352 A BOOK-LOVER'S HOLIDAYS 



For over an hour he thus kept us from the 

 shore, running to meet us wherever we tried 

 to go. The afternoon was waning, a cold 

 wind began to blow, shifting as it blew. He 

 was not a pleasant-looking beast to meet in 

 the woods in the dusk. We were at our wits' 

 ends what to do. At last he turned, shook his 

 head, and with a flourish of his heels galloped 

 — not trotted — for fifty yards up beside the 

 little river which paralleled the portage trail. 

 I called Arthur's attention to this, as he had 

 been telling me that a big bull never galloped. 

 Then the moose disappeared at a trot round 

 the bend. We waited a few minutes, cautiously 

 landed, and started along the trail, watching 

 to see if the bull was lying in wait for us; Ar- 

 thur telling me that if he now attacked us I 

 must shoot him at once or he would kill some- 

 body. 



A couple of hundred yards on the trail led 

 within a few yards of the little river. As we 

 reached this point a smashing in the brush be- 

 yond the opposite bank caused us to wheel; 

 and the great bull came headlong for us, while 

 Arthur called to me to shoot. With a last hope 

 of frightening him I fired over his head, with- 

 out the slightest effect. At a slashing trot he 

 crossed the river, shaking his head, his ears 



