THE ODYSSEY OF OLD BILL 87 
into a corner of the old fence, where Bill was 
forced to turn and fight. He was alone, but 
found himself already equal to the emergency. 
He finished off that dog in two tosses and a 
stamp, but tossed him a couple more times just 
for the fun of it, because it felt so good. As a 
rule, his temper was of the best, but nobody likes 
a dog that chases you. In spring, too, another 
little moose was added to the herd, making their 
number four again, and Bill’s mother quite for- 
sook him, for the care of her new offspring. So 
then, at last, Bill cut away entirely from the 
maternal apron strings, as it were, and went 
wandering off with the old bull, quite a little man 
now, and left the females (the new arrival was a 
female) to themselves. 
Having been quite unmolested all winter again, 
the fear had left them, and once more now they 
wandered out of the old reservation, where that 
winter they had pretty well used up the tenderest 
feed, over a fence falling still more into decay, 
and into the free woods and wilder uplands. 
They met men, but nobody fired at them. They 
crossed roads and even browsed into rye and oat 
