THE ODYSSEY OF OLD BILL 97 
abitofalarm. It was a trifle thick, even for him. 
He tossed his antlers, and made a stamp or two 
on the precious turf. The sexton rushed into the 
church for the telephone, 
Snyder was at his home, in the next town. 
The sexton got him, his voice trembling with ex- 
citement. ‘The moose was rampaging. The chil- 
dren were in danger. Couldn’t he, the sexton, 
shoot him? This was a bit too much, really—and 
pawing up his lawn, too. Besides, he might dash 
right into the crowd any minute and 
“ Look here,” came the voice of Snyder, “ you 
tell the crowd to go home, if they’re afraid. If 
anything happens to that moose, I'll have you 
arrested. Go out and chuck a stone at him. 
Remember now—the fine’s two hundred and fifty 
dollars!” 
The sexton went back—as far as the church 
door. Finally he edged down on the drive, 
picked up a stone, and threw it. 
“ Go ’way,” he said. 
Old Bill made a break for the October Moun- 
tain road. He had a brief glimpse of several 
posteriors disappearing over fences on either side, 
