THE ODYSSEY OF OLD BILL G7 
Poor little Bill uttered a protesting bellow, or 
rather two bellows, like two raps with an ax on a 
hollow tree. He couldn’t make that jump. He 
just knew he couldn’t. He ran up and down be- 
hind the half-fallen fence, looking for a lower 
place, and seeing his father, the other cow, even 
his mother, vanishing into the woods outside. 
Yes, even his mother, she felt so sure he would 
follow! But he couldnt follow! If Bill had 
been a boy, he would certainly have burst into 
sobs. But he wasn’t. He was a young bull 
moose, and behind him, on the wind, he suddenly 
caught fresh and strong that man scent his 
mother had taught him to be wary of. It was 
coming nearer. Over there, his mother was going 
farther away. Little Bill drew back, made a 
mighty dash and a spring with all the power of 
his gawky, stiff, long legs, and though his hind 
heels hit the wire and half spilled him, he stag- 
gered up to find, to his surprise, that he was over 
the fence! Then he kicked up those same hind 
hoofs with a prance of joy and pride in his 
achievement, and dashed madly off on the trail of 
his parents. 
