"merry christmas!"
at the sound of pat's roar the three guests hastily tumbled out of their bunks with answering greetings. a cheerful fire blazed up the chimney and added its flickering light to that of a couple of candles, for the sun was not yet up. alec was cutting bacon and pat was mixing flapjack batter.
"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 fumbling under his bunk. at hal's complaint he looked up suspiciously. "i can't find one of mine," he sputtered. "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 bulging.
"ut would not be christmas an' we did not hang the childer's stockings," announced pat gravely.
with a whoop 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 trifling 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 scramble to finish dressing and when time was up it was evident that no one proposed to go hungry that christmas morning. during the meal it was decided 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 brook 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 wilderness of glistening white meant far more than the hunt. as a matter of fact the very thought of killing 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 undoubtedly 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 promptly acted upon his advice, and so precipitately 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 landmark he could not very well miss on his return. he put his rifle in it, tightened his belt, and then deliberately turned his back on the valley and headed for the top of the ridge. 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, scrambling, pulling himself up by brush and trees. after a little he discovered that by zigzagging back and forth 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 strenuous work to gain the coveted top of the ridge, and he was thoroughly winded and weary, to say nothing of sundry bruises and scratches from frequent falls. panting and perspiring 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 accentuated. the mountains which seemed to enclose it on all sides were no less heroically grand and rugged, but they had been robbed in a measure of their forbidding, somber gloom by the transforming mantle 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 myriad gems 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 alders 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 marred the grandeur of the scene, but it saved it from utter desolation. something of this sort flitted vaguely 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 vestige of temporary depression which the grandeur of the scene and the utter silence of the vast solitude had tended to produce.
"hal's got into a bunch of 'em or else his shooting eye is off," he chuckled 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 undertaking 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 fixed 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 sufficiently 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 stunted little spruce growing from a cleft in the rocks at the point where he had located the flashes.
instantly every instinct of the true scout 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 standing 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 allay 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 squatted down and leisurely 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 mere 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 lookout.
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 noted 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 previously 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 accomplished 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 thicket 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 wrought up to such a pitch over nothing? the little spruce leaped out clear and distinct as he got the focus. "ha!" the exclamation 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 behind the spruce and peering intently into the valley. he wore a fur cup pulled low to shade his eyes, and this, together with the distance, made it impossible for upton to see his features clearly, but somehow he received an unshakable conviction that it was an indian or a half-breed. a rifle leaned against the tree and doubtless it was the glint of the sun on its polished surface that had produced the mysterious flashes that had first caught his attention.
"he's watching to see if i go back to the cabin," thought walter. "if he doesn't see me by the time the others return he'll smell a rat. there's nothing more to be gained by staying here. i've proved that we are being watched, and that's all i can do. it's up to me to get back and tell the others."
cautiously the boy retreated through the thicket until he was below the cap of the ridge. then he hurried, running when he could and finding it less difficult than he had imagined. he crossed above the head of the draw and went on until he had reached a point which he judged must be about opposite to where he had left his rifle in the hollow tree. his first impulse had been to keep on until he could come out directly in the rear of the cabin, but on second thought he had decided that it would be wiser to return by the same way that he had left and get his rifle. if he had been seen leaving the cabin with his rifle it would look odd, to say the least, if he should be seen returning without it.
in climbing the ridge he had zigzagged back and forth, picking the easiest grade, but now he was too impatient for so slow a method of descent and plunged straight down, slipping, sliding, checking himself by catching at trees and brush, getting a fall now and then as the web of his shoes caught in a stick, but on the whole doing very well. one thing he had not considered as he should have—the possibility of slipping over an unseen ledge. it was brought home to him when he brought a rather long slide to an abrupt end by catching a tree on the very edge of a sheer drop of perhaps eight feet.
"phew!" he gasped. "a little more and i'd have gone over that and had a nasty tumble. been the same way if it had been a fifty foot ledge. i see where little walter will be turning up missing one of these days if he doesn't look out. it's a poor scout who takes needless chances in territory he isn't familiar with. i'll be more careful hereafter."
he peered over the edge of the ledge. below the snow had drifted deep and it was clear. the ledge ran east and west for some distance, and to make a detour would take time. his first thought was to kick off his shoes, toss them down and then jump. but if he did this he would be sure to break through the crust and he had no means of knowing the depth of that drift or what might be underneath it. he had no desire to find out. he must either jump on his shoes or go around, and the temptation was to jump.
