ROGER MAKES PLANS
For a few minutes after the exciting scrabble for trees, there was a deep silence among the four. They were all interested in the movements of the bear. Having squatted on his haunches for a little while, the beast dropped to a walking position, and strolled about, sniffing deeply at the foot of each sapling which held a human occupant. He uttered loud "woofs" of disgust, and then, standing under the tree where Mr. Dudley was, the animal acted as if he was going to climb up.
The brute's sharp claws tore showers of bark and wood from the slender trunk, and his efforts caused the sapling to shake considerable, making Mr. Dudley's perch somewhat insecure.
"Hold on there! Hold on!" exclaimed the engineer in a protesting tone. Then, as he saw the uselessness of ordering a bear he added more gently, "Oh, say, Bruin. Ho! ho! Easy now, that's a good fellow!" It seemed as though Mr. Dudley was talking to a restive horse.
The man's voice apparently angered the bear, which redoubled its efforts to get up the tree, though the slender trunk proved an effective barrier.
"Oh, I say now!" cried Mr. Dudley, looking helplessly at his companions, "call him off, some of you. This won't do at all. He'll shake me down and eat me. Call him off, can't you?"
"I'm afraid he doesn't care to be called," said Mr. Ranquist, with just the suspicion of a smile on his face. "He seems an obstinate sort of brute."
"But what's to be done, what's to be done?" inquired Mr. Dudley, testily. "We can't stay here all day, Ranquist, like ripe apples, waiting to be shaken down by this beast. Something must be done; I insist on it. I'll—I'll—What did you boys want to lead us into a bear's den for?" he asked, turning toward Roger and Adrian.
"We didn't know there were bears about," answered Adrian, a little crestfallen at the mishap. "There hasn't been any bears near Cardiff before in ten years."
"Stuff and nonsense! Stuff and nonsense!" interrupted Mr. Dudley shortly. "I believe you boys did this for a joke. If you did—"
"Oh, pshaw!" came from Mr. Ranquist, "of course it isn't the boys' fault. How could they help it?"
"Well, perhaps they couldn't," admitted Mr. Dudley, "but it's very unpleasant, to say the least."
Then the bear began another attack on the tree where Mr. Dudley was, with such savage energy that it needed all the engineer's strength to prevent himself from being shaken down.
"Oh! Oh!" cried Mr. Dudley, desperately. "Something will have to be done at once. Help! Help!" he yelled.
"Haven't either of you men a revolver?" called Roger.
"By Jove! I never thought of it!" said Mr. Ranquist, suddenly. "Of course I have. But I'm not a very good shot, and, if I was, I'm afraid the small bullets in my gun wouldn't cause his bearship much annoyance. It's only a .22 calibre," he added.
Carefully balancing himself, the young engineer drew the weapon from his pocket. His movement seemed to interest bruin, who left his position under Mr. Dudley's tree, and ambled over to the sapling where Mr. Ranquist was perched, much to the relief of the older prospector.
"I'm going to shoot," said Mr. Ranquist. "I don't know what will happen after it, so look out, every one."
Taking as good aim as he could, Mr. Ranquist fired at the brute. There was no evidence that the bullet hit, so he blazed away again. This was another miss, but the third attempt was more effective, for, with an angry roar, the animal dropped on all fours, and began clawing his snout with his left paw. A few spots of blood showed on the ground.
"You hit him! You hit him!" exclaimed Mr. Dudley, and, in his delight, he tried to caper about on his slender perch, with the result that he nearly tumbled off.
"Oh, yes, I hit him," admitted Mr. Ranquist, showing just a little pride in the achievement. "I winged him, but I'll have to do better than that, if I want to persuade him to go away. These bullets are only flea-bites to him."
The little leaden pellet did not seem to cause the bear much suffering, but the pain angered him, and, with savage growls, he made fierce efforts to get at the man he apparently knew had fired the shot. In rapid succession Mr. Ranquist pulled the trigger four times more, but none of these balls touched a vital spot, though two of them struck the beast in the head. He was now wild with rage.
