The Outdoor Chums After Big Game | Page 8

his light. All of
us are not made alike, Jerry. One man's food is poison to another. You
and I are fond of fishing and shooting, but Will is more of an artist. He
delights in stalking the timid deer in the close season, and shooting him
with his camera. Lots of people believe his way of securing pleasure
beats ours all hollow."

"Anyhow, it doesn't thin out the game," asserted Will stoutly.
Jerry stopped short to turn a look of pity on his comrade.
"Think how hungry we'd all go out in camp if we depended on your
blessed old box for supper," he suggested witheringly.
"All very true," remarked Frank as they reached the other motorcycles,
and prepared to continue their interrupted journey to the camp of the
trapper; "which is proof of what I say, that many men, many minds.
There's room for all kinds in a party."
"Yes; and nobody likes to look over my prints more than Jerry,"
grumbled Will, feeling quite offended.
"Don't pay any attention to him. He doesn't mean anything by it. You
know how he likes to joke every one. Now, we're off again, boys."
Once more they made their way along the rough road. The sight of
those two unfortunates sprawling upon the ground was a lesson,
warning the riders against trying for speed under such conditions, so
they made haste slowly.
Upon arriving at the cabin home of the trapper they surprised him very
much; and when Jesse Wilcox learned the object of their visit he was
more pleased than ever.
They spent some hours with him, and even assisted in getting the
evening meal. From their long experience now the boys had become
quite proficient in this line, and were able to show old Jesse quite a few
tricks that delighted him.
With the campfire blazing merrily, they ate supper alongside his rough
cabin home. Of course, they fairly deluged him with questions about
the habits of the big game of the West, which he answered to the best
of his ability.
"Wait till we get out with Martin Mabie, fellows. He's on the ground,

and can set us straight. Jesse has been trapping these little animals
around here so long now he's a back number," joked Jerry, at which the
trapper laughed, for he was very fond of these four lads, and nothing
they said annoyed him.
As they had planned, the run home was made by moonlight. This
necessitated that they walk with their machines until the good road was
gained, below the lumber camp.
"I wonder whether those two tramps hit the high places, and got out of
this neighborhood for keeps?" Bluff was saying, after they had
mounted and were bowling along merrily toward town.
"The chances are that way. That tramp printer must be a bad sort of
chap, it seems to me, and if Hank keeps along in his society I can see
his finish," answered Jerry over his shoulder.
They had not made more than a mile when once more Frank gave a
quick toot of his horn that brought the little procession up in a hurry.
"What ails us now?" demanded Bluff.
"Frank's bending over something in the road, as sure as you live!"
called Will.
"Tell me about that, will you! Seems as if our lively times haven't
stopped yet. It never rains but it pours, fellows. Hi! Frank, what's the
matter? Say! Would you believe it? There's a man lying in the road!"
Jerry made haste to push his heavy motorcycle forward so as to reach
the side of his kneeling chum.
"It's Hank Brady, boys, and he seems to be in a bad way. Something
has happened to him since we saw him last," said Frank, looking up.
"Goodness gracious! Is he dead?" gasped Will, his eyes dilating in
horror.
"I don't know yet, but I'm going to find out," replied Frank, bending

over so that he could press his ear upon the breast of the man in the
road.
"And that tramp printer, where's he at?" asked Jerry suggestively. "Tell
me that, will you?"
CHAPTER IV
STARTING HANK RIGHT
"He's alive, all right!" was the announcement of Frank presently.
"I hear water close by. Hold on, and I'll get some," said Will hurrying
away.
Even Jerry was desirous of helping as best he could. He took hold with
Frank, and the insensible Hank was carried alongside the road, to where
some grass grew, and offered a softer resting place.
Had it been a friend who was thus in need of succor, they could hardly
have shown more energy in attending to his wants.
"He's coming to," said Bluff after Frank had sprinkled the scratched
face with some of the cold water.
There was a deep sigh, then Frank saw