At the sound of Pat's roar the three guests hastily tumbled out of their bunks1 with answering greetings. A cheerful fire blazed up the chimney and added its flickering3 light to that of a couple of candles, for the sun was not yet up. Alec was cutting bacon and Pat was mixing flapjack batter4.
"Breakfast will be ready in fifteen minutes, and the one who isn't ready goes hungry," he announced.
"It won't be yours truly," declared Hal, reaching for his clothes.
"My tummy, oh, my tummy!
It gives me such a pain!
I wonder will it ever——
"Say, who swiped one of my socks? I can't find but one, and I left 'em together." He began to toss things left and right in search of the missing article.
Meanwhile Upton was down on his knees fumbling5 under his bunk2. At Hal's complaint he looked up suspiciously. "I can't find one of mine," he sputtered6. "Somebody's been putting up a job on us. Hi! What the——" He finished by pointing toward the fireplace.
Hal looked. There hung his missing sock. Also one of Upton's and one of Sparrer's, all three misshapen and bulging7.
"Ut would not be Christmas an' we did not hang the childer's stockings," announced Pat gravely.
With a whoop8 the three boys fell on the stockings. Entering into the spirit of the occasion they seated themselves on the floor in front of the fire and pulled out the contents as gleefully as ever they had emptied Christmas stockings at home in their younger days. The gifts were trifling9 in themselves, but the better for that very fact. There were little packages of spruce-gum, a carved paper-knife, a tiny birch-bark canoe, whistles made from buck's horn, a rabbit's foot charm, and other knickknacks of the woods. Pat's voice broke into the midst of the babel produced by the discovery of the socks and their contents. "Five minutes for those who want breakfast," he announced.
Instantly there was a mad scramble11 to finish dressing12 and when time was up it was evident that no one proposed to go hungry that Christmas morning. During the meal it was decided13 that Alec should remain at camp to prepare for the grand feast while the others went in search of rabbits. Walter and Hal, knowing the surrounding country, were to go each on his own hook while Pat would take Sparrer with him. Just before starting the two former held a whispered conference. They had brought in with them a few gifts for Pat and his partner and also some small packages which the home folks had pledged them not to open until Christmas day. At Hal's suggestion it was decided to say nothing about these until night and spring them as a surprise at the Christmas tree on which Hal had set his heart.
As Pat had foreseen, there was a crust on which the shoes made no impression. Hal elected to go down the north side of the brook15 while Upton took the opposite side. Pat and Sparrer were to visit a certain swamp not far distant. All were to be back at the cabin by eleven o'clock.
To Upton the tramp in that wonderful wilderness16 of glistening17 white meant far more than the hunt. As a matter of fact the very thought of killing18 anything amid such pure surroundings was repugnant to him. To this feeling a big white hare which foolishly sat up to stare at him within fifteen minutes after he had left the cabin undoubtedly19 owed its life. Slowly the rifle had been raised until the sights rested squarely between the two innocent staring eyes. Then it had been as slowly lowered. "I can't do it, puss. The others will get all we need to eat, I guess, so suppose you remove your pretty self from the range of temptation," said he, taking a sudden forward step. Thereupon puss promptly20 acted upon his advice, and so precipitately21 that Upton laughed aloud. "Merry Christmas!" he shouted as the bounding white form disappeared.
That decided him. His heart was not in hunting that morning. What he did want to do was just to tramp and drink in the beauty of the wonderful scene. His rifle was a nuisance. He wished that he had not brought it at all. Why not cache it and pick it up on his way back? A hasty survey of his surroundings discovered a fire blackened hollow stub split its full length on one side. It was the very thing he was looking for. It was a landmark23 he could not very well miss on his return. He put his rifle in it, tightened24 his belt, and then deliberately25 turned his back on the valley and headed for the top of the ridge26. He was in quest of views, and not of game.
Climbing a ridge on a snow crust is no child's play, as Walter soon found out. It sometimes seemed as if he slipped back two feet for every one he gained. He tried taking off the shoes, only to find that in sheltered places he broke through and was worse off than on the slipping shoes. But he was grimly resolved that he would get to the top of the ridge, cost him what it might. It was characteristic of the boy that what he set out to do he did. So he ground his teeth and kept at it, slipping, scrambling27, pulling himself up by brush and trees. After a little he discovered that by zigzagging28 back and forth29 along the face of the slope and taking advantage of every little inequality he could make fairly good progress.
Still it took an hour and a half of strenuous30 work to gain the coveted31 top of the ridge, and he was thoroughly32 winded and weary, to say nothing of sundry33 bruises34 and scratches from frequent falls. Panting and perspiring35 he turned to look back. Below him lay Smugglers' Hollow, but how different from the Hollow into which he had gazed for the first time in September! It was not less lonely or less wild. In fact if anything these features were accentuated37. The mountains which seemed to enclose it on all sides were no less heroically grand and rugged38, but they had been robbed in a measure of their forbidding, somber39 gloom by the transforming mantle40 of snow. The heavy stand of spruce on the opposite mountain no longer cloaked it with the shadows of night like a perpetual threat of evil. Each tree was a pyramid of myriad41 gems42 flashing in the sun.