Mr. Ranquist began to reload his revolver.
"I've only one more round—seven shots," he called.
"Hold on then!" shouted Adrian. "You can't kill him with those. If you'll hold his attention long enough, by firing at him, I'll shin down, and go for help. We'll need somebody with a gun for this bear."
"Do you think you can do it?" asked Mr. Ranquist, anxiously. "I wouldn't want you to get hurt."
"Sure I can do it," replied Adrian, with all a boy's ability in his power to do something he has never tried before.
"I rather dislike the idea, for I'm afraid he'll get away from me, even if I keep firing at him, and take after you," objected Mr. Ranquist.
"I'll chance it," was Adrian's answer. "Go ahead with loading up, and, when you're ready I'll scramble down. His back is toward me, when he's under your tree."
"All right," called Mr. Ranquist, slipping in the last cartridge.
He took as careful aim as he could, and fired a shot. This time he had the luck to hit the beast on its tender snout, which so enraged and pained the bear that he did not notice Adrian's quick movement. In order to fully cover the retreat Mr. Ranquist kept blazing away, and hit bruin twice more, though the wounds were slight. However, they served to keep the bear's attention on the man with the revolver, and Adrian slipped to the ground, edging away cautiously through the trees. When at a safe distance to prevent the noise being heard, he broke into a run.
With his last bullet gone, Mr. Ranquist settled back in the crotch of his tree. He, Mr. Dudley, and Roger made themselves as comfortable as possible, to wait until help arrived.
Meanwhile the bear went sniffing from tree to tree, getting more fierce in his rage every minute. Only the small diameter of the saplings prevented him from climbing up them. For perhaps half an hour the three were thus held prisoners, though it seemed much longer to them, all cramped as they were. Suddenly they noticed that the brute was acting strangely. He sniffed the air, and growled yet more savagely, and the hair on his back bristled up.
"I'll bet some one is coming," said Mr. Ranquist. "I only hope they have a gun. I wouldn't care to meet his bearship on the ground without one, in his present frame of mind."
The next instant there was a sharp crack. The bear gave a convulsive jump, and staggered back, clawing the air with his forepaws, and growling. Then he fell over backward in a heap.
"Good!" shouted Mr. Dudley.
A little cloud of smoke floated out from behind a big chestnut tree. Next there came another rifle shot. The body of the beast shivered in a spasm, and then was very still.
"Him very much dead now. Yo' all kin come down," called a guttural voice, and Indian Johnny Green came into view, followed by Adrian.
Mr. Dudley, Mr. Ranquist and Roger lost no time in descending. They were somewhat stiff from standing in a cramped position in the tree so long, but, otherwise, and aside from the scare, no worse for the adventure.
"Well, it didn't take you long to bring help," observed Mr. Dudley, grateful to the boy, though a little while before he had been inclined to blame him.
"I happened to meet Johnny Green when I'd gone about a mile," said Adrian. "It's lucky he had his gun."
"It's rather a lucky affair all around," said Mr. Ranquist.
The Indian paid no more attention to the party, but proceeded to examine his prize, for the bear rightfully belonged to him. The animal was fat and of good size, and Johnny Green was well pleased.
"I guess we'll call this exploring expedition off for the rest of the day," suggested Mr. Ranquist. "I'm sure we are much obliged to you boys for coming along, and especially to you, Adrian, for being brave enough to go for help when you did."
"That was nothing," answered the boy, a little abashed at the praise.
"We shall expect you to go with us some other day this week," went on the engineer. "Now, if you'll lead the way we will go back to the hotel."
The two boys talked of nothing but the bear on the road home, but the men maintained a silence. The Indian had remained behind to look after his game. The party soon reached the inn, and, while the men went to their room Roger and Adrian hurried home to tell the news.
