The Banner Boy Scouts Snowbound

CHAPTER XV

TOLLY TIP AND THE FOREST CABIN

“Oh! that’s too bad!” exclaimed Spider Sexton, “I’ve been telling everybody we’d taste venison of our own killing while off on this trip, and there the first deer we’ve glimpsed gives us the merry ha-ha!”

“Rotten luck!” grumbled Jud Elderkin. “And me with a rifle gripped in my fist all the time. But I only had a glimpse of a brown object disappearing in the brush, and I never want to just wound a deer so it will suffer. That’s why I didn’t fire when I threw my gun up.”

“With me,” explained Jack Stormways, “it happened that Bluff here was just in my way when I had the chance to aim.”

“Well,” laughed Bobolink, “you might have shot straight through his head, because it’s a vacuum. I once heard a teacher tell him so when he failed in his lessons every day for a week.”

“Oh! there’s bound to be plenty of deer where you can see one so easily,” Paul told them, “so cheer up. Unless I miss my guess we’ll have all sorts of game to eat while up here in the snow woods. Abe said it was a big season for fur and feather this year.”

They kept plodding along and put more miles behind them. The moon now had to be relied on to afford them light, because the last of the sunset glow had departed from the western heavens.

Phil was beginning to feel very tired, and feared he would have to give up unless inside of another mile or two they arrived at their intended destination. Being a proud boy he detested showing any signs of weakness, and clinched his teeth more tightly together as he pressed on, keeping a little behind the rest, so that no one should hear his occasional groan.

All at once a glad cry broke out ahead, coming from Sandy Griggs, who at the moment chanced to be in the van.

“I reckon that’s a jolly big fire yonder, fellows, unless I miss my guess!” he told them.

“It is a fire, sure thing,” agreed Bobolink.

“Tolly Tip has been looking for us, it seems, and has built a roaring blaze out of doors to serve as a guide to our faltering steps!” announced Jud, pompously, although he could hardly have been referring to himself, for his pace seemed to be just as swift and bold as when he first set out.

“It’s less than half a mile away I should say, even with this crooked stream to navigate,” announced Bobolink, more to comfort Phil than anything else.

“Keep going right along, and don’t bother about me, I’m all right,” called the latter, cheerfully, from the rear.

In a short time the scouts drew near what proved to be a roaring fire built on the bank of the creek. They could see a man moving about, and he must have already heard their voices in the near distance for he was shading his eyes with his hand, and looking earnestly their way.

“Hello, Tolly Tip!” cried out the boisterous Bobolink. “Here we come, right-side up with care! How’s Mrs. Tip, and all the little Tips?”

This was only a boyish joke, for they had already been told by Mr. Garrity that the keeper of the hunting lodge was a jolly old bachelor. But Bobolink must have his say regardless of everything. They heard the trapper laugh as though he immediately fell in with the spirit of fun that these boys carried with them.

“He’s all right!” exclaimed Bobolink, on catching that boisterous laugh. “Who’s all right? Tolly Tip, the keeper of Deer Head Lodge, situated in Garrity Camp! For he’s a jolly good fellow, which none can deny!”

Amidst all this laughter and chatter the ten scouts arrived at the spot where the welcoming blaze awaited them, to receive a warm welcome from the queer, old fellow who took care of Mr. Garrity whenever the latter chose to hide away from his business vexations up here in the woods.

The boys could see immediately that Tolly Tip was about as queer as his name would indicate. At the same time they believed they would like him. His blue eyes twinkled with good humor, and he had a droll Irish brogue that was bound to add to the flavor of the stories they felt sure he had on the end of his tongue.

“Sure, it’s delighted I am to say the lot av yees this night,” he said as they came crowding around, each wanting to shake his hand fiercely. “Mr. Garrity towld me in the letther he was after sindin’ up with the tame that ye war a foine bunch av lads, that would be afther kapin’ me awake all right. And sure I do belave ’twill be so.”

“I hope we won’t bother you too much while we’re here,” said Paul, understanding what an energetic crowd he was piloting on this excursion.

