Dave Porter At Bear Camp: or, The Wild Man of Mirror Lake

"Better put on an extra coat; here is one," answered Ben, and passed the garment over. Then he returned to the other bungalow, for he was tired.

Shadow had expected to have quite a talk with the prisoner, but in this he was disappointed, for Link appeared to be asleep, and he did not have the heart to awaken the prisoner. He sat on the stool, thinking over several of the stories he had told from time to time, and trying to invent one or two new ones.

In the midst of his revery a sound from outside startled him. It was the hooting of an owl, and so close that the mournful sound made Shadow shiver.

"I'd like to shoot that owl," he told himself, as the hooting continued. "If I brought him down I could have him stuffed," he thought, with some satisfaction.

Shadow looked at the motionless form on the couch, and then arising from the stool, tiptoed his way into the big living-room of the bungalow. One of the windows was wide open, and he looked out of this to see if he could locate the owl. The hooting was now closer than before and seemed to come from a tree not twenty-five feet away.

"Say, there's a chance for a shot," murmured the youth to himself. "If I could only spot that owl I'm sure I could – "

Thump! Shadow received a staggering blow in the back of the neck, and then felt himself hurled to one side, while the shotgun was wrenched from his grasp. Then, before he could recover from his astonishment, a figure leaped through the open window and dashed across the moonlit dooryard.

"Hi! Stop!" yelled Shadow, as soon as he could recover his breath. "Stop! Help!"

"What's the racket?" The cry came from Roger, and then he and Dave burst into the room, followed by Phil.

"Merwell! He's escaped! He got the gun away from me, and jumped through the window!" panted poor Shadow. "Oh, what a fool I was to think he was asleep!"

"Where did he go?" questioned Dave, and at the same time bounded back into the bedroom, to don his shoes and part of his clothing.

"He jumped out of the window with the gun. That's all I know about it," answered Shadow.

"Didn't you have a fight?" questioned Phil.

"No, I came to the window to look at an owl that was hooting around here. Link came behind me and gave me a fierce crack in the neck. Then he grabbed the gun and went through the window like a flash. And I thought he was asleep!"

By this time Dave had returned, partly dressed, and catching up another one of the fowling pieces in the bungalow he, too, leaped through the window, followed by Shadow. A few seconds later the other boys joined them.

"Have you any idea which way he went?" questioned our hero.

"I don't know exactly, Dave, but I think he went that way," and the former story-teller of Oak Hall pointed with his hand.

"Let's scatter a little," ordered Dave, and while he passed in the direction pointed out, the other boys separated to both sides of him. All advanced to the edge of the woods and there came to a halt. While the moon made it fairly bright in the open space surrounding the bungalows, beneath the trees it was dark, and consequently little could be seen.

"Might as well look for a pin in a haystack," grumbled Roger. "If he got into these woods it's good-bye to him. We might search all night and not get a trace of the rascal."

"I guess you're right, Roger," answered Dave, "but let's search around a little anyway."

Long before this the alarm had become general, and now Dunston Porter and Mr. Wadsworth appeared, followed shortly by Mrs. Wadsworth and Mrs. Basswood and the girls.

"Let us take the flashlights and lanterns and see if we can't get on the track of him," ordered the jewelry manufacturer. "We must capture him if it is possible to do so."

And then the search began in earnest.

CHAPTER XXII

MORE OF A MYSTERY

"Did you see anything of him?"

"Not a thing. Did you?"

"I saw something move under the trees, but I guess it was a wild animal."

"He's gotten away, and that is all there is to it," said Dave, as he looked at his chums and at the men, who had also joined in the search for Link Merwell.

"This is certainly too bad!" remarked Mr. Wadsworth, with a shake of his head.

"And it was all my fault!" broke out Shadow, bitterly. "Oh, I could kick myself full of holes every time I think of it!"

Over an hour had been spent in the woods surrounding the clearing on Mirror Lake. During that time the men and the boys had stirred up several small wild animals, but that had been all.

"He must have legged it for all he was worth after he jumped through the window," was Roger's comment. "For all we know he may be miles away from here by now."

"If he ran straight into those woods it was a hazardous proceeding," said Dunston Porter. "He'll become hopelessly lost in the darkness, and when daylight comes he won't know how to turn to get out."

