In this way he passed the long, terrible hours of the night. But as soon as it began to grow light he untied the dogs, and took a circle of several miles through the woods, hoping that he might find some trace of the missing hunter. But he remembered the old man’s instruction that he was not to leave the camp to go any very great distance, and after two hours of futile search he returned in despair.
The dogs, seeming to realize that something was wrong, were alert to every unusual sound; and when Larry would spring up and peer through the trees expectantly, they would leap about and bark excitedly. But the sun rose higher and higher, and still Martin did not come.
At last the boy could stand the suspense no longer. In defiance of Martin’s explicit instructions he decided to leave the camp and try to find him. The thought that the old man must have been injured, or taken ill, kept forcing itself into the boy’s mind. An experienced hunter like Martin would not lose his way; and moreover, if he should become confused, he would still have his own trail to follow back to camp; for this trail was well marked in the snow. In any event, Larry could not remain inactive any longer with these terrible fears tearing at his heart.
So he harnessed the dogs tandem to one of the empty toboggans, strapped on his snow-shoes, and started out following Martin’s trail of the day before. At first he took the lead, running at top speed; but presently he found that, since the trail had been broken out by Martin, he could make better time by letting the dogs haul him on the toboggan. His weight was so much less than the load they were accustomed to haul that now they ran along the trail at high speed, following Martin’s tracks without any guiding instructions.
For two hours they went forward, Kim leading, his nose close to the snow, and both dogs keenly alert. The tracks wound in and out among the thickets, indicating where Martin had explored likely looking places for game, but their general direction was toward the southwest, the course the old hunter had said he should take. Once the snow-shoe trail had followed the track of a deer for half a mile; but evidently the animal was not overtaken, for presently they found where Martin turned off into his original course again.
By noon the dogs had begun to slacken their pace a little, and Larry, thoroughly discouraged, had decided that he would retrace his course, when they reached the crest of a low hill a short distance ahead, which seemed to command a view of the country for some distance around. If nothing could be seen of Martin from this hill, he would face about and return to camp; and more than likely he should find the old man there waiting for him. Hardly had he reached this decision, however, when Kim stopped so suddenly that Jack and the toboggan bumped into him, and stood with bristling hair and stiffened muscles for a moment, and then made a frantic leap forward, snarling and barking.
At the same time Jack seemed to have discovered the cause of his mate’s excitement, and it was only by twisting the sled rope about a sapling that Larry prevented them from dashing madly off into the woods. Yet he was unable to discover the cause of their actions, although he peered intently through the trees in all directions. But whatever the cause, he knew that they had scented something quite out of the ordinary; and as a precaution he drew the little rifle from its case and made sure that the firing-pin was set for the heavy cartridge.
Then he took a firm grip on Kim’s collar, putting all his weight against the dog’s strength, and advanced cautiously through the trees toward the top of the hill.
The crest of this hill had been cleared of large timber years before by a forest fire, and there was an open space for several hundred yards beyond. When Larry reached this cleared space he saw a sight that made his heart leap into his throat and his hair seem to lift his cap. His hand trembled so violently that he came near dropping his rifle, and his breathing ceased altogether for a moment.
For at the opposite side of the clearing stood a huge animal, tall and gaunt, its thick neck supporting a head like a great black barrel crowned with a pair of thickly pointed horns that seemed as long as the toboggan from tip to tip. The great creature stood facing him, the long, coarse hair about its head and neck standing out straight, its fore legs wide apart, its hind legs slightly bent ready for a spring forward. All about it for a space of several yards the snow was trampled into a hard bed and blotched with blood.
In the center of this trampled space was a huge boulder, and just beside it a sapling perhaps six inches in diameter. Perched on the top of the boulder and only a few inches out of reach of the great antlers, old Martin lay huddled. Or, to be more exact, what appeared to be a bundle of Martin’s clothes that looked as if they might have been hurled there by the infuriated animal. The mystery of the old man’s failure to return to camp was explained.
At the sight of the huge animal so close at hand the dogs became absolutely frantic; and knowing that it would be folly to try to control them further, and wishing to give them every possible advantage in the fight that was now inevitable, the boy slipped the harness from each.
As the dogs bounded toward the wounded animal, the moose sprang forward to meet them, snorting fiercely; but in doing this the heavy creature put itself at once at a disadvantage. For its hoofs broke through the crust at every step, while the dogs kept their footing on the surface, darting in and out, snapping fiercely at legs and flank.