“Ye couldn’t do the same if ye tried,” Tolly Tip declared, heartily. “I have to be alone most all the long winther, an’ it do be a great trate to hav’ some lively lads visit me for a s’ason. Fetch the packs along wid ye into the cabin. I want to make ye sorry for carrying all this stuff wid ye up here.”

His words mystified them until, having entered the capacious cabin built of hewn logs, with the chinks well filled with hard mortar, they were shown a wagonload of groceries which Mr. Garrity had actually taken secret pleasure in purchasing without letting the boys know anything about it.

A team had found its way across the miles of intervening woods, and delivered this magnificent present at the forest lodge. It was intended to be a surprise to the boys, and Mr. Garrity certainly overwhelmed them with his generosity.

Bobolink alone was seen to stand and gaze regretfully at the small edition of a grocery store, meanwhile shaking his head sorrowfully.

“What ails you, Bobolink?” demanded one of his chums.

“It can’t be done, no matter how many meals a day we try to make way with,” the other solemnly announced. “I’ve been calculating, and there’s enough stuff there to feed us a month. Then, besides, think of what we toted along. Shucks! why didn’t Nature make boys with India rubber stomachs.”

“Some fellows I happen to know have already been favored in that line,” hinted Tom Betts, maliciously; “but as for the rest of us, we have to get along with just the old-fashioned kind.”

“Cheer up, Bobolink,” laughed Paul; “what we can’t devour we’ll be only too glad to leave to our good friend Tolly Tip here. The chances are he’ll know what to do with everything so none of it will be wasted.”

“When a man who all his life has been as tightfisted as Mr. Garrity does wake up,” said Phil Towns, “he goes to the other extreme, and shames a lot of people who’ve been calling themselves charitable.”

“Oh! that’s because he has so much to make up, I guess,” explained Jud.

While some of the boys started in to get a good supper ready the others went around taking a look at the cabin in the snowy woods that was to be their home for the next twelve days.

It had been strongly built to resist the cold, though as a rule the owner did not come up here after the leaves were off the forest trees. A stove in one room could be used to keep it as warm as toast when foot-long lengths of wood were fed to its capacious maw. The fire in the big open hearth served to heat the other room, and over this the cooking was also done.

Several bunks gave promise of snug sleeping quarters. As these would accommodate only four it was evident that lots must be cast to see who the lucky quartette would prove to be.

“To-morrow,” said Paul, when speaking of this lack of accommodations, “one of the very first things we do will be to fix other bunks, because every scout should have a decent place for his bed. There’s plenty of room in here to make a regular scout dormitory of it.”

“Fine!” commented Tom Betts; “and those of us who draw the short straws can manage somehow with our blankets on the floor for one night, I guess.”

“We’ve all slept soundly on harder beds than that, let me tell you,” asserted Bobolink, “and for one I decline to draw a straw. Me for the soft side of a plank to-night, you hear.”

The other boys knew that Bobolink, in his generosity, really had in mind Phil and one or two more of the boys, not quite so accustomed to roughing it as others of the campers.

That supper, eaten under such novel surroundings, would long be remembered; for while these boys were old hands at camping, up to now they had never spent any time in the open while Jack Frost had his stamp on all nature, and the earth was covered with snow.

It was, all things considered, one of the greatest evenings in their lives.

CHAPTER XVI

THE FIRST NIGHT OUT

“Well, it’s started in to snow!”

Jud Elderkin made this surprising statement after he had gone to the door to take a peep at the weather.

“You must be fooling, Jud,” expostulated Tom, “because when I looked out not more’n fifteen minutes ago the moon was shining like everything.”

“All right, that may be, but she’s blanketed behind the clouds right now, and the snow’s coming down like fun,” asserted Jud.

“Seems that we didn’t get here any too soon, then,” chuckled Bluff.

“Oh! a little snow wouldn’t have bothered us any,” laughed Jack. “We’d never think of minding a heavy fall at home, and why should we worry now?”

“That’s a fact,” Bobolink went on to remark, with a look of solid satisfaction on his beaming face. “Plenty of wood under the shed near by, and enough grub to feed an army. We’re all right.”

After several of them had gone to verify Jud’s statement, and had brought back positive evidence in the shape of snowballs, the boys again clustered around the jolly fire and continued to talk on various subjects that chanced to interest them.