"Oh, perhaps he'll climb a tree and locate his surroundings that way," suggested Dave. "You must remember that Link isn't like a city fellow. He was brought up in the wild West, and knows how to do for himself in the open."

"We may as well give up the hunt," said Mr. Wadsworth, and turned toward Bear Camp, followed by the others.

"Oh, Dave, did you catch him?" The cry came from Jessie, who stood on the porch with the others, awaiting their return.

"No, he got away."

"That's too bad!"

"You should have kept him bound, Dave," said Laura.

"That's it, Dave," added Belle. "In the West they would tie a rascal like Link fast to a tree with a lariat. If you secured him properly he would stay there until you freed him."

"Well, there is no use in crying over spilt milk," remarked Mrs. Basswood. "I suppose we may as well go to bed again." And on this the others agreed.

Several days, including Sunday, passed, and nothing more was seen or heard of Link Merwell or Ward Porton. During that time the young folks went out on the lake several times, and also went fishing. Swimming was mentioned, but as the weather was getting colder rapidly, only Dave and Phil went in for a plunge. One day they planned to visit the moving-picture people, but it rained and they did not go.

"It will soon be time for hunting," announced Roger. "I hope we do get a chance to bring down something before we have to go back."

"Well, I'd like to have a crack at a deer, myself," answered Dave, who had not forgotten the sport he had had on Squirrel Island and at other places in the vicinity of Oak Hall.

"What's the matter with a crack at a bear?" interposed Phil. "A great big shaggy fellow that would weigh eight hundred or a thousand pounds."

"Say, Phil, you don't want much in life!" cried Ben. "Why don't you make it a two-thousand-pound bear while you are at it?"

"Say, speaking about heavy bears puts me in mind of a story I heard!" cried Shadow, his face lighting up for the first time since the escape of Link Merwell. "This yarn was told by an old western hunter and trapper, and he said it was strictly true. He said he was out on the ranges one day when he found himself suddenly pursued by three Modoc Indians. He shot at them several times without hitting anybody, and then, to his consternation, he found that his ammunition had given out. He legged it up a mountain-side, and the three Modocs came after him, yelling to beat the band. Just as they were following him up the steep trail, he saw a monstrous bear come plunging out from a thicket near by. He was so upset that he hardly knew what to do, but he grabbed up a big rock and sent it at the bear. It struck the monstrous animal on the head and keeled him over, and the bear rolled down the steep mountain-side, and knocked over the three Modoc Indians, smashing every one of them."

"Wow! That's some bear story!" exclaimed Luke.

"Shadow, how could you bear to tell such a story?" asked Dave, reproachfully.

"That knocks out all the dime novels ever written," said Ben.

"Why, Ben! do you mean to say you have read them all?" cried our hero, in pretended surprise.

"All? I don't read any of them!" snorted Ben. "Just the same, that's the biggest whopper I ever heard."

"Well, I'm not vouching for the story," interposed Shadow, dryly, "I'm just telling it as it was told to me."

"Speaking about being frightened by a bear puts me in mind that it's queer we haven't seen or heard anything more of that wild man," remarked Roger.

"We don't want to see or hear anything more of him!" burst out Laura. "One scare was enough."

"It's queer that the Pooles don't send some one up here to look for him," remarked Jessie. "If he were my uncle I certainly wouldn't want him to be roaming around in the woods that way."

"If he is just roaming around I wonder how he manages to live," said Dave. "And where does he get all that outlandish outfit?"

"He must have some sort of a habitation here," returned Phil. "Maybe he has taken possession of some bungalow or cabin that was locked up. If he has, won't the owners of the place be mad when they find it out, especially if he is using their things!"

"I wonder if we couldn't go up to that cliff and track him in some way from there?" said Phil. "He may have left some sort of trail behind him. Unless he follows some kind of paths through the woods he would be apt to get lost, just like anybody else."

"If he really is Wilbur Poole, I'd like to capture him and send him back to the sanitarium; where he belongs," remarked Roger. "I think Nat would like us to do it."

"What do you say about starting on a regular hunt to-morrow?" asked Dave. "We might go out directly after breakfast and carry our lunch with us. Who knows but what in looking for the wild man we might run across some trace of Link Merwell."

