What was a rare thing for Basil to do, he rushed forward without
reloading his gun. A few springs brought him into the open ground, and
in presence of the game. To his astonishment, the bull was not dead,
nor down neither, but only upon his knees--of course wounded. Basil saw
the "crease" of the bullet along the neck of the animal as he drew near.
It was only by a quick glance that he saw this, for as soon as the bull
saw him he rose to his full height--his eyes flashing like a tiger's--
and setting his antlers in a forward position, sprang upon the hunter!
Basil leaped aside to avoid the encounter; and in the first rush was
successful, but the animal turned suddenly, and, coming up a second
time, raised his fore-feet high in the air, and struck forward with his
long-pointed hoofs. Basil attempted to defend himself with his rifle,
but the piece was struck out of his hand in an instant. Once more
avoiding the forward rush of the infuriated beast, the young hunter
looked around for some object to save him. A tree fell under his eye,
and he ran towards it with all his speed. The moose followed close upon
his heels, and he had just time to reach the tree and get around its
trunk, when the animal brushed past, tearing the bark with his sharp
antlers. Basil now slipped round the trunk, and when the moose again
turned himself the two were on opposite sides of the tree! The beast,
however, rushed up, and struck the tree furiously first with his brow
antlers, and then with his hoofs, uttering loud snorts, and at intervals
a shrill whistling sound that was terrible to hear. The disappointment
which the enraged animal felt, at seeing his enemy thus escape him,
seemed to have added to his rage; and he now vented his spite upon the
tree, until the trunk, to the height of six feet, was completely
stripped of its bark. While this was going on, Basil remained behind
the tree, "dodging" round as the moose manoeuvred, and taking care
always to have the animal on the opposite side. To have got into a
safer situation he would have climbed the tree; but it happened to be a
poplar, without a branch for many feet from the ground, and of too great
a girth to be "embraced." He could do nothing, therefore, but remain
upon the ground, and keep the tree-trunk between himself and the bull.
For nearly an hour this lasted, the moose now remaining at rest for a
few minutes, and then making fresh onsets that seemed to abate nothing
in their fury. His rage appeared to be implacable, and his vengeance as
tenacious as that of a tiger or any other beast of prey. The wound
which the hunter had given him was no doubt painful, and kept his
resentment from cooling. Unfortunately, it was not a mortal wound, as
Basil had every opportunity of seeing. The bullet had hit the
fore-shoulder; but, after tearing along the skin, had glanced off
without injuring the bone. It had only enraged the bull, without
crippling him in the least degree. Basil began to dread the result. He
was becoming faint with fatigue as well as hunger. When would he be
relieved? When would the fierce brute feel inclined to leave him?
These were questions which the hunter put to himself repeatedly, without
being able to divine an answer. He had heard of hunters being killed by
wounded moose. He had heard that these creatures will remain for days
watching a person whom they may have "treed." He could not stand it for
days. He would drop down with fatigue, and then the bull would gore and
trample him at pleasure. Would they be able to trace him from the camp?
They would not think of that before nightfall. They would not think of
him as "lost" before that time; and then they could not follow his trail
in the darkness, nor even in the light--for the ground was hard as a
rock, and he had made no footmarks. Marengo might trace him. The dog
had been left at the camp, as Basil preferred "still-hunting" without
him. But in his present situation the hunter's apprehensions were
stronger than his hopes. Even Marengo might be baffled in lifting the
scent. The trail was an exceedingly devious one, for Basil had
meandered round the sides of the hill in search of game. Deer or other
animals might have since crossed it, which might mislead the hound. It
would be cold at night, and much colder next morning. There were many
chances that no relief might reach him from the camp. Impressed with
this conviction, Basil began to feel serious alarm. Not despair,
however--he was not the boy to despair. His mind only grew more alive
to the necessity for action. He looked around to discover some means of
escape. His gun lay not a hundred yards off. Could he only get hold of
the piece, and return safely to the tree again, he could there load it
and put at end to the scene at once. But to reach the gun was
impossible. The moose would bound after and overtake him to a
certainty. The idea of getting the gun was abandoned.
In the opposite direction to that in which the gun lay, Basil perceived
that there were other trees. The nearest was but a dozen yards from
him; and others, again, grew at about the same distance from that one,
and from each other. Basil now conceived the idea of escaping to the
nearest, and from that to the next, and by this means getting back into
the thick forest. Once there, he believed that he would be the better
able to effect his escape, and perhaps reach the camp by dodging from
tree to tree. He could beat the moose for a dozen yards--getting a
little the start of him--and this he hoped to be able to do. Should he
fail in his short race, however--should his foot slip--the alternative
was fearful. _It was no other than death_!
He knew that, but it did not change his resolution to make the attempt.
He only waited for the animal to work round between him and the tree
towards which he intended to run. You will wonder that he did not
prefer to have the moose on the other side. But he did not, for this
reason--had the bull been there, he could have sprung after him at the
first start; whereas, when heading the other way, Basil believed he
could brush close past, and gain an advantage, as the unwieldy brute,
taken by surprise, would require some time in turning himself to give
chase.