The noise of this battle roused Martin from the stupor into which he had fallen, so that he raised his head, and then gradually dragged himself into a sitting posture. Then, as he recognized the dogs, and saw Larry hurrying forward, new life thrilled the old man, and he began waving his hand and shouting feebly to the boy.
At first his voice was so low that the boy could not hear it above the din; but as he approached the rock, waiting for a favoring moment to place his one shot in some vital spot, he could make out some of Martin’s instructions shouted through his trumpeted hands.
“Steady, boy, steady!” the old man shouted. “Wait till he turns his head, and shoot between the eyes! Not now—wait till he turns—not yet—!”
Just then the moose, frantic with pain and anger, caught sight of the boy approaching him. At this discovery the huge animal seemed to forget the dogs, and wheeling, made straight for Larry, head down, bristles standing, and bloody foam blowing from its nose and mouth.
“Shoot! Shoot! For God’s sake shoot, Larry!” the old man screamed, half rising, and then toppling back upon the rock.
But Larry needed no instructions. He had proved himself and his weapon only yesterday, and he had the courage born of experience. The first terror inspired by the huge animal had passed, and now he stood with his feet braced wide apart on his snow-shoes, the rifle at his shoulder and his eye fixed on the little bead of the front sight as the huge animal plunged toward him. Kim and Jack, realizing the impending danger to their master, buried their teeth in the moose’s flanks on either side and hung on grimly causing the animal to pause momentarily. This was Larry’s chance. There was a flash and report, and the big animal, rearing upwards and sinking on its hind legs, plunged sidelong into the snow and lay still. The heavy steel-jacketed bullet had crashed into its brain, killing it instantly.
Before the huge head fairly reached the ground both dogs were at the animal’s throat, tearing and mangling, mad with the lust of battle. Larry, reacting from the tense excitement, felt his knees sag under him as he realized the result of the shot. But even this did not make him forget to load his gun again instantly—a thing that becomes automatic with the hunter—and approach the beast cautiously, ready for another shot. But the dogs, with fangs buried in the creature’s throat, gloating in the hot blood, bore silent witness that more shots were unnecessary.
Then Larry’s pent-up emotions found expression in a wild shout as he rushed to where old Martin lay.
But his feeling changed to dread apprehension when he reached the base of the rock, saw where the blood had trickled down over the side, and found that the old man had fallen back unconscious. Perhaps his triumph had come too late after all! In an instant he had kicked off his snow-shoes, climbed the sapling that rose beside the rock, and was kneeling over the still, crumpled figure, his warm hands caressing the white cheeks, his voice choked with emotion.
His warm touch revived the hunter, who opened his eyes slowly, and then smiled faintly up at the boy.
“I’ll be all right in a minute,” the old fellow whispered; “get me off this rock and build a fire, quick. I’m frozen.”
But getting the injured hunter off the rocks without hurting him proved a difficult task. The sides were almost perpendicular, and Martin too weak to help himself at all. So, after several futile attempts, Larry was obliged to get the harnesses from the toboggan, fasten the draw strap under the hunter’s arms, and in this manner lower him over the side. Then the boy quickly gathered some sticks and made a hot fire.
During most of this time Martin remained inanimate, but he revived again when Larry had dragged him near the fire; and now he asked faintly for water. A few gulps of the melted snow water from Larry’s cup revived him perceptibly, and meanwhile the boy was chafing his cold hands, and had removed his moccasins and drawn his feet close to the fire.
Presently Martin asked feebly for food; but Larry shook his head. For once he had forgotten one of the old man’s reiterated instructions—that he should never go anywhere from camp without taking at least one ration with him. When he started out he had only expected to be gone a few hours, and in his perturbation he had forgotten to take anything to eat.
But the old hunter’s wits had not completely failed him.
“The moose,” he said faintly.
And then the boy remembered that a month’s supply of food, upon which the dogs were still feasting, was lying only a few feet away. So in a few minutes he had a huge slice of moose steak suspended on a stick over the fire, from which he cut off thin strips and fed to the ravenous hunter.
During this process he had time to observe the nature of Martin’s injury, although he was not quite sure of its exact location, as the hunter’s clothes were rent and blood-stained in many places.
