toby, old fellow?" called Steve.

"H-h-here! L-l-lookout, or you'll f-f-fall over, too," came weakly from a
point just ahead of them.

"Oh, didn't I tell you?" shouted Bandy-legs. "It is a _precipice_ after
all, and p'r'aps an awful high one! Hold on, Toby, don't you dare let
loose when we're right at hand."

Max had felt a thrill again at the prospect of such a peril threatening
Toby. But another look at Trapper Jim reassured him.

"Yes," said Jim, "be mighty careful how you step, boys. Get down on your
hands and knees and creep up here to the edge of the awful chasm. Now,
hold the lanterns down, so we can all of us see."

Cautiously did the alarmed Steve do as he was told. Four pairs of eager
eyes took in the situation. Amazement staggered the boys for the space of
ten seconds. Then they burst out into loud laughter.

And no wonder.

Toby was hanging there all right, red of face from his long-continued
exertion, and looking appealingly up to his chums. He had caught hold of
a friendly stout root as he found himself going over, and to this he
clung, digging his toes from time to time into the face of the
"precipice," and in this way managing to sustain himself, though almost
completely exhausted by the alarm and strain combined.

"Ain't you g-g-goin' to h-h-help me?" he gasped, amazed no doubt to hear
his heartless chums laughing at his misfortune.

"Let go, Toby!" cried Max.

"Yes, drop down and take a rest!" added Steve, who could enjoy a joke to
the utmost when it was on Toby, with whom he often had words; though all
the same they were quite fond of each other.

"W-w-want me to get s-s-smashed, d-d-don't you?" answered back the
indignant boy, as he continued to clutch that root, as though he believed
it to be the only thing between himself and destruction.

"Look down, you loon!" cried Steve. "Call that a big drop? Why, I declare
the ground ain't more'n six inches down below your feet! Shucks; did I
ever hear the like!"

Toby did twist his neck the best he could and look. Then with a glad cry
he released his hold on the friendly root to fall in a heap.

"Let's get down to him," said Trapper Jim, "he must be pretty well used
up, I reckon. Perhaps he's been hangin' thar half an hour'n more."

"But whatever made him do such a silly thing?" asked Steve, as they
proceeded to go around the edge of the little "sink," led by the trapper,
who knew every foot of ground.

"Well, I don't know that it was so queer after all," declared Jim; "you
see, when he fell over here in the dark, how was Toby to know whether he
was hanging over a precipice ten feet deep or a hundred? All he could do
was to keep hold of that root and holler for help."

"And he did that to beat the band," declared Owen.

"I guess it was all real to him," the trapper went on to say; "and
chances are, when he heard the trickling of this little brook that runs
through the sink here, he thought it was a river away below him. Oh, I
can feel for Toby all right. I once had an experience myself something
like his. But here we are down. How're you feeling, son?"

"P-p-pretty r-r-rocky," declared Toby, who was sitting up when they
reached him, and seemed to be trembling all over, as the result of the
nervous strain to which he had been subjected.

"Don't blame you a bit," declared Max, who saw that the poor chap had in
truth suffered considerably. "Lots of fellows would have thought the same
as you did, Toby. I might myself, if I'd slipped down that way in the
dark. Here, grab hold with me, Steve, and we'll help Toby home."

"Anyhow," admitted Toby, as they put their arms about him, "I'm g-g-glad
you did c-c-come. R-r-reckon I'd f-f-fainted if I just had to let
g-g-go."

"Rats! I don't believe it," scoffed the unbelieving Steve.

Once they reached the trapper's cabin, and came under the cheerful
influence of that crackling fire, even Toby's spirits rose again. He had
by this time recovered some of his usual grit, and could afford to laugh
with the rest at his recent experience.

It was about as Trapper Jim suspected.

Toby had been tempted to follow the lame rabbit for some little distance
into the woods. Finally, finding that he had gone pretty far, and with
night closing in rapidly all around him, the boy had started to return.

Becoming a little confused, he had stumbled one way and another, and in
the end fallen over the edge of the shallow sink.

Throwing out his hands even as he felt himself falling, he had caught
hold of the projecting root. Here he had hung, trying again and again to
climb up, but in vain; and quite sure that a terrible void lay beyond his
dangling legs.

At first Toby had been too alarmed to even think of calling for help. But
as time went by, and he realized the desperate nature of his predicament,
he tried to shout.

This was never an easy task to the stuttering boy, and doubtless he made
a sorry mess out of it.

But all's well that ends well. Toby had been gallantly rescued, and now
the five chums were doing their level best to assist Trapper Jim prepare
supper.

