DICK'S MOOSE
Hank Merwin ceased plying his paddle and the boat rested almost
motionless.
The jacklight revealed a sight which might have thrilled even a veteran
hunter. The boys found it hard to steady their tingling nerves.
"Gee!" gasped Dick Travers. "I never----"
But a stern, though almost inaudible admonition from Hank Merwin
effectually silenced him.
In spite of the glare of light which streamed over them, the infuriated
moose continued their deadly combat. Bellowing and snorting, they
reared and plunged, striking with both hoofs and horns, churning the
shallow water into foam and trampling down the lilies and rushes which
grew thickly about.
The novelty of the situation, the weird light, cutting its way through
the blackness, and the struggle to the death, made it seem more like
some wild dream than reality, and the chums rested almost motionless,
half expecting, each moment, that their presence would be discovered.
But the monarchs of the forest were too intent upon their war. Although
of clumsy build, with huge head, short neck and long, ungainly fore
legs, they moved about with wonderful speed.
Suddenly their antlers came together with terrific force, and two
foam-flecked bodies swayed back and forth. The battle raged hotter.
Now the smaller animal was borne almost to his knees; then, recovering
himself, forced the other back, and the latter, in turn exerting his
enormous strength to the utmost, pushed his rival partly around.
A huge head was silhouetted for an instant against the background; a
spreading pair of antlers descended. The blow was struck with all the
force that a powerful pair of shoulders could give--a blow of crushing
force.
The smaller animal staggered; a snort of agony and rage echoed over the
lake, as he flopped to his knees, sending forth a circling wave to
surge against the sides of the boat.
"He's done for," breathed Dick.
[Illustration: "HE'S DONE FOR."]
"No--not yet. Look--he's game."
The fighters were on the edge of the jacklight now, and Dick's hands
trembled with excitement as he adjusted the reflector.
The moose, with a desperate effort, bravely arose and locked horns
again.
Then it was that Dave Brandon aroused himself.
"Quick, Dick Travers," he exclaimed, in a thrilling whisper, "quick!
What's the matter with you--get your picture!"
The official photographer had almost forgotten his mission. But he
set about repairing his error with so much energy that he nearly fell
overboard.
A warning "sh--sh" from Hank steadied him, and, to his relief, the
animals paid no heed.
Eagerly, he again adjusted the light and sighted the camera.
"Ready, Dave," he whispered. "Set off the powder."
A blinding glare followed, and Dick Travers gave a low cry of triumph.
"As sure as you live, I got it," he murmured, exultantly. "Christopher!"
The combat was approaching an end.
The larger moose backed away, then plunged forward.
Crash! Its antlers landed with telling force; its antagonist staggered,
sank to his knees, then toppled heavily over, and a wave surged forth
as he fell among the water-lilies and rushes. The mountains threw back
on the night air the conqueror's bellow of triumph.
Then, as if conscious for the first time of danger, the moose wheeled
sharply about and made for the shore as fast as his exhausted condition
would permit.
In an instant, Dick had raised his rifle, and, seeing this, Hank Merwin
lowered his own.
"At him, lad; and shoot straight," he encouraged.
There was a flash and a report--the moose fell backward on his haunches.
"I've got him!" yelled Dick, in great excitement.
But, almost as he spoke, there was a floundering in the water; the
wounded and enraged animal staggered to his feet and charged directly
for the boat.
It was a critical moment.
But Hank Merwin did not lose his head. With a quick stroke, he sent the
craft forward, and, as he turned it, the rays of the jacklight swept
past the charging moose to the shore beyond.
"He's coming right for us!" yelled Dick, in terror.
"Don't none of yer shoot," commanded the trapper, sharply.
The moose was right behind them. Its ungainly form could be dimly seen,
as it lumbered through the dense aquatic growth, bent on vengeance.
But Hank shot the boat out in deep water, then quickly turned. The
jacklight was again directed toward the moose.
Its rays were barely in time to reveal a most unexpected sight. The
animal suddenly staggered and fell.
Dick Travers' shot, together with the wounds received in battle, had
proved too much for the gallant old beast, whose eyes glared defiance
to the last.
"Hurrah!" cried the official photographer, in a wild burst of
enthusiasm. "Oh, Christopher! Isn't this a piece of luck? Got a picture
and brought down a moose--how's that, Dave, old boy?" and in his
delight, he slapped his friend vigorously on the shoulder. "Ain't I a
hunter, eh?"
"Yes, lad, didn't do bad," put in Hank, kindly, "but if the ole critter
hadn't had that tussle--wal--you'd be a heap wetter'n you are now, an'
the boat might have been smashed ter bits."
"I say, Hank, could--I--I get the antlers?" asked Dick, breathlessly.