“It’s my left leg,” Martin said, interpreting the boy’s anxious expression. “It’s all ripped to pieces. But it was the cold that was killing me. Now I’m getting warm and feeling stronger every minute. In another half hour I’ll be ready to take a ride home with you while the sun is high.”
By the time the steak was consumed Martin was sitting up, taking sips of hot water out of the tin cup from time to time. Every movement caused him great pain, but he strove stoically to conceal this from the boy.
“Harness up the dogs,” he said presently, “pack me into the toboggan, and let’s start for camp. We haven’t any time to lose, for it gets cold on a sled when the sun goes down.”
So Larry called the dogs, who were loth to leave their feast, packed the old man into the bag on the toboggan so that only his head showed above the flaps, and started.
Several times he had tried to get the old hunter to tell him how it had all happened; but Martin put him off, assuring him that there would be plenty of time for talking when they were back in camp again.
Once the start was made there was no chance for talking, all Larry’s energies being required to keep the now lazy dogs up to their usual speed. And now he realized the wisdom of not feeding them until their day’s work was done, as was Martin’s inflexible rule. He was kept busy steering the toboggan around rough places that would jar his passenger, as the old man’s excruciating pain was accentuated by every additional shock. Yet Martin would not consider stopping, or even slackening the pace; and as the dogs warmed to their work after the first few miles they were able to make the camp just as the sun was setting, all hands ready to drop from exhaustion.
They found Larry’s big fire still burning, and in a few minutes he had warmed up the remains of the feast he had planned for the night before. Then, when he had wrapped up the injured leg, and propped the old hunter in a comfortable position before the fire, Martin was ready to tell his story.
“Don’t you mind now, and look scared whenever I screw up my face,” the old man began; “for the pain shoots around pretty bad at times. But I’ll stand it all right, and I’ll kill many a bull moose to pay for it, too.”
Then he chuckled softly in the old familiar manner.
“What makes me laugh,” he said, “is to think that all this time I have been letting you think that I am something of a hunter, trying to show you how to kill game; and here you go out and kill the moose that came mighty near killing me. This is how it all happened:
“I came across signs of game after I had left the camp about an hour, and the signs were good too; but still I didn’t get sight of anything, and I kept going right on until well after noon. So I decided to turn about and take the back track home, feeling sure that I should have better luck on the way in. Sure enough, when I came near the place where you found me, I found where a moose had floundered along through the snow, probably scared from some yard by my scent as I passed. He was standing near the big rock and as the wind was blowing toward me, he hadn’t discovered me.
“So I worked around to get the rock between us, and then I sneaked up so as to get a close shot and make sure of him. I ought to have tried a longer shot at him, but you see the .38-40 is a pretty small cartridge for moose except at close range, and I intended to get him, sure.
“I sneaked along until I was right behind the rock, and then I stepped out and shot point blank for his head. But just at the very second I pulled the trigger the old rascal had to jerk his head about six inches to one side, so that the bullet ploughed deep into his neck, just where it would hurt and make him mad, but nothing more.
“And then all the trouble happened in about three seconds. I jerked down the lever to throw in another cartridge, for he was coming right at me. But Jumping Jee-rusalem! if the old gun didn’t jam. The head of the empty shell had broken off and stuck in the chamber! I didn’t have any time for investigating, for the bull was right on top of me, so I just jumped for the side of that rock. Nothing but a fly could have gone up it—without help; and I knew that then as well as I do now. But I hadn’t any choice. And the curious thing is that the old moose himself furnished the help.
“He was so close to me when I jumped that one of his points caught my leg and ripped it open as he went along; but at the same time he flung his head up and threw me clean up the side of the rock. So by the time he could stop and turn around I was up out of his reach. But I was his meat, all the same. All he had to do was to sit down and wait long enough and I’d freeze or starve to death.
“He had no notion of waiting, though,—that is, not at first. He planned to come right up there and finish the job. But you see he didn’t have any friend around to hook him in the leg and give him a boost as I had, so he couldn’t make it. He tried for a full hour, getting madder and madder every minute, snorting and pawing up the snow, and then coming back for another try at me. And there I had to sit and take it, with my gun lying down below in the snow.