He could trace the course of the frozen brook through the heart of the Hollow, a ribbon of white, smooth and unbroken, between the fringe of alders43 on either side. He could see the cabin, or rather the roof and eaves, for the cabin itself was nearly buried in a drift. From the chimney a thin pencil of blue smoke rose straight up in the still air. It was the one thing needed. It in no way marred44 the grandeur45 of the scene, but it saved it from utter desolation. Something of this sort flitted vaguely46 through Upton's mind. Then he heard the faint crack of a rifle on the opposite side of the Hollow, followed by two more cracks. The smoke and the sound of the rifle removed the last vestige47 of temporary depression which the grandeur of the scene and the utter silence of the vast solitude48 had tended to produce.
"Hal's got into a bunch of 'em or else his shooting eye is off," he chuckled49 and turned to scan the ridge he was on to the west. It presented a broken line of low peaks. One slightly higher than the rest marked the place where the pass to the Hollow entered. It was the hill from which the Lost Trail party had first looked into Smugglers' Hollow, and the view from the summit was more complete than from the point Walter now occupied.
"I'd like to get up there," he thought, "but it's a little too much of an undertaking50 on this crust. Besides, it would make me late for dinner. Hello! Wonder what that is."
He had caught a sudden flash on the highest point of the peak. As he watched he saw it again. His first thought had been that it was the sun reflected from a bit of ice, but an instant's thought convinced him that this couldn't be. It would of necessity be fixed51 and steady. The flashes he had seen were made by something moving. With this knowledge came the sudden conviction that the flashes were caused by the sun striking on polished metal. Hastily feeling in his rucksack he drew out a pair of opera-glasses which he always carried with him for use in studying birds and animals. They were not very strong, but sufficiently52 so to bring the peak perceptibly nearer. At first he could make out nothing unusual. Then through the glasses he caught that flash again and focussed them as nearly as possible on the spot from which it had come. For some minutes he saw nothing suspicious. He was almost ready to give up and conclude that it was in his imagination when he was positive that he saw something move back of a stunted53 little spruce growing from a cleft54 in the rocks at the point where he had located the flashes.
Instantly every instinct of the true scout55 was aroused. There was something alive back of that little spruce. It might be an animal and then again it might be a man. At once there flashed into his mind Alec's account of the robbed traps. Could it be that one of the thieves was reconnoitering the Hollow? His heart gave a queer jump at the thought. Anyway it was clearly up to him to find out what he could.
Rapidly he reviewed the situation. It was clear that from his present location he would gain no further information if his suspicions were true. If an enemy was watching from behind that spruce he was undoubtedly aware of Walter's presence, for he was standing56 in the open. Beyond question he had been watched from the time he left the cabin. To make a false move now would be to give warning. He regretted that he had gazed so long at the suspected point. That in itself would be sufficient to arouse suspicion in the mind of any one hiding there. The first thing then was to allay57 any such suspicion.
Deliberately he turned his glasses across the Hollow and studied the opposite mountain for a greater length of time than he had watched the point where he had seen the flash. Then he squatted58 down and leisurely59 turned his glasses from point to point in the Hollow in the manner of one having no interest in anything but the view. Not once did he glance back along the ridge, although he was burning with curiosity and desire to do so. He ignored it as if it held no further interest for him whatever. For perhaps ten minutes he continued to act the part of a mere60 sightseer. Then putting his glasses back in his rucksack he stretched lazily and in a leisurely manner began to pick his way down into a little draw which cut back into the ridge in the opposite direction from the pass. Once down in this he would be out of sight of a possible watcher at the spruce lookout62.
As soon as he was sure that he was beyond observation Upton hurried. The draw led back into a thick stand of young growth, and he hoped by working up through this to be able to cross the ridge unobserved and work back to a point which he had carefully noted63 and from which, owing to the change of angle, he felt sure he would be able to see back of the little spruce tree which had previously64 cut off his view. Getting up to the top of the ridge was stiff work for an inexperienced snow-shoer in a hurry and was productive of many tumbles, but it was accomplished65 at last. After this it was comparatively easy to work along just below the top on the back side to the point he had selected.
There he cautiously crept into a thicket66 of young spruce and, his heart beating like a trip-hammer with excitement, carefully parted the branches until he could get a clear view. His hands trembled as he drew out the glasses. Would he discover anything, or had he been wrought67 up to such a pitch over nothing? The little spruce leaped out clear and distinct as he got the focus. "Ha!" The exclamation68 was wholly involuntary and he experienced an absurd impulse to look around to make sure that he had not been overheard, although he knew that he was absolutely alone.
The cause was the figure of a man squatting
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CHAPTER X LIFE ON THE FUR TRAILS
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CHAPTER XII A DEER YARD
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