“I wonder now,” remarked Bobolink, finally, “if Hank took Mr. Briggs’ money as well as set fire to his store.”

As this was the first mention that had been made concerning this subject Tolly Tip showed considerable interest.

“Is it the ould storekeeper in Stanhope ye mane?” he asked. “Because I did me tradin’ with the same the short time I was in town, and sorry a bargain did I ever sacure from Misther Briggs.”

“Plenty of other people are in the same boat with you there, Tolly Tip,” Sandy told him with a chuckle. “But his run of good luck has met with a snag. Somebody set fire to his store, which was partly burned down the other night.”

“Yes, and the worst part of it,” added Bobolink, “was that Mr. Briggs accidentally, or on purpose, let his insurance policy lapse, so that he can get no damages on account of this fire.”

“And the last thing we heard before coming away,” Phil Towns went on to say, “was that the safe had been broken open and robbed. Poor old Levi Briggs’ cup is full to overflowing I guess. Everything seems to be coming his way in a bunch.”

“I suspect that this Hank ye’re tillin’ me about must be a wild harum-scarum broth av a boy thin?” remarked the old woodsman, puffing at his pipe contentedly.

“He is the toughest boy in town,” said Phil.

“And several others train with him who aim to beat his record if they can,” Spider Sexton hastened to add as his contribution.

“There’s absolutely nothing they wouldn’t try if they thought they could get some fun or gain out of it,” declared Jud emphatically.

“Do till!” exclaimed their host, shaking his head dolefully as though he disliked knowing that any boys could sink to such a low level.

“Why, only the other day,” said Bobolink, “Jack and I saw the gang pick on a couple of tramps who had just come out of Briggs’ store. So far as we knew the hoboes hadn’t offered to say a word to Hank and his crowd, but the fellows ran them out of town with a shower of stones. Didn’t they, Jack?”

“Yes. And we saw one tramp get a hard blow on the head from a rock, in the bargain,” assented Jack.

“Wow! but they were a mad pair, let me tell you,” concluded Bobolink.

“By the same token,” observed Tolly Tip, “till me av one of the tramps had on an ould blue army coat wid rid linin’ to the same?”

Bobolink uttered an exclamation of surprise.

“Just what he did, I give you my word!” he replied hastily.

“And was the other chap a long-legged hobo, wid a face that made ye think av the sharp idge av a hatchet?” the old trapper questioned.

“I reckon you must have seen the pair yourself, Tolly Tip!” observed Bobolink. “Were you in Stanhope, or did they happen to pass this way?”

At that the taker of furs touched his cheek just below his eye with the tip of his finger, and smiled humorously.

“’Tis the black eye they were afther giving me early this day, sure it was,” he explained. “Not two miles away from here it happened, where the road cuts through the woods like a knife blade. I’d been out to look at a few traps set in that section whin I kim on the spalpeens. We had words, and the shorter chap wid the army coat ran, but the other engaged me. Before he cut stick he managed to lave the imprission av his fists on me face, bad luck to the same.”

“I guess after all, Jack,” remarked Bobolink, “they must be a couple of hard cases, and Hank did the town a service when he chased them off.”

“It would be the first time on record then that the Lawson crowd was of any benefit to the community,” Jack commented; “but accidents will happen, you know. They didn’t mean to do a good turn, only have what they call fun.”

“So the shorter rascal didn’t have any fight in him, it seems, Tolly Tip?” Bobolink observed, as though the subject interested him considerably.

“Oh! as for that,” replied the trapper, “mebbe he do be afther thinkin’ discretion was the better part av valor. Ye say, he had one av his hands wrapped up in a rag, and I suspect he must have been hurt.”

“That’s interesting, at any rate!” declared Bobolink. “When we saw him he had the use of both hands. Something must have happened after that. I wonder what.”

“You’re the greatest fellow to wonder I ever knew,” laughed Sandy Griggs.

“Bobolink likes to grapple with mysteries,” said Jud, “and from now on he’ll keep bothering his head about that tramp’s injured hand, wanting to know whether he cut himself with a broken bottle, or burned his fingers when cooking his coffee in an old tomato can over the campfire.”