The opportunity at length arrived; and nerving himself for the race, the
hunter sprang past the moose, brushing the very tips of its antlers. He
ran without either stopping or even looking back, until he had reached
the tree, and sheltered himself behind its trunk. The moose had
followed, and arrived but the moment after, snorting and whistling
furiously. Enraged at the _ruse_, it attacked this tree, as it had the
other, with hoof and horns; and Basil nimbly evaded both by keeping on
the opposite side, as before.
In a few minutes he prepared himself for a second rush, and once more
started. A third tree was reached in safety--and then a fourth, and a
fifth, and many others, in a similar manner--the moose all the while
following in hot pursuit. Basil had begun to hope that in this way he
would get off, when, to his chagrin, he saw that an open space still
intervened between him and the thick woods, upon which there were only a
few trees, and those so small that not one of them would have sheltered
him. This tract was full two hundred yards in width, and extended all
along the edge of the thick forest. He dared not cross it. The moose
would overtake him before he could get half the way; and he was obliged
to give up the idea of making the attempt.
As he stood behind the last tree he had reached, he saw that it
branched, and the lowest branches grew but a little above his head. He
could easily climb it, and at once resolved to do so. He would there be
safe for the time, and could at least rest himself, for he was now weak
with fatigue. He, therefore, stretched up his hands, and, laying hold
of a branch, swung himself up into the tree. Then climbing up a little
higher, he sat down on one of the forks.
The moose appeared as furious as ever; and ran round the tree, now
striking it with his horns, and then rearing upon his hind-legs, and
pouncing against the trunk with his hoofs. At times his snout was so
close to Basil, that the latter could almost touch it; and he had even
drawn his hunting-knife, and reached down with the intent of giving the
creature a stab.
This last action led to a train of thought, and Basil seemed suddenly to
adopt some new resolution. Leaving the fork where he had perched
himself, he climbed higher up the tree; and, selecting one of the
longest and straightest branches, commenced cutting it off close to the
trunk. This was soon effected; and then, drawing it along his knee, he
trimmed off all the twigs and tops until the branch became a straight
pole, like a spear-handle. Along one end of this he laid the handle of
his knife; and with thongs, which he had already cut out of the strap of
his bullet-pouch, he spliced the knife and pole together. This gave him
a formidable weapon--for the knife was a "bowie," and had a long blade,
with a point like a rapier. He was not slow in using it. Descending
again to the lowermost limbs, he commenced making demonstrations, in
order to bring the moose within reach. This he very soon succeeded in
doing; and the animal ran forward and reared up against the tree.
Before it could get upon its four legs again, Basil had thrust it in the
neck, giving full force to the blow. The blood rushed forth in a thick
stream, as the jugular vein had been cut by the keen blade; and the huge
brute was seen to totter in its steps, and then fall with a dull heavy
sound to the earth. In a few moments the hunter had the satisfaction of
perceiving that it was quite dead.
Basil now dropped out of the tree, and walking back to where his rifle
lay, took up the piece and carefully reloaded it. He then returned to
the moose, and opening the great jaws of the animal, gagged them with a
stick. He next unspliced his knife, took off the gristly lips, and cut
out the tongue. These he placed in his game-bag, and shouldering his
rifle, was about to depart; when some new idea caused him to halt, put
down his gun, and again unsheath his knife. Once more approaching the
carcass, he made an incision near the kidneys; and having inserted his
hand, drew forth what appeared to be a part of the intestines. It was
the bladder. He then looked around as if in search of something.
Presently his eye rested upon some tall reed-grass that was growing
near. This was just what he wanted, and, pulling up one of the stems,
he cut and fashioned it into a pipe. With this the moose-bladder was
blown out to its full dimensions, and tied at the neck by a piece of
thong. The other end of the thong was fastened to one of the branches
of the tree above, so that the bladder dangled within a few feet of the
carcass of the moose, dancing about with the lightest breath of wind.
All these precautions Basil had taken to keep the wolves from devouring
the moose--for it was his intention to return and butcher it, as soon as
he could get help. When he had hung the bladder to his liking, he put
up his knife again; and, once more shouldering his rifle, walked off.
On reaching the camp--which he did shortly after--the tongue of the
moose was broiled without delay, and, after making a delicious meal of
it, the whole party went off for the remainder of the meat. They found
it all quite safe; although, had it not been for the bladder, not much
of it would have been there--as no less than a dozen great gaunt wolves
were seen lurking about, and these would have eaten it up in the
shortest possible time. The bladder, however, had kept them off; for,
strange to say, these creatures, who are as cunning as foxes, and can
hardly be trapped, can yet be deceived and frightened by such a simple
thing as a bladder dangling from a branch.
The moose proved to be one of the largest of his kind. His height was
quite equal to that of a horse; and his horns, flattened out to the
breadth of shovels, weighed over sixty pounds. His carcass was not less
than fifteen hundred pounds weight; and our voyageurs had to make two
journeys to convey the meat to their camp. On the last journey,
Francois brought the porcupine as well--having found it on the very same
tree where Basil had left it!