318 FOUE-FOOTED AMERICANS 



creep vary near — they not see me. I aim, fire, bang! 

 Only hit one in horns becanse movin' so much. I move 

 quick to get anodere shot ; one Moose run away, one 

 vary mad — him run at me. I hit gun 'gainst tree, he 

 jumps out of hand, den I run ! Angry Moose awful I 

 Can break chest in wiz horns, can kick like horse. 1 

 get up tree, bad tree, little few branches. Moose vary 

 mad. Bang, smash! I feel branch crack, then you 

 come. Can smoke now. Good ! Both smoke pipes.' 



'' I reckon we were glad enough to git back to camp 

 with a couple o' Moose steaks we hacked off, and the 

 boys went out with horses and brought the carcass back 

 afore the Wolves scented it. I wasn't goin' to say a 

 word, but Dom'nick he told, and let the laugh on him- 

 self ! 



" ' Nez will be big hunter some day,' said he, ' he has ze 

 luck. Ze luck and good gun are great t'ing in woods.' " 



"Is that all?" said Nat, as Nez stopped. "I wish 

 there was more." 



" Want to know ! I reckon that's all 'bout the Moose, 

 but part of the story is goin' on yet. Dom'nick he took 

 a shine to me, and nine years ago when I come back 

 East from Montana, I found he'd jest died and left me 

 his traps, fixin's, and good will. Also his darter (that 

 was a bit of a gal when I went West), if she'd hev me, 

 — and she did. She's Toinette, my wife; so you see 

 that Moose story ain't ended." 



" Oh, I understand," said Dodo, after thinking a mo- 

 ment, " and she speaks a kind of French like Dominique ! 

 But what kind of language do you speak, Nez ? " 



'' Want to know ! Why, American, for sartin, jest 

 like you do ! " 



