Phil Bradley's Snow-shoe Trail Part 8

"Yes, come on!" replied the other, immediately starting forward as fast as he could go on his snow-shoes.

"But, Phil, wasn't that another shot we heard?" expostulated X-Ray Tyson, as he did his level best to keep close to the heels of his chum.

"Yes, it was a gunshot," snapped Phil, who seemed to be laboring under some sort of emotion, though X-Ray could not say what its character might be.

They could see where the caribou had struck when he fell. His antlered head was resting on the snow, showing that he had fallen with that last leap, with his legs under him.

Phil saw a figure advancing from the opposite quarter, and also on snow-shoes. He was pleased to note there was only one, for he antic.i.p.ated that there was likely to be trouble of some sort around that locality before long.

"There the other hunter comes, Phil!" said X-Ray, wanting to be sure that his chum was made aware of the important fact.

"All right, but we're going to get up before he does," was all Phil replied.

The first thing he did on reaching the spot where the stricken caribou lay was to bend down and closely examine the right side. As said before the animal lay just as it had fallen, so that both haunches were in plain view, did any one take the trouble to step around.

Phil was gratified with what he saw in that hasty survey; but nevertheless he immediately leaned over to ascertain the condition of the animal's left side. By that time X-Ray had come up, and the stranger sportsman was also close at hand.

Up to that moment Phil had not taken the pains to give the other a look; but as he had found out all he wanted concerning the state of affairs in connection with the game, he now turned his attention on the advancing man.

He was a rather stout and exceedingly peppery looking individual, who was rather out of breath, and puffing from his exertions. His florid face did not impress Phil favorably at all; it seemed to sense the bully, and the overbearing man of millions, accustomed to lording it over others.

There was no question at all in Phil's mind but that this man was a member of the other party he had been told was in camp in that vicinity.

He might have even thought him to be a beef-eating Englishman only that his information had been to the effect that they were all Americans from below the border.

"I don't like his looks!" muttered X-Ray.

"No more do I," added Phil, under his breath, for the stranger sportsman was getting close up by then, and might hear if words were spoken in an ordinary tone. "But the game is ours without a question, and we're going to have what we want to carry off, make up your mind to that."

"Bully!" muttered X-Ray, who was inclined to be pugnacious on occasion; and at any rate never disposed to allow himself to be "used as a door mat, for some other person to wipe his feet on," as he used to put it.

Perhaps Phil meant something when he calmly placed his foot on the fallen game. It was a significant move, at any rate, and could hardly be mistaken. It struck X-Ray as peculiarly defiant, and he felt like chuckling as he watched to see what that red-faced individual did when he arrived on the scene of action.

If anything his face took on a deeper tint until it looked almost purple. When he saw that he had only two boys to contend with the other hunter must have believed he could frighten them with his looks, for he scowled like a pirate.

Somehow neither of the Mountain Boys drew back and began to apologize for daring to rob him of any of the free air. And no sooner had he arrived than the domineering tactics, with which perhaps he had pushed himself through business so as to acc.u.mulate his million, began to make themselves manifest.

"Here, what are you doing with your foot on _my_ caribou, I'd like to know?" was what he jerked out, being still short of breath.

"Excuse me, sir, but you'll have to explain what you mean," said Phil, coolly. "I am not aware of taking any such liberties with your caribou.

If it happens that you are referring to this animal here, you've made a big mistake, that's all. It is _our_ game; we saw it first, shot it first, and got here first. So you'll have to go to court and put in a claim. Possession in this case is nine points of the law!"

The man stared at the speaker. He evidently had seldom been spoken to in that manner before, certainly never by a mere boy. And yet something in Phil's face must have impressed him as worth observing. He saw that those eyes were fastened on him with a steady and keen look that did not falter under his scowl, or his muttering.

"I tell you it is my caribou, for I shot it," he proceeded to affirm, embellis.h.i.+ng his a.s.sertion with certain strong words which he doubtless expected might make the boys hesitate before they went any further and incurred his ill-will. "I was just creeping up within easy gunshot when you came along and scared the beast. I claim it as my prize."