"may as well learn to jump now as another time," he muttered, for the time being forgetting that in the event of a mishap, such as a twisted ankle, he would be helpless in a temperature far below zero.
he walked back a bit, took three or four long quick strides and leaped. as he left the edge of the little bluff he felt the tails of his shoes drop until the big webs hung from his feet at an angle but slightly off the perpendicular. a momentary doubt of a successful landing flashed through his mind. he had a vision of an ignominious plunge through the crust and perhaps broken shoes. then automatically he set himself for the landing, arms spread, body thrust forward and knees bent. it seemed as if those hanging shoes certainly must trip him. a second later he struck the crust in a half crouch. the crust cracked and gave a little, just enough to prevent the shoes from sliding. with a quick step he regained his balance and with a sense of exhilaration realized that he had made successfully his first jump on snow-shoes.
from this point he had little difficulty in reaching the hollow stub, where he secured his rifle and then turned toward the cabin. hal was just coming in. from one hand dangled a snow-shoe rabbit.
"is that all you've got for all that shooting i've heard?" chaffed walter.
hal grinned. "couldn't hit a balloon if it was big as a mountain and tied down in front of me," he confessed. "don't know what the trouble was, but i just couldn't shoot. wouldn't have got this fellow if he hadn't sat up and begged to be shot. missed him a mile the first time at ten yards. bullet didn't go near enough to scare him. second shot was no better. got him on the third shot, but i believe at that he jumped in front of the bullet. you don't seem to have had even that much luck. what was the trouble? haven't heard your rifle this morning."
"didn't feel like hunting. went up on the ridge to get the view instead," returned walter carelessly. "wonder how sparrer made out."
they entered the cabin to find pat and sparrer already there, the latter so excited that he gave vent to a joyful whoop when he caught sight of them and rushed precipitately to the back of the room to drag forth two pairs of rabbits.
"plugged 'em all meself!" he declared proudly.
the rabbits were duly examined and sparrer was praised for his marksmanship until his cheeks burned, pat leading in piling it on thick. two of the rabbits had been neatly drilled through the heads, a third had "got it in the neck," as pat put it, and the fourth had been shot through the body. pat forestalled any criticism by explaining that this was the first rabbit they had found and he had told sparrer to "shoot at thot little lump av snow just by way av gettin' yer hand in." quite innocently sparrer had done so, and had nearly dropped the rifle in surprise when the lump of snow had resolved itself into a rabbit which gave a few spasmodic kicks and then lay still.
of course hal was chaffed unmercifully over his one lone contribution to the larder, especially when he admitted that he had shot at no less than five. but he took it good-naturedly, confessing that he was utterly at loss to account for his bad form.
meanwhile upton had said nothing about his discovery on the ridge. his first impulse had been to blurt out the news, but on second thought he had decided not to. at the first opportunity he drew pat aside and told him. the big fellow's face darkened. "say nothing about it," he counseled. "there's no use in spoiling a merry day, and the knowledge that we are being watched will do them no good. there's nothing we can do about it to-day. 'tis not likely they mean us any harm. it's the fur they are after, and they've just taken advantage of the crust which leaves no trail to look us over and find out how many are in our party."
so walter held his peace, and threw himself into the preparations for dinner as if he had nothing of more importance on his mind. that christmas feast will never be forgotten by the three city lads. there was the promised roast of venison, a rabbit stew, potatoes baked in the ashes, canned peas, biscuit, a jar of jam, and, to top off with, a hot apple pie made from evaporated apples. but the real surprise was a steak done to a turn over the hot coals.
"bear!" shouted hal as he set his teeth in the first mouthful.
alec smiled. "i see ye have tasted it before," said he.
"once," replied hal. "louis woodhull got one on that swift river trip a year ago last fall. but when did you get this fellow, and why have you kept so mum about it?"
alec nodded toward the skin which was to be spud ely's. "it's the same one," said he. "i've kept part of him ripening out in the storehouse against this day," he explained.
when they could eat no more there was a general loosening of belts and sighs of complete satisfaction into which pat rudely broke with a demand for dishwashers and wipers.