"Say, Roger," asked Adrian, "what made you so anxious to lead 'em on to our land by the spring?"
"Because," answered Roger, as if the matter was of no importance, "I thought they might like to get a drink. I know I did, and that's very good water you see."
"You're right about that," agreed Adrian, and by this time the two boys were at the house, where, in the excitement of telling his father and mother about the bear, Adrian forgot all else.
As soon as Roger could slip off without attracting notice from the folks, he made his way up the village street. Pausing before a pretty vine-covered cottage, he looked back to see that Adrian was not in sight, and then entered the gate.
"Is Professor Bailey in?" he asked, when Mrs. Bailey opened the door.
"He is," she answered.
"Tell him, please, that Adrian Kimball's cousin, Roger, would like to see him."
"Come right in," invited Mrs. Bailey. "You'll find him in the front room."
And there, surrounded by heaps of books, Roger found the professor, Guy Bailey, principal of the Cardiff school. The boy knew him from having occasionally gone to the institution with Adrian.
"Well, Roger," began the professor, "I'm glad to see you. Come in and sit down. Can I do anything for you?"
"I think so," answered the boy. "I've come for a little information." Then he plunged at once into the object of his visit.
"Professor," he asked, "do you think anybody would dig for gold in the hills around Cardiff?"
"Bless my soul, no! What do you mean? This is not a gold country, like California or the Klondike. What put that idea into your head?"
"I'll tell you a little later. Do you s'pose they would dig for coal?"
"Hardly that, either. There isn't the kind of land black diamonds grow in around here, that is, as far as I know."
"Or iron?"
"Scarcely iron," answered Professor Bailey, with a puzzled look at the boy. "But why do you ask me these questions? Are you thinking of turning miner instead of farmer?" with a smile.
"Perhaps," said Roger, and his serious air convinced the professor that the boy had some motive in his inquiries. "You see I can't tell you all about it just now, nor why I want to know this, Professor, but I will some day. I want, most of all, to find out what, if anything, of value could be in the Cardiff hills, that would make men, or a company of capitalists, want to get possession of certain land. It might be, I suppose, coal, or iron, or gold, or something else. The question is, what is it?"
"You are asking me to go ahead pretty much in the dark," objected Professor Bailey.
"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid those are all the clues I can give you now," said Roger.
"Well, I'll do my best to answer your puzzle," went on the teacher. "From what I've read and know of the geological formation about here, I cannot think of any mineral or other deposit that would naturally be expected in this section. But of course it might be that, unknown to any one, except a certain person, there would be a valuable mine of something beneath the surface. Some mineral or quartz, but hardly coal, nor iron, nor gold."
"Perhaps it might be oil," suggested Roger.
"I'm afraid not," was the reply, "though, as I said, almost anything is possible, but in this instance, not very probable. If you were to show me a certain spot, I might be able to say, with more certainty than I can now, whether or not a particular mineral would be apt to be present."
"I can't take you to the place," said Roger, who was determined to guard his secret well, "because I want to keep this quiet as long as I can. But, Professor, if I brought you a sample of rocks, or minerals, or—or—something—could you tell me then?"
"Possibly I could."
"Then I'll see if I can't get some samples for you. But, please don't tell any one I was in to see you about this. Not that there's anything wrong," quickly added Roger, "but," and he advanced closer, "this may mean a good deal to some people, and I don't want to raise hopes and have them disappointed."
"Very well," answered the Professor, a little puzzled about it all, but knowing, from Roger's frank and honest face that there could be nothing but what was right. "Very well. I'll keep quiet, you may depend on it. And, when you bring me something more definite to work on, I'll help you all I can," and, with a hearty handshake, Professor Bailey showed Roger to the door.
"Now," said the boy to himself, as he walked slowly toward his uncle's house, "now to find out what they were digging for. I must get some of that stuff they brought up on the end of the drill. And I'll have to work quickly, for I think Mr. Ranquist suspects that I know."