86 THE MOOSE 



out, but the mark Moosewa would carry would 

 last whilst Moosewa lived. 



Carefully the red-haired man carried the hot iron 

 from the stove across the corral, and thumped him- 

 self down on the body of the prone deer, on whose 

 head Cretney sat firmly. 



A horrible smell of singeing, burning flesh arose, 

 and in spite of unavailing struggles the cruel brand 

 bit deep. 



And Mooswa made no sound. Let it be counted 

 to his everlasting credit that he made so sound. 



Every turn and curve of the letters burnt and 

 tortured — N. R. But to the poor moose they 

 might have been the whole alphabet. 



Some rough fat was smeared over the wound to 

 keep out the cold ; and there, lying in the corner 

 just as they unroped him, the youngling lay, 

 stunned by the sudden terror and the quivering 

 sharpness of the ever-present pain. 



Evening fell. One by one the brilliant stars 

 came out. Sirius was shining, and Venus, beautiful 

 a fraud as ever, lightened the dark night until the 

 moon got up. 



The moose was asleep at last, but wakened as a 

 familiar hand put the halter tenderly about his neck. 



