THE VICTORIOUS HUNTERS
“Scatter away out!” yelled Frank. “Get away from him and get to those
trees! Keep your guns ready!”
The boys had stopped at the first evidence of the moose’s charge, but
now they scattered still further, so that the big fellow could charge
on but one of them at a time.
The one he chose for his first victim was Frank, who was at the center
of this string of boys.
As he came straight for Frank, the boy started moving in a circle off
to the right, the moose changing his own path so that he would meet
Frank. His red eyes, flashing fire, his head tossed back, snorting, he
made directly for the boy!
As the big bull came bearing down on Frank at full speed, the young
fellow stopped like a dead weight, changed his path and darted past the
moose to his left as the big animal threw out its forefeet to strike
Frank down.
It was a close call, and Frank realized that he was facing an enemy
that was not only angry, determined to put down this man-enemy, but
was also wily and had a body which, though large, could be handled with
agility.
“Don’t shoot yet!” Frank yelled. “Get to the trees!”
The boys went on a burst of speed, though their feet dragged heavily
through snow that was almost up to the knees. Frank turned and saw the
moose coming at them again with his eyes wider and more fiery, coming
to protect his charges, the cows, from the hands of men. This time the
animal was headed straight for Lanky.
Frank stopped, raised his rifle, took aim, and let go.
A loud snarl and a snort came from the big animal as the moose reared
high in the air on his hind legs and lashed out furiously with its
forelegs. In the meanwhile Lanky got away farther from it.
The animal now turned its attention to the direction from which the
shot had come, and bore straight for Frank again, but Frank was close
to a tree, so he ducked behind it before the moose could charge him.
As the animal passed the tree, Jack Eastwick raised his rifle and
fired. Two of the other boys did the same with their shotguns. A wild
snorting told them that something was hurting the big fellow or that
the shooting was making him angrier.
The cows were huddled together in the little grove.
The moose bull wheeled, stood on his hind legs, and brought down his
forefeet to the ground with a terrific clicking sound.
He stood near the cows, sniffing, snorting, snarling, his right forepaw
stamping the ground, his body quivering.
Of a sudden he made a lunge forward, his head down, his great spread of
antlers looking as if they were many yards wide, dashing straight at
Buster Billings!
Buster became frightened for the moment. He darted from behind the tree
and made for another, yelling loudly as he went.
Frank’s rifle spoke, the bullet went true to the hind flank of the
moose. It reared high in pain and turned back toward Frank. Buster for
the moment was out of danger.
Angrier than ever, fighting mad, red eyes dancing, head swinging from
side to side, nostrils fairly blowing fire out into the cold air, the
King of the lake country made a lunge at Jack Eastwick, whose position
was to the right of Frank.
Jack, behind a tree, calmly took bead on the great beast and pulled
the trigger just as the moose threw his head downward. The shot missed
the point at which it was aimed, and, instead, struck the moose in the
shoulder.
Into the air he reared, again that loud bellow of anger or of pain,
perhaps both, and the big body came down against the tree with such
mighty force that the trunk broke off, the tree falling sharply away.
Frank gasped, for it seemed that Jack Eastwick was caught behind it.
But Jack, as he saw the animal throw its entire weight at the tree, had
leaped away quickly enough to be out of reach.
As the tree went over, the animal went with it, falling to its knees.
In that instant three of the boys had their guns on it, and each one
fired. But the shots must have missed in the hurry, for there came no
cry of pain as there had been before. Instead, the snarl was strictly
one of anger as the moose came quickly back to his feet, wheeling to
attack.
Straight at Buster once more he went, full head on, his antlers close
to the ground, his effort being to toss the boy as he had tossed that
moose a few days before.
Buster lost his nerve again, but this time was not to get away so
easily. Two big trees stood back of him. He turned to run, and dashed
headlong into the trees which stood close together.
Back he bounced, stunned by the force of the impact, just as the great
moose lifted his forefeet high in air to strike.
Frank’s position was only twenty feet away.
Crack! His rifle spoke as he drew bead on the eye of this big animal,
getting center just at the moment when the body was still, poised high
in air.
Buster staggered to one side and fell to the ground.
The moose dropped his forefeet with a clack to the ground, not missing
Buster’s body more than a foot, and staggered blindly against the trees.
The boys stood as if rooted.
For a moment the great animal wavered in his struggle to stand, then
the front legs seemed to crumble beneath the weight, the body settled
forward, the head dropped to one side, and then the entire body toppled
against the trees!
Frank watched it all with wonderful interest.
“I believe we got it!” he called. “Don’t go too close! Let’s be sure!”
With that he walked in a wide circle around the trees to see what the
animal looked like from the front.
At sight of Frank the bull moose tried to raise his body, but could
not, and the eye closed. From the other eye a stream of blood was
flowing. His aim had been true.
The cows, huddled together some distance away, looked at the scene as
if they expected their great protector to rise and fight again. But his
fighting days were over. A younger hunter than he had ever attacked
had brought him down. The King had bowed his head at last in defeat.
