128 DESPERATE BATTLE. 



the heaviest head of horns I had ever looked on, 

 trotted into the open, not over forty yards off from 

 me. The silver head on my rifle-barrel was almost 

 plump on his shoulder, when, with a crash that made 

 the saplings splinter, the second male rushed on to 

 the ground. The first was tall, but ragged-looking 

 an old rake, who devoted more time to courting 

 and love-making than was good for his health. The 

 second, though scarce as high, was far more chunky, 

 and would have weighed a good hundredweight over 

 the other, or I am no judge of size, particularly 

 of moose. The two rivals approached each other 

 for they both thought it was a cow of their own race 

 they were going to meet stopped, stared, and with 

 a grunt of defiance rushed together. 



'Hard and fast the battle raged, first on their feet, 

 then on their knees, the two combatants struggling 

 with an all-powerful and vindictive hate. Around 

 them the brush and saplings were trodden down, and 

 the vegetation scattered around. Their determina- 

 tion, their courage, and their endurance of punishment 

 were so great, that the most apathetic could scarce 

 have surveyed the scene without becoming spell- 

 bound. At length their tongues hung from their 

 mouths, their flanks heaved from excessive exertion, 

 and their dark brown coats were disfigured with mire. 

 A halt, as if a respite for obtaining breath or renewed 

 strength, took place, and as the heavier of the two 

 bulls was towards me, the opportunity was not to be 

 lost ; so I pitched my rifle to my shoulder, and, with 



