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Boy Scouts in a Trapper's Camp

<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2> <h3>A DEER YARD</h3> "Would you fellows like to visit a deer yard?" Pat asked at breakfast the next morning when the subject of the day's program had been brought up. "Would we!" Upton fairly shouted it. "Say, Pat, do you mean that there is a really, truly sure enough deer yard anywhere near here? I've read about 'em, and I'd give all my old shoes to see one." "Right O, my fine bucko! You shall see one, and it won't cost you so much as a shoestring," replied Pat. "It's not over a mile from camp, and on the ridge just above it is one of those deadfalls for bear that Alec built last fall. We'll take that in and kill two birds with one stone if you say so. There are some marten traps on that same ridge that I want to have a look at. What do you say, Alec?" "Verra good," replied Alec. "You show the laddies the yard and look over that line, and I'll take the short line east. We'll get back here by noon and this afternoon we can show them some other sets." To this plan the others agreed with enthusiasm and preparations for an immediate start were begun. "Shall we take rifles?" asked Hal eagerly. "For what?" demanded Pat. "We be going to visit a deer yard, and 'twould be tempting fate and flying in the face of Providence to let such a bloodthirsty young gintleman in among the poor cratures with a gun in his hands." Hal joined in the laugh at his expense and then added rather lamely: "We might run across that silver fox." "And we might jump over the moon. The one is as likely as the other," retorted Pat. So the guns were left at the cabin. Pat led the way straight to the ridge on which Spud Ely had missed his first chance to get a buck in the fall, but instead of climbing the ridge worked along the foot of it, skirting a swamp. They followed the edge of this for some distance and then abruptly turned into it. The growth was dense in places, with thickets of young hemlocks which afforded both warmth and shelter in severe weather. Almost at once they came to a deeply trodden path which led them presently to a maze of paths running in all directions. "Here we are," said Pat. Sparrer's face was a study. "Where's de yard?" he asked. "All around here," replied Pat with a comprehensive sweep of his arm, "wherever you see these paths." Then, a sudden light breaking over him, he added, "Did you expect to find a fence around it, son?" Sparrer grinned, not at all embarrassed by the general laugh and perfectly willing to confess his ignorance. "All de yards ever Oi seen had fences round 'em. Oi thought a fence was what made a yard," he confessed. "Not a deer yard," replied Pat. "A deer yard is a place where the deer tramp out paths in the snow and spend the winter. It is made where they get both shelter and food. When the first deep snow comes they collect in such a place and start the paths while browsing for food. Then as the snow gets deeper they follow the same paths because it is easier going, and make new paths only when they have to to reach new food supplies. By continually using these paths they keep them open and manage to pick up a living browsing on twigs and pawing down to the ground moss. By the time the heaviest snows come they can't very well get out if they want to, especially when there is a crust like this. You see some of those paths are two to three feet deep. The more plentiful the feed and the smaller the herd the smaller the yard. Before there were any laws to protect deer and moose they used to be slaughtered in the yards by trappers and lumber jacks because it is no trick at all for a man on snow-shoes to run them down. Once get them frightened so that they break out of the yard and they can be run down in no time. There's a deal of poaching goes on now when a yard is discovered near a lumber camp. It's just plain murder and nothing less. I've known a whole family of moose, bull, cow, yearling and calf, to be wiped out in one day by a bloody-minded game-hog. Didn't even waste a shot on the calf, but ran it down and cut its throat. Red Pete, the brute Walt helped to put in the pen the first year he came up here, used to make a business of locating deer yards and keeping lumber camps supplied with fresh meat all winter. The poor critters haven't even a running chance for their lives." "Oi hope we'll be able to lamp some. Oi wud loike to put me peepers on a real live wild deer before we go home," said Sparrer, his eyes shining with suppressed excitement. "I guess I can promise you that, my son," replied Pat. "We'll separate here. Sparrer and I will work off to leeward, Hal will keep straight ahead and Walt will swing to windward. If you two start any they will work over to us and give Sparrer a chance to see em. Yell if you start any. I reckon you'll find 'em pretty tame. They haven't been bothered here and they know as well as we do that the law protects 'em now. Watch for fresh sign and follow it up." They separated as suggested, Hal and Walter moving slowly so as to give Pat and Sparrer time to gain a good position. Walter swung well to the windward side. Of course this meant that his chances of getting a close view of any deer which might be on his side of the yard were comparatively slim. They would wind him and at once move on. He was in effect a driver for the others. But he didn't mind this. Wild deer were no new sight to him, and he was only too anxious to give Sparrer the pleasure which he knew a glimpse of Peaked-toes in the freedom of his native woods would be. He chose what appeared to be one of the most used paths and followed this as quietly as he could. He soon found that still hunting on snow-shoes and with moccasined feet on bare ground were two very different matters. He was not yet sufficiently adept on the big webs to keep them from clacking as the rim of one shoe passed over the rim of the other. The harder he tried not to the more noise he made, it seemed. Clack, clack, clack. It was most annoying. He