"oh, can it!" grunted hal. "when a fellow's in the seventh heaven what do you try to bring him down to earth again for?"
but pat was obdurate, and with many an exaggerated grunt and groan the remains of the feast were cleared away, the dishes washed and the cabin set to rights. then followed a lazy hour before the rifle match. it was agreed that pat and alec, both of whom were expert shots, should count as a clean miss any shot not striking in the black, while the others should be credited with whatever their actual scores were. each was to be allowed ten shots. the bull's-eye counted ten, the first ring outside counted nine, the next ring eight, and so on. each was allowed three trial shots to get the range.
hal was the first to take his trial shots. at the crack of the rifle upton ran forward to examine the target. "never touched it! didn't even hit the board! some shooter you are, hal!" he yelled.
hal flushed, but said nothing. for his second shot he took plenty of time and was as careful as he knew how to be. the result was the same. for his third shot he used a rest, which was contrary to the rules, but was allowed, as this was only a trial shot. this time he nicked a splinter from one edge of the board on which the target was fastened.
"here, let me see that rifle," cried pat, striding forward and snatching the gun out of hal's hands. he sighted it, then handed it back with a grin. "will ye tell me how iver ye got thot wan rabbit wid a gun the loikes av thot?" he demanded.
"why, what's the matter with the gun?" demanded hal, reaching for it, a puzzled scowl furrowing his brows.
alec forestalled him and took the rifle from pat's hands. he in turn sighted along the barrel. "laddie," said he, the soberness of his face belied by the twinkle in his eyes, "do ye no ken that a gun is like a fine lady? it must be treated wi' respect."
hal took the gun with a puzzled look. "i don't quite get you fellows yet," said he.
pat laughed outright. "look at your forward sight, man. you've hit the end of your barrel against something and knocked that sight a wee bit out of alignment. it must have been pure luck that you got that rabbit this morning."
"use my rifle," interrupted walter.
"thanks," replied hal. "i believe i will. even if i got the sights adjusted on my gun i shouldn't be able to shoot. every time i made a poor shot i'd have the feeling that it was the gun's fault. my, but it is a relief to know that i haven't gone back in my shooting quite so badly as all that."
all having made their trial shots the match was on. walter shot first, getting five tens, four nines and an eight, a total of ninety-four. alec was next, and his first shot was a nine, followed by nine bull's-eyes, a total of ninety under his handicap. hal started off with a seven, went into the black six times in succession, then got two eights and wound up with a nine, total ninety-two. sparrer gave them a surprise with eighty-seven and pat slapped him on the back. the coaching he had received that morning during the rabbit hunt had not been in vain. pat was the last man up, and shot rapidly and with seeming carelessness, but the succession of bull's-eyes was proof that this was more apparent than real. his last shot, however, barely touched the edge of the black, and he insisted that it be counted a miss, tying him with alec and giving walter the match.
after this pat and alec shot a friendly match. while this was going on hal slipped back to the cabin. he had marked a small spruce of perfect shape not far from the rear of the cabin, and this he now cut and dragged in. by the time the shooting was over he had it set up at the rear of the room and had stretched a blanket across so as to screen it. when his comrades came trooping in they were warned not to peep behind it under threat of dire penalties. he made one exception. he needed upton's help and also the gifts that walter had brought from home.
by the time they had finished it was quite dark in the cabin. they piled logs on the fire and when the blaze was leaping merrily up the chimney and casting a warm ruddy light over the room hal suggested that they draw up to the fire for a christmas story. he chose the german legend of the origin of the christmas tree. he possessed no mean skill as a story-teller and he threw himself into the telling of this so that his listeners sat in rapt attention.
just before the conclusion he gave walter a signal and the latter arose and slipped back of the blanket. as the story ended the blanket was pulled down and there was the little tree glittering with lights and tinsel and hung with the gifts which the boys had brought. there was a delighted gasp from pat, alec and sparrer and then a silence that was a tribute in itself as they watched the colored candles gradually shorten. the truth is it was the first christmas tree within the experience of any one of the three, and they were as delighted as any children could have been.
when the candles had burned down to the danger point hal blew them out and then distributed the gifts, which were opened amid much hilarity and fun making.
"this makes up for the stockings this morning," he laughed as the others showered him with fulsome praise.
"it more than makes up," declared pat. "'tis a christmas i'll never forget." then as he lovingly fingered a long desired book sent in by doctor merriam he added: "but when did you think of the tree idea? was it in new york?"
hal nodded. "the idea came to me the very day we left. saw a window full of tree fixings and on the impulse ran in and got the candles and tinsel. glad you like it."
an hour of story-telling followed ere they turned in and silence like a christmas benediction settled over the cabin.
