Chapter XIV: Tom’s Scheme

“Roll out of the way, Jack! Roll out of the way!” yelled Tom, as soon as the smoke had cleared from his line of vision, and he could see the result of his shot. The tawny beast was writhing on the ground in its final struggle, close to the prostrate youth.

“Jack! Jack! Wake up!” cried Bert.

There was no need for the last injunction, for Jack had sat up with a start at the report of the rifle.

“Look out that he doesn’t claw you!” shouted Dick, and then Jack became aware of the cause of the commotion.

“Roll to one side!” Tom again called, and his chum understood.

It was probably the only thing that could have saved him, even after Tom’s lucky shot, for the beast still had plenty of fight left in him, and doubtless associated the pain he suffered with the youth on whom he had been about to leap. The creature was trying to reach Jack.

But if the latter could not spring up and run, because of his injured leg, he could roll to good advantage, and this he proceeded to do as soon as he saw the need of it.

Over and over he went, like some living log, down toward the lake shore, and away from the struggling beast.

“Give him another bullet, Tom!” cried Bert. “Finish him off now.”

“Here goes!” exclaimed our hero, and from the muzzle of his repeater he pumped another leaden missile into the brute. He had a clear view now, with Jack out of the way.

The animal sprang into the air, fell back, quivered convulsively, and then lay still. The second bullet had ended its misery.

Tom, Bert and Dick ran up.

“He’s done for,” remarked Bert.

“Stop rolling, Jack!” suddenly called Tom, “or you’ll be in the lake,” for his chum, being unable to see the result of the shot, still imagined himself in danger, and was approaching the water.

At Tom’s call, however, he slacked up in his queer method of progress, and arose to his feet.

“That was a close call,” said Jack, as he limped up to the others. “Who did the business for our savage friend there?” and he kicked the carcass.

“Tom did. You might have known it,” answered Bert.

“I just happened to,” said our hero modestly. “I was in the lead, and saw it first. Then I fired.”

“And a good job for you that he did,” remarked Dick.

“Thanks,” said Jack, fervently, and his hand and that of Tom met in a firm clasp.

“What sort of a beast is it, anyhow?” asked Bert, as he surveyed the tawny body.

“A lynx, and a big one, too,” declared Dick, who knew something about animals. “They’re as savage as a wildcat when they’re hungry, and this one probably thought Jack would make a good meal.”

“I never heard a thing until the shot,” explained Tom’s chum. “I was sleeping soundly and I thought it was a clap of thunder. Jove! If you hadn’t come along!” and he shuddered.

“Well, shall we take it back to camp with us?” asked Bert.

“I’d like to,” spoke Tom, “but it’s a hard job to skin it in hot weather, and I’m afraid I couldn’t keep the hide. Besides the fur isn’t in very good condition. I guess we’ll just leave it where it is.”

Then, after a rest on shore, and talking over the incident, they got in the boat, Tom taking the big owl he had shot, and started back for their camp.

The next day they went off on another trip, exploring the woods and hills around the lake. They did more fishing, and looked for something to shoot, but saw nothing.

“But there hasn’t any more bacon disappeared,” said Dick one morning, as he was frying some for breakfast.

“No, I guess we got the lynx that took it,” said Tom. “I thought I detected the odor of fried bacon and eggs on him,” he added with a smile.

But if they imagined they were to be free from the prowlers of the woods they were mistaken, for, a few nights later, they were awakened by a noise near the place where they threw the odds and ends from their kitchen--empty tins, bits of food and the like.

“Something’s out there,” called Tom, as he and the others awoke.

“The hermit, maybe,” suggested Jack.

“He wouldn’t make as much noise as that,” said Tom. “I’m going to take a look.”

He got down a low-burning lantern from where it hung in the space between the two tents, turned it up, and flashed it from the entrance in the direction of the refuse pile.

As he did so he and the others saw a black body rear up, and then they heard a menacing growl, while something big and clumsy lumbered off in the darkness.

“A bear!” cried Jack. “A bear as sure as you’re alive! Take a shot, somebody!”

Dick was the first to grab his gun, and, taking the best aim he could, he pulled the trigger. Following the flash and the report the boys heard a yelp as of pain.

“You winged him!” cried Bert. “Come on, we can get him!”

He would have rushed from the tent, lightly clad as he was, had not Tom grabbed him.

“Hold on,” urged our hero. “Don’t do anything rash.”

“Why not?”

“Because that bear--if that’s what it was--is far enough off by now. And besides, he’s probably only wounded. Dick’s gun doesn’t carry a heavy enough bullet to fetch a bear down in one shot, unless it went right into the brain. And again, you’re not exactly dressed for a tramp through the woods at midnight,” and Tom glanced at his friend’s bare feet. “Wait until morning,” he advised, “and maybe we can trail him.”

Morning showed them some drops of blood, and marks in the soft earth that were undoubtedly the tracks of a big bear.

“Oh, if we can only get him!” exclaimed Dick, with enthusiasm. “Maybe he’s worse wounded than we think.”

But though they tramped about nearly all that day they did not come upon any traces of bruin, and they had to give up the chase, though they did so reluctantly.

“Well, Tom,” remarked Jack that night, as they sat about the campfire after supper, “this isn’t treasure-hunting very fast.”

“No, that’s so. I’ve been sort of holding off, hoping I’d happen to think of some solution to that plan, but I haven’t. How about you fellows?”

“Nothing doing as far as I’m concerned,” said Jack, as he limped over to the water pail. He was much better and the soreness was almost gone.

“Two more to hear from,” suggested Tom.

“I can’t think of anything,” admitted Bert, and Dick confessed to the same thing.

“Then I’ll tell you what we’ll do,” proposed Tom. “We’ll take another trip to the old mill.”

“And do what?” asked Jack.

“We’ll take the plan with us, and try to see if, by looking at the structure itself, and, then the plan, we can come to any solution. It may be we might hit on some secret room, or something like that.”

“What about the old hermit?” asked Dick. “He’ll be furious if he catches us there.”

“Well, we’ll watch our chance, and go in the mill when we’re sure he’s out,” went on Tom. “Then we won’t all go in. We’ll leave someone outside to give the alarm in case he comes. How do you like my plan?”

“Good!” cried Jack; and the others agreed with him.

“Then we’ll start in the morning,” decided Tom.