“Let Bobolink alone, boys,” said Paul. “If he chooses to amuse himself in that way what’s the odds? Who knows but what he may surprise us with a wonderful discovery some day.”

“Thank you, Paul,” the other remarked drily.

After that the subject was dropped. It did not offer much of interest to the other scouts, but Paul, glancing towards Bobolink several times, could easily see that he was pondering over something.

After all, the snow did not last long. Before they finally went to bed they found that the moon had once more appeared through a rift in the clouds, and not more than two inches of fresh snow had covered the ground.

There was considerable skirmishing around done when the boys commenced to make their final preparations for spending the first night in their winter camp. No one would think of taking Tolly Tip’s bunk when he generously offered it, and so straws were drawn for the remaining three, as well as the cot upon which Mr. Garrity slept when up at his Deer Head Lodge.

The fortunate ones turned out to be Paul, Bluff, Frank and Bobolink, though the last mentioned declared positively that he preferred sleeping on the floor as a novelty, and insisted that Phil Towns occupy his bunk.

They managed to make themselves comfortable after a fashion, though the appearance of the “dormitory” excited considerable laughter, with the boys sprawled out in every direction.

All of the boys were up early, and they were eager to take up the many plans they had laid out for the day. Breakfast was the first thing on the calendar; and while it was being prepared and dispatched the tongues of that half score of boys ran on like the water over the wheel of the old mill, with a constant clatter.

There was no necessity for all of them to remain at home to work on the new bunks, so Paul picked out several to assist him in that work. The others were at liberty to carry out such scout activities as most appealed to their fancy. Some planned to go off with the woodsman to see how he managed with his steel traps, by means of which, during the winter, he expected to lay by quite a good-sized bundle of valuable fur. Then there was wood to chop, pictures to be taken, favorable places to be found for setting the camera during a coming night so as to get a flashlight view of a fox or a mink in the act of stealing the bait, as well as numerous other pleasant duties and diversions, all of which had been eagerly planned for the preceding night as the boys sat before the crackling fire.

CHAPTER XVII

“TIP-UPS” FOR PICKEREL

Tom Betts came up from the frozen creek.

“I don’t believe that little snow ought to keep us from trying the scheme we laid out between us, Jack,” he said, looking entreatingly at the other.

“Why, no, there wasn’t enough to hurt the skating,” replied the other, readily, much to Tom’s evident satisfaction.

“Bully for you, Jack!” he exclaimed. “There was more or less wind blowing at the time, and the snow was pretty dry, so it blew off the ice. We can easily make the lake in an hour I reckon, with daylight to help us. Besides, we know the way by this time, you see.”

“All right!” called out Frank, who had been detailed to assist Paul in the making of the extra bunks out of some spare boards that lay near by, having been brought into the woods for some purpose, though never used.

“Remember, you two fishermen,” warned Paul, “we’ll all have our mouths set for pickerel to-night, so don’t dare disappoint us, or there will be a riot in the camp.”

“We’ve just got to get those fish, Jack,” said Tom, with mock solemnity, “even if we have to go in ourselves after them. Our lives wouldn’t be worth a pinch of salt in this crowd if they had to go pickerelless to-night.”

“Oh! that’ll do! Be off with you!” roared Jud Elderkin, making out to throw a frying-pan at Tom’s head.

When at the lake talking to the man who had agreed to look after their iceboats during their absence, the boys had learned that there was fine fishing through the ice to be had at this season of the year.

Abe Turner had also informed them that should they care to indulge in the sport at any time, and should skate down to his cabin, he would show them just how it was done. What was more to the point, he had a store of live minnows in a spring-hole that never froze up, even in the hardest winter, he had been told.

This then was the object that drew the two scouts, both of them exceedingly fond of fishing in every way. None of the boys had ever fished through the ice, it happened, though they knew how it was done.

Accordingly, Tom and Jack set off down the creek, their skate runners sending back that clear ringing sound that is music in the ears of every lad who loves the outdoor sports of winter.

Jack carried his gun along. Not that he had any particular intention of hunting, for others had taken that upon themselves as a part of the day’s routine, but then a deer might happen to cross their path, and such a chance if it came would be too good to lose.