“How are we going to get him back to camp?” asked Lanky. “We’ve got to
take him, you know.”
“The sled! Sure!” yelled Jack Eastwick.
A cry of joy went up from all the boys at this suggestion. They had
built just the means of transportation for getting this big fellow out
of the woods.
Slowly the struggle for life was giving up. Frank’s bullet must have
gone to the brain. The body showed convulsive movements for a while,
and then slowly, very slowly, first one leg, then the other reached
out, and the entire body sank to the ground.
The King was no more.
Frank suggested that four of the boys go back immediately for the
sled, which was still over at the cabin, fully two hours away, while
the others remained to take care of the body, fearing that some animal
might get it.
Their protector did not rise. These man-enemies stayed around. Quietly
the cows edged away from the scene, and when the boys turned, thinking
of them, to see what had happened to them, they were far down the alley
of trees, disappearing in a break in the hills behind the grove.
Several hours it took the four boys to get the sled back to this point,
and several hours more were consumed in getting the big carcass
loaded and moved across to the cabin, the boys having to stop at their
temporary camp to pick up things there, loading these, too, on top of
the sled.
Eight husky boys pulled the sled across the lake, coming up to the
shoreline at dusk, weary yet enthusiastic. They had done what many
other huntsmen had failed to do.
That evening saw them making plans to break camp early in the morning,
using the sled to take their moose back to Todds, but not knowing how
they could get it down to Columbia.
“Why, the Harrapin is frozen over, sure!” said Tom Budd. “We’ll just
drag the sled all the way. No chance for you fellows to get your motor
boat out until the thaw comes.”
Early the next morning, things having been packed the previous evening,
these eight boys started trekking back the long trail to Todds, elated
over their expedition, with tales aplenty to tell their friends, for
the bringing down of this moose bull had filled them with excitement.
At Todds they found the keeper of the hotel waiting for them to come.
He said he had been expecting them because he had heard of the trouble
between them and Jeek, Jeek having told him the boys would leave his
hunting paraphernalia there.
Frank was not certain what he should do, but finally decided that
the hotel-keeper could be trusted, and left Jeek’s belongings, thus
lightening their load very considerably.
When the hotel-keeper heard of the manner in which they had brought
down the great moose bull, he heartily congratulated the boys, and
refused to take pay for the meal he placed before them as a noon-day
help.
“Can we make it by to-night to Columbia?” Frank asked him.
“Sure my boy,” came the big-throated reply. “You can skate down the
Harrapin pulling your sled faster than you motored up, eh? What? Can’t
you?”
“Sounds reasonable,” Frank replied, smiling pleasantly.
Immediately after the noon-day meal the boys rested for fifteen
minutes, then pulled out along the frozen river for Columbia. Eight
strong boys pulling on the rope, skating evenly, regularly, soon
brought the sled and its precious load within sight of their home town.
Up to the boatlanding they came, unheralded, just at the close of the
day, dragged their sled up the incline, and started through the streets
of Columbia for the home of Frank Allen. This was to be their goal.
The attention they attracted was so great that they were halted before
they turned off Main Street to the street on which Frank lived, and
questions were fired at them and explanations demanded.
Friends gathered around to congratulate the boys, while one of the
newspaper men got alongside and asked questions so that he could write
the story of their prowess.
Arriving home at last, they stormed the Allen house, Helen and her
mother hurrying to the door as the heavy tramp and loud talking and
laughing of the boys were heard. Mr. Allen sat in the front room as the
boys trooped in. Mr. Van Kirk was paying a visit to the Allen family,
and was there to greet the boys on their return.
Helen hurried to the telephone to call Minnie Cuthbert, but some one
else had telephoned to Minnie from downtown, and she came hurrying into
the house even while Helen was calling.
“Congratulations!” She rushed across the room to shake hands with Frank
and welcome him, and all his friends, back. She had stopped long enough
outside the house to see the moose on the sled.
Mr. Van Kirk went out, followed by the troop of boys, to identify the
big animal.
“That’s the King, Frank! That’s the fellow! Now, tell me all about it,”
he said excitedly.
Time after time, for each new visitor who came to the house, the boys
told the story. Lanky laid stress on the fact that Frank had brought
down the big moose at a critical moment, but Frank treated it all
modestly.
“I’m going up first thing in the morning to thank Mrs. Parsons, and I
want all you fellows to go along,” said Frank, when the party began to
break up.
At once all the boys agreed. They were happy enough to thank her in the
heartiest fashion for the great camping expedition which she had given
them a chance to enjoy.
THE END
The New Western Series
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RAW GOLD Clem Yore
DON QUICKSHOT LOOKING FOR TROUBLE Stephen Chalmers
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RUSTLERS’ RANGE George C. Shedd
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TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:
1. Spellings have been standardised only when a dominant version was
found in the original.
2. Typographical errors have been corected.
3. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.