A GREAT MOOSE CHASE
All were anxious to learn if the shelter on the island had been
disturbed during their absence. When they arrived at the spot they found
everything as they had left it, much to their satisfaction.
“I’m going to take it easy for a day,” said Joe. “I think we all deserve
a rest.”
“Second the commotion,” said Fred, and so they rested.
“I’ve got to go home,” said Teddy. “I’m sorry to leave you all, but it
can’t be helped.” And he left them that noon, all hands giving him a
rousing cheer as he departed. He carried with him four rabbits taken
from the traps and also a very fat turkey which Joel Runnell managed to
lay low for him.
The boys all felt that their hunting tour must soon come to an end, and
having rested, they resolved to make the most of the time that still
remained to them.
“We may never get another chance to go out like this,” said Harry. “One
thing I’d like to bring down before we leave. That is a moose.”
“I guess a moose would suit all of us,” cried Link. “But I don’t think
we are going to get any. Moose are mighty scarce around here.”
“Link is right,” put in Joel Runnell. “But for all that we may spot one
before we go.”
“Oh, have you seen any signs of a moose?” ejaculated Harry.
“I’ve seen some signs that may have been made by a moose, although a big
deer would leave the same marks.”
The shelter was now a very cozy place, for all of the boys spent their
leisure time in fixing it up. They had long ago named it Two-Tree Lodge,
and Fred had cut out a sign with his jackknife and this was hung over
the doorway.
“If folks only knew what a fine camping-out spot this island is, I dare
say there would be many more people here,” declared Bart.
It must not be imagined that Joe and Harry had forgotten about Hiram
Skeetles’ missing pocketbook, that which contained the papers of so much
value.
“We must hunt for those papers, Joe,” said Harry, and they went out not
once but several times. But, although they hunted high and low, among
the bushes, rocks, and in the snow, the pocketbook and the valuable
papers failed to come to light. The most they found was the real estate
dealer’s business card, which Joe picked up late one afternoon.
“Hullo! I’ve found old Skeetles’ card,” he sang out, and Harry rushed to
his side to look it over.
“Anything else, Joe?”
“No. But this card shows that we are on the right track.”
“That is true.”
After the card was found they hunted around until long after dark, but
nothing else was discovered, much to their disappointment.
“Perhaps the pocketbook was washed into the lake after all,” said Fred,
who was very much interested, and who had hunted some on his own
account. “If you’ll remember, we had some pretty hard rains before
winter set in.”
One day all of the boys went gunning deep into the woods back of the
shelter. They went on their snowshoes, and managed to scare up eight
rabbits, four squirrels, and seven partridges. It was a beautiful day
for such sport, and in addition to bringing down his share of the game,
Harry procured several photographs, one showing Joe in the act of
bringing down two partridges with one shot.
“That will prove that you are an out-and-out hunter, Joe,” said Harry,
after the snap shot was taken. “They can’t go back on a picture.”
“Oh, you must remember, there are lots of trick photos,” said Joe, with
a laugh. “Don’t you remember that one we saw of a man shooting at
himself?”
“Yes,” put in Link, “and I once saw a picture of a man riding himself in
a wheelbarrow. But we can all testify that this is no trick photo.”
Sunday the boys took it easy, and it was a rest well earned and well
needed.
“Now for the last of our outing,” sighed Harry. “This week will wind it
up.”
“Let us look at the traps,” came from Bart, and he and Link and Fred did
so, and found in them two rabbits and a squirrel. There were also signs
of a wolf around two of the traps, but they did not catch sight of the
beast.
“I fancy that wolf wanted to get one of our rabbits,” said Link.
“Perhaps we scared him off just in time.”
“I want nothing to do with wolves,” said Bart. “If they’ll let me alone,
I’ll let them alone.”
A couple of days later old Runnell came in somewhat excited. “Unless I
am greatly mistaken, I have seen the track of a moose,” he said. “I am
going to follow up the tracks. Who wants to go along?”
Who? All of them, and they said so in chorus, while each reached for his
gun. Old Runnell made them put on their snowshoes and fill their game
bags with provisions.
“We may be gone until to-morrow,” he said. “Running down a moose is no
easy thing, even if the snow is deep.”
The route lay along the shore and then across the lake to the mainland.
They struck the shore at a point where the pines were heavy, and Joe
Runnell showed the young hunters where the moose had stopped to feed.
“He’s after some tender bark,” said the old hunter. “See how he nosed
around in the snow for it.”
After a brief rest they continued their journey, but night found the
game still out of sight, and they had to go into camp in the best
shelter they could find.
“Never mind,” said Harry. “A moose isn’t to be found here every day.”
“No, nor every week, either,” added old Runnell. “So far I haven’t heard
of a single one being brought down this winter.”
They were up again before sunrise and following the tracks as before.
These now led up a rise of ground and Joel Runnell went in advance.
“The tracks are getting fresher,” he announced. “I don’t think he’s a
mile off at the most.”
They went on for a short distance farther, and then Joe put up his hand.
“Hark!” he said, in a low voice. “What sort of a noise is that?”
They listened, and from a distance heard a scraping and sawing that was
most unusual.
“We’ve got him!” said old Runnell. “That’s the moose rubbing himself on
a tree.”
He crept forward, with the others close behind. Soon they came to a
little opening in the forest. Here were several rocks backed up by a
clump of hemlocks. Against one of the hemlocks stood a tall, magnificent
moose, with wide-spreading antlers. He had been scraping his back on the
rough bark, and now he proceeded to repeat the operation.
“You boys can all fire at the same time,” whispered Joel Runnell. “I’ll
wait and see what you can do.” And giving them time to take aim, he gave
the signal.
The guns rang out together almost as one piece, causing a tremendous
report to echo throughout the forest, and filling the little opening
with smoke.
“You’ve got him!” shouted Joel Runnell, with as much joy in his voice as
if he had brought the game down himself. And when the smoke lifted they
saw the moose totter and pitch headlong. Once, twice the animal tried to
rise up, then over he went with a thud on the rocks, gave a kick or two,
and lay still.
With loud shouts of triumph the young hunters rushed in. But old Runnell
held them back.
“Beware,” he cried. “He may give a last kick that will split some one’s
head open. Wait!” And they waited until they were certain that life was
extinct.
“What a beautiful haul!” came from Bart. “And see, every one of us hit
him in the neck and breast.”
“I’m glad we didn’t hit him in the face,” said Joe. “We can mount that
head and it will be something fine.”
“Yes, but who is to keep it?” asked Harry.
“We can take turns,” was the answer, and this caused a laugh.
To get such large game back to the camp at Needle Rock was not easy, and
it took them until long after nightfall to cover the distance, and then
all were thoroughly exhausted. The moose was placed in a safe place, and
they retired without taking the trouble to cook a regular supper.