"And we have been trailing the same caribou for at least two hours,"

said X-Ray under the impression that since he was a party to the dispute he should at least be allowed to get a few words in.

"The matter is easily settled," said Phil, quietly.

"I am glad to see that you mean to act sensibly; for since you came up after I had started to stalk the caribou it put you in the wrong," the other said, as if rather relieved in his mind at the turn affairs had taken.

"Don't mistake me, sir," continued Phil; "what I meant was that we can easily prove which has the right to the game. There's a way to settle that question that neither of us can rightly deny. If you look over here at this side of the caribou, which was the side toward us, you remember, you will find that _two_ bullets entered his body, one directly in the region of his heart. That shot killed the animal instantly. He could only make one jump, and then collapsed as you see him."

"Humph!" grunted the stout red-faced sportsman, with one of his ugly frowns; "and I suppose then you'll make out that I missed him entirely?"

"I'm not making out anything, sir, for you can see from the red mark just where your lead cut a little section from his hind leg. I'm sure I heard it sing past me and hardly ten feet away. That hurt would never have crippled a strong beast like a young bull caribou. You would never have had the least chance to lay claim to any of the meat if you had depended on your shot. But we're not greedy, sir; and if you care to forget this little unpleasantness we'll gladly call it our combined trophy of the chase, and divide the meat with you!"

It was a generous offer, and did the boy credit; but apparently the quarrelsome sportsman with the purple face felt himself insulted by being patronized by a couple of boys, for he ground his teeth together, and looked daggers at Phil.

CHAPTER VII

NOT TO BE BLUFFED

"I mean to have all, or none!" and as he said these words the red-faced hunter glowered at Phil as though he felt like eating him, X-Ray afterwards declared.

"Suit yourself, sir," remarked the boy, coolly drawing out his hunting knife.

The man looked a little startled; perhaps he thought Phil intended to attack him.

"Be careful what you mean to do, boy!" he stammered, some of the color leaving his fade; but he saw that X-Ray stood there with his gun under his arm, and finger playing with the lock, so he dared not try to elevate his own weapon in order to threaten Phil.

"I expect to cut this caribou up," said Phil, firmly. "Half of it is as much as we care to tote back to our camp with us. I shall leave the balance here. You can take it or leave it, as you choose, sir. It matters nothing to us."

He turned and said something in so low a tone to X-Ray that the sportsman could not catch its import. Since the other boy immediately drew back the hammer of his repeating rifle, and swung the weapon slightly around until it was pointing directly at the man he could easily guess what Phil had told his chum.

"Perhaps you do not know who I am," bl.u.s.tered the owner of the red face.

"Well, you haven't taken the trouble to introduce yourself yet, I believe, sir," Phil told him.

"My name is James Bodman, and I am interested in American railways!"

It was amusing to see the way the stout party drew himself up proudly as he said this. Of course Phil knew instantly that he was face to face with one of the best known millionaire railroad owners in the whole United States; and he also remembered reading that the same James Bodman was noted as a domineering financial despot.

Phil did not flinch. He gave no sign of being greatly impressed by the importance of the other's position in the world of finance. Instead he merely flirted his hand around to indicate his chum, and remarked with the greatest indifference possible:

"Oh! is that so? Well, let me introduce my friend, Raymond Tyson, Mr.

Bodman. As for myself I'm Phil Bradley."

That was all Phil said.

He immediately started work on the fallen caribou, with an air of business that could not brook delay. There were some miles of snowy bush to be traversed before he and his comrade could expect to reach their camp, and he did not wish to be detained any more than was absolutely necessary.

Meanwhile X-Ray was having considerable fun in watching the expressions that chased each other across the florid countenance of the stout hunter. Mr. Bodman apparently found himself taken aback by the indifferent manner in which the news of his ident.i.ty was received. He had possibly expected the boys to be dazed, and perhaps hasten to beg his august pardon.