"Oh, Dave, you mustn't get into any trouble!" cried Jessie, hastily.

"If we go out we'll go armed and be on our guard," he replied.

The matter was talked over for some time, and at last it was decided that the boys should start out in a body directly after breakfast the following morning, provided it remained clear. They were to carry a shotgun and a rifle, and also a substantial lunch, and were not to return to Bear Camp until evening.

"I'd like to go on such a tramp myself," announced Belle. "It would be lots of fun climbing over the rocks and up the mountains."

"I think you girls had better remain around the bungalows," said Mrs. Wadsworth. "You can go out some other time, when the boys are not looking for that wild man and Link Merwell."

During the past few days those at Bear Camp had seen but little of the moving-picture company. That afternoon the old hunter, Tad Rason, stopped at the dock in his rowboat, and made the announcement that the company had gone to the other end of the lake, to take pictures for several more dramas.

"Mr. Appleby wanted me to tell you that that young feller, Ward Porton, ain't goin' to be with 'em no more," announced Tad Rason to Dave. "He says the young feller writ a letter sayin' that he was on the track of his parentage, and he guessed as how he'd have plenty of money of his own when he could prove who he was."

This announcement was of great interest to Dave, and he immediately questioned Tad Rason, to learn if the old hunter knew anything further. But that was all Rason could tell. He even did not know how long Ward Porton had remained with the moving-picture company after his arrival in the Adirondacks.

"The huntin' season will be openin' to-morrow," announced Tad Rason, in reply to a question from Phil. "I'm bound down the lake now to meet a party of hunters comin' from Albany. I take 'em out every season, actin' as guide."

"Perhaps we'll get you to go out with us some day," said Roger.

"All right, boys. I'll be glad to go, if I ain't got any job with them other fellows," announced the old hunter.

Although he was not willing to admit it to the others, Dave was greatly worried over the news brought by Tad Rason. Coupling it with what he had heard from Link Merwell and Nat Poole, he could reach but one conclusion, which was that in some way Ward Porton was going to try to prove that the boy from the Crumville poorhouse was not the real Dave Porter.

"Maybe he'll come along with a story that he is the real Dave," thought our hero, bitterly. "He said he was raised in a poorhouse, just like myself, but he also said it was away down East and not anywhere near the vicinity of Crumville. How he is going to get around that is beyond me. I don't think he'll be able to make anybody believe his story. Just the same, I wish this thing hadn't come up. I'd like to forget those poorhouse days entirely." And at the remembrance of those bitter times, Dave sighed deeply.

"Dave, you look awfully worried," said Jessie, that evening when the boys were getting ready for their next day's tramp. "What is the trouble?"

"Oh, it isn't much," he answered, evasively. "I was just thinking over what Link Merwell said."

"Dave, don't let him worry you so!" cried the girl, sympathetically. "He is a bad boy, and everybody knows it."

"But he said some things that I don't like at all, Jessie. I don't like him to call me a poorhouse nobody."

"Dave, don't you mind him! I don't care if you did come from the poorhouse. I think just as much of you anyway," and Jessie's eyes showed her earnestness.

"It's splendid of you to say that," he returned, in a low tone, and catching both her hands, he squeezed them tightly. "It's a grand good thing to have somebody who believes in you."

Early in the evening there was a slight shower, and some of the boys thought they were in for a steady rain. But soon the clouds passed, and the moon and stars came out as brightly as ever.

"A perfect day!" announced Roger, on arising the next morning. "Just cool enough to make mountain climbing a pleasure."

The servants had an early breakfast ready for the boys, and by the time the girls and the others appeared they had partaken of the repast and were ready to depart. Dave carried the rifle and Roger the shotgun, while the others were loaded down with several knapsacks of provisions and some extra wraps and a blanket or two.

"You want to take plenty of things with you," Dunston Porter had cautioned them. "You may get farther away from home than you anticipate, and may have to stay out all night."

"That's true, Uncle Dunston," Dave had answered. "And that being so, if we don't turn up at a reasonable hour, don't worry about us."

"But what will you do if you capture that wild man?" asked Mrs. Basswood.