“Pretty soon I saw that the old scoundrel had settled down for a regular siege. He gave up trying to reach me, but he never took his eyes off me, and just walked ’round and ’round that rock hoping I’d come down. I’ll bet he made that circle a thousand times in two hours.
“I thought when night came that he would start off and give it up, and several times he did go away behind a clump of trees a few rods away. But the minute I raised my head or moved a finger he was right back on the job again.
“Then I knew that my time had come. It wasn’t such a terribly cold night, you know, but I lay out there in the open with nothing over me, and I was mighty weak from the blood I’d lost. And I knew that I was slowly freezing to death. I thought of a dozen things to try, but all of them were hopeless. There was no use in sliding off and grabbing the rifle for by the time I could get the broken cartridge out the moose would have killed me several times over. If it hadn’t been for the leg I’d have come down and fought it out with the old brute with my hunting knife. I have done that before with a wounded bull. But I was so weak that I could hardly raise my body, let alone my leg. So I just settled down to freeze.
“But you see I’m a tough old rooster, and when the sun came up this morning I was still there, with my moose taking good care that I should stay there. By that time, though, I didn’t care much whether he stayed or not. It didn’t make any difference. For I couldn’t have crawled fifty yards if I’d had the chance I was so stiff and weak.
“After a while I dozed off; and the next thing I remember I heard the bull fighting with some wolves. I thought they were wolves then, but I didn’t even open my eyes to see, although I hoped they’d kill him. And then something sounded familiar about those wolves’ voices, and I turned my head. And there was old Jack and Kim trying to even up my score with the old critter.
“My God! boy, I never knew what it was to be glad about anything in my life before! There you were coming with the little gun, and there was Jack on one side and Kim on the other taking out hunks from the old moose’s side at every jump, and—”
The old man stopped, and brushed his arm across his eyes, unable to go on for a minute, while Larry sat blinking hard at the fire. But presently the hunter regained his composure a little, and continued:
“And then when you fired and shot that old devil right between the eyes, I was willing to die for sheer joy.”
The old man paused again and tried to force a little laugh.
“And to think that you had to come and kill him with the little gun, while the best that I could do was to make him mad.”
And he patted the boy’s shaggy head affectionately.
“But you see, Martin, I’ve been having more practice lately than you have,” the boy said, springing up. “Wait till I show you something.”
He darted out of the tent and came struggling back hauling the big white wolf and dropped it before the fire, and then brought the other three and laid them in a row for Martin’s inspection. His eyes were shining with pride and the old hunter’s face beamed with genuine admiration.
“Just four cartridges—one for each wolf,” Larry said proudly, “and a little tap with a club thrown in for good measure.” And then he told the old man the story of the wolves, and exhibited the rip in his coat sleeves.
Several times during the recital Larry noticed that Martin’s face twitched with the agonizing pain he was suffering, although the old man tried hard to conceal it, protesting that it was a thing too slight to be worth noticing.
“It isn’t the pain so much,” the old man said, at last. “I can stand that all right. But I could stand it just a thousand times better if I had my old pipe and one pinch of tobacco. Boy, I’d give one long year of my life if I could have five minutes’ smoke. I’d get up and fight a moose, or a grizzly, or both, right now for a dozen whiffs of the old pipe.”
With a little laugh Larry jumped up, ran to their pile of plunder, and fumbled in his ditty bag. Then he turned and held up a pipe and a plug of tobacco for Martin to see.
“Will this new pipe do?” he asked, laughing, as he handed Martin the precious articles.
The old man’s eyes were round with astonishment, and his hands trembled with eagerness. They trembled so that he could hardly pare off the shavings of the plug and load the pipe, and light it with the brand that Larry handed him from the fire. But a few whiffs steadied him.
“You see,” Larry explained, “when you told me to put something or other into my ditty bag for luck, I couldn’t think of anything that would be luckier than a pipe and some tobacco for you—just to buy you off some time when you got cranky, you know. So here’s your bribe to keep you good natured about my running off and leaving the camp when you told me not to.”
“Well, this makes twice to-day that you’ve saved my life,” the old man grinned, “so I’ll forgive you. And now pile some wood near me so that I can keep the fire going, and then you crawl into bed and get some sleep. I don’t suppose this moose leg of mine would let me sleep anyhow, but even if it did I wouldn’t waste my time doing it when there was a pipe and some tobacco around. I am almost glad now that the old beast gouged me.”