Four Boy Hunters.

by Captain Ralph Bonehill.

PREFACE

My Dear Lads:

This tale of "_Four Boy Hunters_" is a complete story in itself, but forms the first volume of a line to be called "_The Boy Hunters Series_," taking the heroes through various adventures while searching for big and little game in the woods and in the mountains.

The boys are bright, lively fellows of to-day, with a natural taste for a life in the open, and a fondness for a gun and a rod. In the present volume they organize their little club, and after a good deal of talk obtain permission to go a number of miles from home and establish a camp on the edge of a lake. From this spot they are driven away by one who is their enemy, and then they go elsewhere. They have fun and adventures in plenty, around the camp and while out after both big and little game, and they help to bring to justice two men who are hiding from the officers of the law.

To-day hunting in our country is not what it was some years ago.

Many of the best hunting localities have become settled, and it is becoming harder and harder to catch a sight of a deer, or a moose, or a bear, or, in fact, any wild animal of size. In the far West the buffalo has been practically wiped out, and in the East the deer and moose would also be gone were it not for the protection of the law, which makes it illegal to shoot down such game during the closed season.

With best wishes to all who love a gun and love good hunting, I remain, Your sincere friend, Captain Ralph Bonehill.

CHAPTER I

TARGET SHOOTING AND A PLAN

Cling!

"A bull's-eye!"

Cling!

"Another bull's-eye, I declare!"

Cling!

"Three bull's-eyes, of all things! Snap, you are getting to be a wonder with the rifle. Why, even old Jed Sanborn couldn't do better than that."

Charley Dodge, a bright, manly boy of fifteen, laid down the rifle on the counter in the shooting gallery and smiled quietly. "I guess it was more luck than anything, Shep," he replied. "Perhaps I couldn't do it again."

"Nonsense," came from Sheppard Reed, also a boy of fifteen. "You have got it in you to shoot straight and that is all there is to it. I only wish I could shoot as well."

"How did you fellows make out?" came from a third youth, as he entered the gallery. He was sixteen years old but hardly as large as the average lad of ten.

"Snap just made three bull's-eyes!" cried Shep Red. "Made them as easily as pie, too."

"And what did you make?"

"Made one bull's-eye and two inner rings. Are you going to try your luck, Giant?"

"Humph!---I don't think I can hit the back of the building unless they move it up to me," answered Will Caslette. "But I'll take a chance," he added, turning to the keeper of the gallery and fishing five cents from his pocket. "Got to learn to shoot if I'm going on a hunt, you know," he went on, to his chums.

"Then you can go with us?" questioned Charley Dodge, quickly.

"I think so---mother said she would tell me for certain to-morrow."

The small youth took the rifle handed to him and aiming carefully, pulled the trigger.

"The outer ring," said Shep Reed. "That's not so bad but what it might be worse, Giant."

"Oh, it might be worse!" answered the small youth, coolly. "I might fire out of the window and kill somebody on the back street, or hit a duck in Rackson's pond. Here goes again."

The second shot was a little better, and the third made the bell ring, much to the small youth's delight.

"Hullo, you fellows!" came from the doorway, a lively boy of fourteen came in, curly hair dying and a cap set far back on his head.

"Been looking for you all over town for about sixteen hours.

Been shooting, eh? I'll bet a can of b.u.t.termilk against a shoestring that you all made outer rings."

"Hullo, Whopper!" called the others. "Come in and try your luck."

"Can't---I'm dead broke this morning," answered Frank Dawson.

"I've got to wait a year or two till my next allowance comes in."

"Here's the money," answered Charley Dodge, producing five cents.

"Now, Whopper, don't make more than three bull's-eyes."

"I'm going to make twenty-'leven," answered the boy called Whopper.

"Don't you know that I once went into a gallery in the city and made one hundred bull's-eyes in succession? The proprietor fainted and didn't get over it for two months."

"Phew! That's the biggest whopper yet!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Giant. "Nothing like living up to your reputation."

The boy who could tell big stories on all occasions took up the rifle and shot three times with care, and as a result placed three inner rings to his credit.

"That isn't bad," said Shep Reed. "But Snap is the boss rifleman of this crowd."

"Then we must make him the leader of our gun club," put in Giant.

"What do you say, fellows?"

"That's it!" cried the others.

"Have you fellows got a gun club?" came from the man who kept the shooting gallery, curiously.

"We've got something of that sort," answered the newly declared leader. "You see, we expect to go out on a hunting tour this fall and so we got together and called ourselves a gun club."

"The Fairview Gun Club," corrected Whopper. "Nothing like giving a t.i.tle that looks like something, as the French Count said when he called himself a duke."

"Where is your club going?"

"Oh, just up in the mountains, back of Lake Cameron," answered Snap.

"Is the hunting good there?"