"If it's Wilbur Poole, we'll make him a prisoner and bring him with us," announced Dave.

"Well, good luck to you!" cried Dunston Porter, as the boys prepared to leave. "Remember the hunting season opens to-day, so if you get a chance at any game don't let it slip you."

"Trust us for that, Uncle Dunston!" cried Dave.

With shouts of good-bye, the boys turned away from the bungalows, and a few minutes later disappeared along the path running beside the brook.

CHAPTER XXIII

SHOOTING A WILDCAT

Less than half an hour later, the boys found themselves at the top of the cliff where Dave and Phil had seen the encounter between Link Merwell and the so-called wild man. A brief look around convinced them that the locality was deserted.

"Now to find the wild man's trail, if he left one," announced Dave, and the boys scattered in several directions, looking at the ground and the brushwood with great care.

"If we only had one of those Reservation Indians with us, he might help us pick up the trail," declared Roger. "As it is, I must confess I'm not much of a trail-finder."

"Oh, don't give up so soon," returned Dave. "Remember we have the whole day before us."

Presently Ben and Luke, who had turned southward on the cliff, let out a shout.

"Here is something of a trail," announced Ben, when the others came hurrying in that direction, and he pointed to footprints which led through some soft soil between a number of low bushes. A little further on they could see where somebody's shoes or boots had carried some of the mud up on to the rocks beyond.

"That certainly does look like a trail," declared Dave. "Let us follow it up a bit, and see where it leads to."

This was considered good advice, and soon, led by our hero, the whole party was moving through the brushwood and over the rocks. Then they came once again to the woods, and here discovered a well-defined trail running southwestward.

"This may be an animal trail for all we know," remarked Shadow. "For my part, I can't tell one kind of trail from another."

"It's quite likely that a fellow like that wild man would use any trail he came across, and so would anybody else trying to move around in a wilderness like this," answered Dave. "I don't think it will do any harm to follow it for some distance."

"Better keep your eyes open, Dave," cautioned Phil. "It may lead us into danger."

"I've got my eyes wide open, and I've got the rifle handy, too," answered our hero, as he once more led the march forward.

The trail was very narrow in places, so that they had to walk in single file. It made a long curve through the forest, and then came out in a little clearing, backed up by a series of jagged rocks. Here there was a small stream, and behind it a spring of pure, cold water.

"It looks to me as if the animals used this trail when they wanted a drink," was Luke's comment. "That water looks pretty good to me," and bending down, he took a deep draught. "It's fine," he went on; "try it!"

The others did as requested, and agreed with Luke that the water was as good as any they had ever tasted. Then began more searching, and before long they found another trail, this time veering to the westward.

The boys pushed forward once again, Dave still in the lead; and thus a half mile more was covered. Then they found themselves between a number of rocks where, presently, the trail seemed to lose itself.

"Say, Dave, we don't seem to be getting anywhere," announced Phil, as having climbed over several very rough rocks, he stopped to regain his breath.

"That's right!" broke in Luke. "And say, we had better go slow unless somebody wants to sprain an ankle. This is the roughest ground I ever tried to get over."

"It is easier walking just ahead," announced Dave, who now stood on the top of one of the rocks, gazing forward. "Come on! I think I see the trail too," and he made a leap from one rock to another and was soon some distance in advance.

The rough rocks left behind, the boys came out on a trail which seemed to come from the north and lead directly up a steep hillside well covered with tall trees. Here the shade was very thick, and the slight breeze that was stirring made the atmosphere decidedly cool.

"Wonder what time it is?" remarked Luke, and drew out his watch as he spoke. "Well, I never! Only ten o'clock! I thought it must be about noon!"

"Getting hungry already?" laughed Dave. "If you are, we might stop for a bite."

"That's it! let's have a bite to eat, and rest at the same time," cried Phil. "We brought plenty of lunch along – enough for several meals."

The boys sat in a sort of circle on some rocks and a fallen tree, and while thus resting partook of a light lunch from one of the knapsacks. Then they moved forward, up the hillside, and presently found themselves on the top of the rise.

"Here is quite a view!" announced Shadow, and they spent a little time in taking in the panorama spread before them. On one side they could see Mirror Lake, and on the other the nearby mountains and also a faraway wagon-road, which they rightly guessed was that running to Carpen Falls and the villages beyond.

