by Quincy Allen
CHAPTER XIX
THE HOUR OF TRIUMPH
Bluff looked, and then winked his eyes several times, as though hefeared they might be deceiving him. Still that great reddish brownbulk was there. He could now even see the massive horns that rearedupward above the animal's head.
No wonder Will had admitted he was staggered by the size of the bullmoose! There never could have been such a big animal, Bluff was readyto believe, in all the history of game shot in Maine.
He did not say a single word, though Jerry could hear a sharp hissescape from Bluff's lips.
That strong wind blowing directly in their faces, and from the moose,was greatly in their favor. So far as Bluff could understand, theanimal either had not detected their presence, or was disdainful ofthe fact. He seemed to be doing something, for they could see his headuplifted, as though some low-hanging branch may have been the objectof his attention, and he was engaged in stripping it of its stillclinging leaves.
Now it happened that in the earlier stages of the woods chase Bluffand Jerry deliberately laid their plans looking to some such happyending as had now come to pass.
Bluff was to take aim first, but not to fire until he knew his sidepartner was prepared to shoot also. In order that equal shares of thegreat honor that would attach to the killing of the giant moose shouldfall upon their heads, it was agreed to fire at the same second.
Jerry saw his chum slowly lifting his gun. He knew that Bluff wishedto avoid making any quick movement, as that was likely to catch theattention of the beast, and cause him to start a speedy flight.
So Jerry copied the example. He, too, intended getting the stock ofhis rifle firmly planted against his shoulder, so that he could take aquick but accurate aim. Then when Bluff gave the signal--which was tobe a low whistle--it was up to both boys to press their triggers.
They would never forget the sensations they experienced during thatfew seconds while bringing their guns to a level. It seemed ages toJerry. He even began to believe he must be seized with some species ofnightmare, and that a stupor prevented him from moving.
He was sure that the moose had glimpsed them. Indeed, it seemed toJerry that the massive muzzle of the animal was pointed directlytoward them, as though he might be waiting to observe another slightmove before springing away.
Why did not Bluff give that little whistle? Everything was set, andready for the finishing stroke. Jerry began to wonder whether it mightnot be that Bluff was trembling so much with excitement that he hadactually lost the power to pucker up his lips.
Then it came.
The crash that followed sounded like the discharge of one gun, bothreports blending into a single roar.
Enthusiasm seized both young sportsmen when they saw their victimfloundering on the snow-covered ground.
"Hurrah!" fairly shrieked Jerry, throwing all his enthusiasm into thatsingle word.
Bluff was meanwhile making his gun ready for further business. If thismoose was as tough as people said, and rivaled the silver-tip bear ofthe Rockies in clinging to life after receiving a multitude of wounds,he meant to be ready to give him another shot.
"Throw out the old shell--quick, he's getting up again!" Bluff hissed.
This time he sank on one knee, and secured a rest for his left elbowon the leg that was extended. He believed that he could give a betteraccount of himself when in that position. Now if the old bull mooseinsisted on struggling to his feet again, he must be reached in avital part.
There was no need of wasting any more ammunition, although the boys,not being experienced in this line of hunting, did not know itpositively.
"Oh, Bluff, he's gone crashing down again!" gasped Jerry.
"Yes, and this time, I guess, it's for keeps," added the other, thoughhardly able to realize that, after all, they had accomplished thegreat feat, visions of which had tempted them to follow the snow trailall these weary miles.
Together they started on a mad run toward the spot, eager to feasttheir eyes on the sight of that magnificent specimen lying there.
"Careful, Jerry; he may be playing 'possum with us!" warned Bluff, whohad been fed of late on so many remarkable stories concerning amoose's tenacity in holding on to life that he was ready to believealmost anything of this king of the Big Woods.
"Aw, he's as dead as a doornail!" Jerry told him; and in proof of hisassertion he strode up to the bulky carcass to push it with the toe ofhis shoe.
There was no movement, and after that no one could believe that anatom of life remained in the body of the bull moose.
"Shake on that, Jerry," said Bluff, as they stood over the body oftheir victim; "I want to congratulate you on the nervy way you didyour part. Both bullets found their mark, you can see. I reckon eitherone would have wound him up; so it's a fair divide."
"Yes," the other ventured, "either one of us can say we killed him.Isn't he a monster, though! Look at the horns, Bluff; would you everdream a moose could grow such busters in a single season?"
"I hope they haven't been injured by the fall," remarked Bluff,bending down the better to examine the dead animal's head adornments.