"Sartin, my lad. I'll fix 'em fur ye. I'd best be gittin' ter work
right away, too."
Hank Merwin's sharp hunting-knife began to do wonders. He cut and
slashed in a manner which showed his familiarity with such work.
Finally, the head, skin and several choice pieces of meat lay in the
bottom of the boat.
"To-morrer we'll come over an' finish the job," declared Hank. "Ye
sartingly were in luck, lads. It was a sight that many an ole stager
in the woods ain't seen."
"We've had a grand trip," said Dave, "and when we get back I'm going to
celebrate by taking the biggest snooze I ever had."
Bob Somers and Jim Havens were greatly astonished when they learned
what had happened.
"Christopher! Just look at that pair of horns!" exclaimed the captain,
as the moose's head was dragged ashore. "Greatest luck I ever heard
of," he added, "and if that picture only comes out right, won't it make
some of the Kingswood boys open their eyes?"
"I guess it will," laughed Dick. "And we ought to have a few more
adventures before the trip is over. When do we start climbing again?"
"Day after to-morrow."
"Thought it was week after next," drawled Dave.
"Why not stay a while longer, lads?" put in Hank Merwin.
But Bob shook his head.
"Sam and little Tommy Clifton must have their fling at it pretty
soon," he said. "Guess they think we're lost already."
Next morning, the four piled into Hank Merwin's boat, and were paddled
to the scene of the battle. They helped the trapper skin the second
moose, and spent the rest of the day fishing. A good haul of trout
resulted.
On the following morning, immediately after breakfast, Hank Merwin
rowed them to the far end of the lake. He was sorry to see them go, but
the boys assured him that they would be back in a few days.
"It's funny," remarked Dick, after they had been on the way for some
time, "how close that mountain looked to the lake, and we've been
walking and walking."
"And haven't even come to the base," grumbled Dave. "That's always the
way with mountains--they do it on purpose."
"Notice how the trees have thinned out?" queried Havens; "well, this
place is called 'Scattered Pines.' Used to be a lot of moose around
here--guess there are still. But come ahead, fellows; we have a long
climb."
Presently, between the pines, a stream appeared in view. It sang so
cheerily that Dave was charmed.
"Oh, ho," he murmured, as he reached the bank; "makes me think of that
poem by--"
"That will do, Chubby," laughed Dick.
"By Bryant. It begins--now listen----"
"Great Cæsar, fellows, keep quiet," broke in Bob, in a low tone. "What
in the dickens is that straight ahead? Look, Havens--there--it moved!"
"A bear, and I'll bet a grizzly," said Jim.
"Where--where, for goodness' sake?" asked Dick, gazing wildly around.
"Right on that fallen tree," answered Dave.
"The old rascal is fishing. See--he scooped up something then."
"Sure he did," agreed Havens. "Grizzlies are great fishers, and the
old dub there is so anxious to get a square meal that he hasn't even
noticed us."
"Let's creep up on him," proposed Jim. "But you'll need all your nerve.
Who wants to go?"
"Huh! Do you think we came out here to hunt sparrows?" whispered Dick,
scornfully, and the others smiled.
Very cautiously, and keeping out of sight as much as possible, the
quartet pushed ahead, and presently arrived at a point where the bear
could be plainly seen.
He was stretched out on a trunk which had fallen across the stream,
forming a natural bridge. His broad, massive head lay far over, and his
gaze was fixed intently upon the water below. His powerful right paw,
ready for instant action, hung low, but the heavy, brownish yellow form
seemed as motionless as the trunk itself.
The grizzly was not resting, however, or merely enjoying the pleasant
sunshine. He was working for his living, and doing it in a thorough and
efficient manner.
Quick as a flash, his paw struck the water, and when it came out, a
glistening, wriggling fish was tossed on the bank.
"Fellows, I'm going to make a snap-shot of that," whispered Dick, in
great excitement. "By jingo--look at him eating! That is a sight worth
seeing, eh?"
"Quick, then," said Havens, in cautious tones.
With hands that trembled in spite of himself, Dick Travers sighted the
camera, and just as the grizzly was again making a catch, its click
sounded sharply.
Success emboldened them to wait and try to get another. The bear
continued his feasting, and all was silent. At least the boys were sure
they were acting with commendable caution. Whether they were mistaken
in this, or whether something else attracted the animal's attention,
they never knew, but Dick Travers, about to take another look through
the camera, drew back as if he had been shot.
The bear slowly turned his head; then, with a sort of coughing growl,
arose, and his powerful frame was silhouetted against the firs on the
opposite bank. In another moment, he had lumbered off the tree trunk,
and was pushing forward directly toward the venturesome hunters.