"See anything worth looking at outside of the scenery?" questioned Roger of our hero.

"I see some smoke down in yonder hollow," announced Dave. "That must come either from some campfire or else from some cabin, and whether it is from a campfire or a cabin it means that some human being must be there."

"Right you are, Dave! And that human being may be that wild man, or Link Merwell," answered Ben, quickly.

"How far do you think it is to that smoke?" asked Phil.

Various guesses were made, and the consensus of opinion was that the smoke was not over half a mile distant.

"Let us take the trail leading off in that direction," said Dave, and a few minutes later the boys struck out once more.

Much to their surprise, getting down into the hollow between the hills and the nearby mountain was by no means as easy as they had anticipated. The way proved exceedingly rough, and more than once one or another of them was in danger of a serious tumble. As it was, Shadow slipped on the rocks and scraped his hands in several places. Then Luke gave a grunt, announcing that he had barked his left shin.

Dave was still in advance, and now he made a leap from a rock into some low brushwood. As he did this there came a sudden cry and a snarl, followed by the movement of some body through the brushwood a short distance ahead.

"Hello! what was that?" cried Phil, who was nearest to our hero.

"I didn't get a very good view of it, Phil," answered Dave, who now had his rifle ready for use, "but unless I was much mistaken, it was a wildcat."

"A wildcat! Great Cæsar! We don't want to run into any such beast as that, Dave."

"Did you see a wildcat? Where is it?" demanded Roger, quickly, as he, too, reached Dave's side.

"It went off in that direction," answered Dave, pointing with the barrel of his rifle. "See! There it is!"

As Dave uttered the last words, Roger and Phil saw a small, tawny-colored body creep out of some distant bushes and make a leap onto a flat rock. The beast was indeed a wildcat, and as it came from cover it swung around for a brief instant to gaze savagely at the boys. Then it crouched low, preparatory to making a leap to another rock higher up.

Crack! It was Dave's rifle that rang out. And following the report the wildcat was seen to leap into the air and then fall back on the rock, where it whirled over and over several times.

"You hit it, Dave!" yelled Phil and Roger, simultaneously.

"What did you shoot at?" called out Ben, as he came plunging forward, followed by Luke and Shadow.

"A wildcat! See, there it is on the rocks!" cried Roger.

"A wildcat! I didn't know there were any left around here," returned Ben, and then he added, quickly: "There it goes! You didn't kill it after all, Dave."

As Ben spoke, the wildcat gave another whirl on the rock, and then slipped off through the bushes out of sight of the boys.

"I'll give him a shot from my gun if he needs it," announced Roger, as he hurried forward.

"Be careful that he doesn't get at you first!" cried Dave, warningly. "If he's only slightly wounded he'll be a dangerous customer to tackle."

The other boys followed Roger, and, having reloaded his weapon, Dave followed suit. Soon all were standing close to the flat rock where the wildcat had been hit.

"Where is it?"

"I don't see him anywhere."

"Be careful, he may land on you before you know it!"

"There! There! Look yonder!" The last cry came from Luke, and at his words all turned quickly, to see the wildcat crouch between two trees growing close to the rocks. With a snarl, the beast leaped out toward them, the blood flowing from a wound along one forequarter.

Roger had the shotgun ready, and without taking time to bring the weapon to his shoulder, he pulled the trigger.

Bang! went the piece, and then, with a final leap, the wildcat sprang toward the boys, only to drop dead at their feet.

"Good! That's the way to do it!" cried Phil, enthusiastically. "That wildcat won't bother us any more."

"Dave hit him in the forequarter," announced Roger, after an examination of the dead animal. "More than likely the beast would have died from that wound."

"I don't know about that," returned our hero; modestly. "You are the one who settled him. That was a fine shot, Roger. It couldn't have been better." And on this the others agreed.

As no one cared to take the trouble to skin the wildcat, the beast was left where it had fallen, and the boys once more took their way along the trail leading to the spot where they had seen the smoke. Soon the trail made another turn, and then came out on a path which was wider and showed considerable usage.

"Here are footprints," said Ben, pointing to them. "I believe we are getting close to some sort of a house or cabin."