The horns of a full-grown moose differ radically from the antlers of abuck deer, being thick and massive rather than delicate and pronged.The cow moose does not sport any adornments on her head, and looksvery much like a mule. But there is no species of deer in the Americanforests that can come anywhere near the moose in size and power, theelk possibly approaching closer than any other animal.
Neither of the boys gave the slightest heed to the fact that it wascommencing to snow again and for about the sixth time since theystarted out.
"This is what they always say is the proudest moment in our lives,Bluff!" Jerry was remarking, seemingly content to stand there leaningon his gun and staring down at the biggest wild animal either of themhad ever taken a hand in bringing down, if the grizzly bear, of whichthey were recently talking, might be excepted.
"I wish Will and his camera were here to get a picture of our firstmoose, the biggest one that will be brought down in the whole State ofMaine this season, like as not." And Bluff looked sad to think theymight not have something to show as evidence when they wanted to backup the story they would tell about their moose hunt.
"What are we going to do with him, now we've got him?" asked Jerry,scratching his head.
"All anybody cares for in an old moose like this," Bluff told him, "isthe horns. You couldn't get your teeth into his flesh, no matter ifyou filed 'em to a point. Of course, the Indians keep the skin to makemoccasins and shoes out of."
"Yes, I knew that, because I've had a pair of moccasins made ofelkskin. When it's tanned right, it makes a tough article forfootwear. But suppose we did take the hide and horns, how in thedickens would we ever get them to camp?"
"If we could make some sort of sledge now," Bluff went on to sayreflectively, "with our hatchet, no matter how clumsy it was, we couldmanage to draw home what we wanted."
"If we left anything behind that was worthwhile, we'd have to hang itup high, I should think, Bluff. You remember that we heard a wolfhowling one night, even if we haven't come across any of them since."
Bluff was trying to figure out what their program should be. Whilethey had made all possible arrangements as to how to track the beastand the method of firing by volley so as to better encompass his fall,the boys had not dared go beyond that point.
Jerry was afraid it would be too much like counting their chickensbefore they were hatched, and on his part Bluff felt perfectly willingto let that part of the future take care of itself.
"I think that would be a good plan to follow, Jerry, and you deservegreat credit for thinking of it," he remarked presently, which ofcourse caused the other chum to feel more or less satisfaction.
"Who'll do the cutting up; and who wants to make the sledge?" askedBluff, after a little time had elapsed and they felt that somethingshould be gotten under way looking to a move; for faster now was thesnow falling, and it might be that the storm was
about to break overtheir heads.
"I think you're more experienced about carving and taking pelts offthan I am," Jerry expostulated. "To tell you the honest truth, I neverremoved a hide in all my life, though I've had sections of my ownknocked off by a rattan at school many a time."
Possibly Bluff had more than half expected that the decision wouldresult that way. To tell the truth, he was not much bothered, for herather liked the task of taking the moose's tough hide off andsevering his head so that it might be transported the easier to theirfar-distant lodge.
"Then that means, Jerry, you'll start in making a sledge; not a fancyone, but just serviceable enough to carry what we want over the snow,no matter how deep it gets."
The last part of what Bluff said was no doubt inspired by the factthat the snow was now falling heavily. There could hardly be anyquestion but that the long-anticipated storm had now arrived, andseemed anxious to make up for lost time.
"I think I can manage, if only there happens to be some decent woodhandy to make the runners out of," Jerry told his comrade, withconviction in his manner.
"How would these young second-growth ash slips do?" asked the other."You can split one down, and then bend it better. But I'm going toleave all that to you, Jerry. Do your best with your little hatchet.Remember, George Washington came by a lot of fame through his."
Jerry turned to hurry over to the thicket of ash sprouts that hadstarted up a year or so before, where a large tree had been cut down.He did not make three steps in that direction before he came to asudden halt.
Bluff, who had drawn his hunting knife and with grim resolution wasstooping over the moose, heard him give a low cry.
"Bluff! Look what's bearing down on us!" Jerry said weakly, as thoughsome fresh disaster were looming above the horizon.
It did not take Bluff long to discover what kind of trouble it was bywhich they were about to be faced. Moving figures could be seen. Theywere heading directly toward where the dead moose lay, as though thesound of their double shot had carried through the woods and drawnthese others to the spot.
Although indistinctly seen, on account of the gathering gloom and thecurtain of falling snow-flakes that swept past on the fierce wind,there was no mistaking the tall figure of Bill Nackerson and the moresturdy ones of his two companion sportsmen.
A sense of coming trouble immediately weighed on the minds of Bluffand Jerry, as they awaited the coming of the men.