“You see,” commented Tom, after a mile or so had been placed to their credit, “the snow isn’t going to bother us the least bit. And I never enjoyed skating any better than right now.”

“Same here,” Jack told him. “And we certainly couldn’t find ourselves surrounded by a prettier scene, with every twig covered with snow.”

“Listen!”

Both of them stopped when Tom called in this fashion, and strained their ears to catch a repetition of the sound Tom had heard.

“Oh! that’s only a fox barking,” said Jack. “I’ve heard them do it many a time. You know they belong to the dog family, just as the wolf and jackal and hyena do. Tolly Tip has a couple of fox pelts already, and he says they are very numerous this year. Come on, let’s be moving again.”

So they pursued their winding way down the straggling creek, first turning to the right and then to the left.

“It’s been just an hour since we left camp,” remarked Jack at length, “and there you can catch a glimpse of the lake through the trees yonder.”

Abe Turner was surprised as well as pleased to find two of the boys at his door that morning.

“Didn’t expect us back so soon, did you, Abe?” laughed Tom. “But in laying out the plans for to-day we found that some of the boys were fish hungry, so we decided to run down and take you up on your proposition.”

“Nothing would please me better,” Abe told them. “And it is about as good a day for ice fishing as anybody’d want to set eyes on. I’ll go right away and get my lines. Then we’ll pick up a pail, and put some of my minnows in it.”

Before long they were out upon the ice of Lake Tokala, Tom carrying an axe, Jack the various lines and “tip-ups” that were to signal when a fish had been hooked, and Abe with the live bait in a tin bucket.

The day was not a bitterly cold one, and this promised to make fishing agreeable work.

“On the big lakes where they do a heap of this kind of work,” explained their guide as they went toward Cedar Island, “the men build little shanties out on the ice, where they can keep fairly warm. You see sometimes the weather is terribly cold. But a day like this makes it a pleasure to be out.”

Coming to a place where Abe knew from previous experience that a good haul could be made, the first hole was cut in the ice. As winter was still young this did not prove to be a hard task.

Abe had marked a dozen places where these holes were to be chopped, but the boys chose to watch him set his first line. After the novelty had worn off they would be ready to take a hand themselves.

There are many sorts of “tip-ups” used in this species of sport, but Abe’s kind answered all purposes and was very simple, being possibly the original “tip-up.”

He would take a branch that had a certain kind of fork as thick around as his little finger. In cutting this he left two short “feet” and one long one. To Tom’s mind it looked something like an old-fashioned cannon, with the line securely tied to the short projecting muzzle.

When the fish took hold this point was pulled down, with the result that the longer “tail” shot up into the air, the outstretched legs preventing the fork from being drawn into the hole.

At the end of the long “tail” Abe had fastened a small piece of red flannel. When a dozen lines were out it often kept a man busy running this way and that to attend to the numerous calls as signaled by the upraised red flags.

“Now that we know just how it’s done,” said Tom, after they had seen the bait fastened to the hook and dropped into the lake, “we’ll get busy cutting all those other holes. My turn next, Jack, you remember. Watch my smoke.”

They had hardly finished the second hole before they heard Abe laughing, and glancing toward him discovered that he was holding up a two-pound, struggling pickerel.

“First blood for Abe!” cried Tom. “But if they keep on biting it’ll be our chance soon, Jack. My stars! but that is a beaut, though. A dozen like that would make the boys stare, I tell you.”

When Abe had arranged four lines he would not hear of the boys cutting any more holes.

“I’ll dig out a couple to make an even half dozen,” he told them. “And the way the pike are biting to-day I reckon we’ll get a good mess.”

“All right, then,” agreed Tom, much relieved, for he wanted to be pulling in the fish rather than doing the drudgery. “I’ll look after these two holes, Jack, and you skirmish around the others. And by jinks! if I haven’t got one right now!”

“The same here,” shouted the equally excited Jack. “Whew! how he does pull though! Must be a whopper this time. I hope I don’t lose him!”

Fortune favored the ice fishermen, for both captives were saved, and they proved to be even larger than the first one taken.

So the fun went on. At times it slackened more or less, only to begin again with new momentum. The pile of fish on the ice, rapidly freezing, once they were exposed to the air, increased until at noon they had all they could think of carrying home.