Would they ever forget the delights of that first meal under the roof of
the forest cabin? Often had they partaken of a camp dinner, but never
before had it seemed to have the same flavor as this one did, surrounded
as they were with those bunches of suggestive steel traps, the furs that
told of Jim's prowess in other days, and above all having the presence
of the grizzled trapper himself, a veritable storehouse of wonderful
information and thrilling experiences.

And after the meal was finished they made themselves as comfortable as
each could arrange it, using all Jim's furs in the bargain.

"Now, let's lay out the programme for to-morrow," suggested Max.

"Me to try for the first deer," spoke up Steve, quickly. "Squirrel stew,
like we had for supper to-night, is all very well, but it ain't in the
same class with fresh venison. Yum, yum, my mouth fairly waters for it,
boys!"

"Some like venison and some say gray nut-fed squirrels," remarked Trapper
Jim. "As for me, give me squirrel every time."

"But we ought to try and get one deer anyway, hadn't we?" Steve pleaded.

"Sure we will," replied the owner of the cabin, heartily, "and I hope it
falls to your gun, Steve, seeing you dote on venison so. But it might be
to-morrow I'd like to set a few of my traps, and reckoned that some of
you boys'd want to watch me do the job."

"That's right," cried Owen and Max together, their eyes fairly sparkling
with delight at the anticipated treat.

So they talked on, and Trapper Jim told lots of mighty interesting things
as he smoked his old black pipe and sent curling wreaths of blue smoke up
the broad throat of the chimney.

"Wonder if the moon ain't up long before now?" remarked Steve, finally.

"Go and find out," suggested Bandy-legs.

Whereupon Steve arose, stretched his cramped legs, and, going over to the
door, opened it. They saw him pass out, and as the trapper had started to
relate another of his deeply interesting experiences the boys devoted
their attention to him. But it was not three minutes later when Steve
came rushing into the cabin, his eyes filled with excitement, and his
voice raised to almost a shout as he cried out:

"Wolves; a whole pack of 'em comin' tearin' mad this way!"




CHAPTER III.

WHAT WOODCRAFT MEANT.


"Wolves! Oh, my gracious! You don't say!" cried Bandy-legs, making a dive
for the two sleeping bunks that Steve had built along one side of the
inside wall of the cabin.

Of course there was an immediate scurrying around. All the other boys
were on their feet instantly, even tired Toby with the rest.

Max instinctively threw a glance toward the corner where his faithful gun
stood. He did not jump to secure it, however, because something caused
him to first of all steal a quick look at Trapper Jim. When he discovered
that worthy with a broad smile upon his face, Max decided that after all
the danger could hardly be as severe as indications pointed.

Meanwhile Steve had managed to slam the door shut, and was holding it so
with his whole weight while he tried to adjust the bar properly in its
twin sockets.

Steve was trembling all over with excitement. A thing like this was apt
to stir him up tremendously.

"Why don't some of you lend a hand here?" he kept calling out. "Plague
take that clumsy old bar, won't it ever take hold? Get my gun for me,
can't you, Bandy-legs? Listen to the varmints a-tryin' to break in, would
you. Wow! Ain't they mad I fooled them, though? Say, I wonder now if
they'd think to get on the roof and come down the chimbly. Hand me my
gun, Bandy-legs! Get a move on you!"

By this time Jim was doubled up with laughter.

"Hold on you cannon-ball express boy," he remarked, as he stepped over
and began to take away the bar which Steve had managed to get in place
with so much trouble; "I guess we'll have to let these critters come in.
They look on Uncle Jim's cabin as their home."

"What, wolves!" gasped Steve.

"Well, hardly, but my two dogs, Ajax and Don," replied the trapper. "You
see, I didn't want them along when I borrowed that buckboard and team to
fetch you all here. So I left 'em with a neighbor three miles off, and
told him to set 'em loose to-night. So you thought they were wolves, did
you, Steve? Well, I guess they look somethin' that way, and the moonlight
was a little deceivin', too."

With that he threw open the door.

Immediately a couple of shaggy dogs bounded in and began barking
furiously as they jumped up at their master, showing all the symptoms of
great joy.

"Sho, one'd think they hadn't seen me for a whole month, instead of only
a few hours," laughed Trapper Jim, as he fondled the dogs.

Then the five boys in turn were introduced, as gravely as though Ajax and
Don might be human beings.

"They're quick to catch on," remarked Trapper Jim. "They know now you're
all friends of mine, and you can depend on 'em to stand by you through
thick and thin."

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