stopped to consider. Then on the impulse of a sudden idea he slipped his shoes off and dropped down into the path he had been following. Here he could walk without noise. The droppings of the deer, known as "sign" by all hunters, were numerous, and the brush within reach from the path showed indications of having been browsed on recently, and he found several places where sharp hoofs had pawed away the snow since the last storm. The path twisted and turned and doubled on itself, showing that it had been made originally by aimless wandering in quest of food. Other paths crossed it, but Walter avoided these, judging that the one he was on was as likely as another to lead him to the quarry. At length after an abrupt turn it led straight into a thicket of hemlocks, young growth. As he approached this there was a sharp sound like the sudden release of compressed air, repeated a second later from a point a trifle to the right. It was the alarm warning of deer. Above the snow just to the right of and beyond the thicket he caught a glimpse of the heads and necks of two does moving rapidly. The effect was most peculiar. It was as if they possessed no bodies until one of them made a high jump for just an instant, bringing the back and rump, with its snowy white flag stiffly erect, into view. "From the way they go I should think it was the hunting season. I had an idea that they wouldn't be particularly timid, but those two lit out in a regular panic. Act like they'd been hunted until their nerves were all on edge," thought the boy as he hurriedly forced his way through the thicket. He had no expectation of finding more there, but was eager to see where the two had been lying and then to follow them up as rapidly as possible. So he burst through the screen of hemlocks in rather precipitate fashion, an unusual proceeding for Upton, whose natural caution had been supplemented by a very thorough training in woodcraft during the three summers he had spent at Woodcraft Camp. The instant he was through the barrier he realized the folly of his action. Facing him, not ten feet away, was a big buck with a splendid pair of antlers. <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/illus3.jpg" alt=""/></div> <h3>NOT TEN FEET AWAY WAS A BIG BUCK</h3> <hr style="width: 65%;" /> If the does were panic stricken their lord was not. On the contrary he was the embodiment of vicious anger. The hair on his neck was raised, his eyes blazed with rage; and he was pawing the snow with impatience. These details were registered on Walter's mind to be recalled later, but at the time he was conscious of but one thing—that he had stumbled into a predicament which might easily cost him his life. No sooner was he clearly in view than the buck charged. Telling of it at the cabin that night Upton declared that in that fleeting instant it seemed to him that he was staring at a whole forest of horns pointed straight for him. Intuition is subconscious direction without the aid of conscious thought and is usually the result of wisely directed thinking in the past. As a Scout Upton had tried to train himself to meet emergencies, to be prepared, and it was the result of this training that governed him now. Dropping his snow-shoes he leaped aside. Fortunately the snow had been trampled down for a sufficient space at this point to allow of this. As it was the buck swept past so close as to almost graze his clothing. Indeed so narrow had been the margin that the shoes, released as he jumped, fell directly in front of the infuriated animal and the brow antlers pierced the meshes of one of them. It was this lucky circumstance which was Upton's salvation. For a few minutes the buck's attention was wholly engaged with this new adversary which banged against his nose, obscured his vision and clung to him in such inexplicable fashion. He tried to back away from it, but in vain. Then he plunged forward and sought to grind it into the snow, with the result that he only fixed it more firmly on his antlers. In vain he struck at it with his feet. The dangling tail offered nothing on which to get a purchase. Fear now began to replace rage. Here was an enemy that would neither fight nor run away. Nor could he in turn run away from it. Meanwhile Walter had made the most of his opportunity. But a few feet distant was a young hemlock tree. Floundering through the snow he reached this and scrambled up. It was a small tree, and his perch was none too secure, and anything but comfortable for an extended stay. But it meant safety for the time being, and just then this was everything. With a sigh of thankfulness he turned his attention to the scene below, and his sense of humor for the moment overcame everything else. The buck was plainly being worsted in his battle with the snow-shoe, and was working himself into a panic. His great eyes were wide with fright as he backed and plunged and vainly reared in an effort to strike with his forefeet. With every toss of his head the tail of the shoe rapped him sharply across his nose, adding injury to insult. It was so funny that Walter fairly shouted with laughter, and the sound of his voice added to the terror of the frantic animal. With a desperate leap sidewise in an effort to get clear of his tormentor he landed in the deep snow, his sharp hoofs cutting through the crust. Then followed a succession of floundering plunges which took him still further into trouble until at last, panting from fright and the result of his efforts, he was forced to cease his struggles from sheer weariness. It was then that Upton thought seriously of his own plight. The buck was not much more helpless than he himself without his shoes. One lay below him in the snow, somewhat the worse for the trampling of the buck during his wild plunging. This he could retrieve without trouble or danger. But the other was still fast on those uncomfortably sharp horns, and he was of no mind to make a closer acquaintance with them unaided. It was then that he remembered that in the subsequent excitement he had failed to give the view hallo when he had started the does and thus warn the others that game was afoot. A yell now would mean to the others merely that they were to be on the watch for deer headed their way unless they were near enough to distinguish words, which he much doubted. Then he remembered the whistle which he always carried and the emergency call for help of the Blue Tortoise Patrol. Both Hal and Sparrer would recognize and understand that. Somehow it seemed less a compromise of dignity than yelling for help. He raised the whistle to his lips and blew the signal, waited five seconds and blew again. A minute later he heard a reply from a lesser distance than he had expected, followed almost at once by another which was rendered fainter by distance. "Reached both of 'em," he muttered complacently. "Hal isn't so far away as I was afraid he might be. Guess I better tell them what the trouble is." With the whistle he spelled out in the Morse code "T-r-e-e-d b-y a b-u-c-k w-a-t-c-h o-u-t." Back came the double reply "O. K.," followed by Hal's voice in a long drawn "Hello-o-o." Shouting occasionally to give the others the direction Upton climbed down from his perch, recovered the one shoe and then waited with such patience as he could. Hal was soon within easy shouting distance and the anxiety in his voice as he inquired if Upton was all right was very evident. Set at rest on this point he whooped joyously and Upton grinned ruefully. "This will be nuts for Hal. He'll never let me hear the end of it. I'm glad he didn't see me up the tree," he thought. Aloud he warned Hal not to come too near, but to wait until the others came up. While he felt that the buck was so bedded in the snow as to be practically harmless he wanted no chances taken. A few minutes later Pat and Sparrer came up, panting with the exertion of their long run, and the circumstances were briefly explained. Pat took in the situation at a glance and his eyes danced with enjoyment, and all three began to chaff Walter unmercifully. But there was little time for this just then. The coming up of the others had further alarmed the buck, who had recovered wind and strength to some degree, and was now renewing his efforts to escape. Pat ordered Hal to circle around and head off the animal, while he himself came up from behind and endeavored to free the shoe. Sparrer was to stand by in case of need and render any assistance he could. Upton was to stay where he was. Indeed there was nothing else for him to do, as once in the deep snow he would be more helpless than the deer. The latter was still floundering forward and there were stains of red on the crust where it had cut the slender legs. As Hal appeared in front of him, whooping excitedly, the buck ceased his struggling and stood shoulder deep in the snow, his sides heaving and his steaming nostrils quivering as he labored for breath. "Poor thing! He hasn't got another kick in him," Hal exclaimed, drawing so near that he could reach out and touch the slender muzzle. "Don't be too sure of that, me bye. Betther shtand back a bit," warned Pat coming up from the animal's rear and leaning forward to get hold of the shoe. Hardly were the words out of his mouth when the buck flung his head up and back. The tail of the shoe flew up, striking Hal a sharp blow on the side of his head. Instinctively he jumped back, forgetting that he was on snow-shoes. The result was immediate and decisive. With a wild yell he pitched backward and disappeared in the snow. At the same instant Pat grabbed the buck's horns, one with each hand, and straddling his back called for Sparrer to free the shoe. This Sparrer succeeded in doing after a few minutes' struggle and then turned his attention to Hal, whose muffled cries of "Help! Take him away!" bore evidence to the fact that he was under the impression that the buck had knocked him down and was trying to trample him. In fact it was hard work to convince him that this was not the case until with Sparrer's help he regained his feet and got the snow out of his eyes sufficiently to see Pat struggling with the deer. As soon as Hal and Sparrer were at a safe distance Pat let go and joined the others, breathing heavily from his exertions. The deer, freed of the hateful thing which had clung to his head and been the cause of all his troubles, turned and with awkward jumps plunged back through the way he had broken in leaving the yard. Pat warned Walter to keep out of sight so as not to turn the animal into new difficulties, and presently they saw him reach the trodden paths of the yard and with a shake of his beautifully crowned head bound lightly away. Then while they took stock of damages Upton told his story. "An innocent babe in the woods," murmured Pat when Walter told how he had removed his shoes and taken to the deer paths. "If that had been a bull moose now instead of a buck 'tis loike yer frinds wud be weeping instead av laughing at ye this very minut." "That's true, Pat," replied Walter promptly. "It was a foolish thing to do, and I know it now. As it is you've got the laugh on me—and Hal," he added slyly. "How about it, Hal?" "Oh, it's on me too, all right," returned that young gentleman, rubbing the lump on his head. "I sure thought that brute was right on top of me." Pat meanwhile had brought out some stout twine and was making temporary repairs on the damaged shoes. Beyond some damage to the webbing where the horns had pierced it the one which had been the cause of the buck's discomfiture was as good as ever, but the frame of the other had been badly split by the sharp hoofs of the plunging animal. Bringing the broken parts together Pat wound them with the twine, and when he had finished pronounced the shoe fit for the trip back to the cabin, where he would undertake a more permanent job. "We won't visit those traps now," said he in spite of Walter's protest that he could go back while the others went on, and led the way homeward. <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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