FOREST AND STREAM. 
[March 30, 1907. 
49O 
r 
He wheeled and struck at her viciously, but she 
evaded the blow; and in a second’s time Rollo 
had him by the muzzle, the jaw-tnuscles drove 
the teeth "through soft hide, and softer flesh. 
The mastiff's whole being seemed concentrated 
in the one idea of holding on. His fore paws 
hung limp and apparently paralyzed, his eyes 
were closed, his body swung pendulously from 
side to side, as the tortured moose made effort 
after effort to shake him off. 
L’Orignal was in evil plight. With a 100- 
pound mastiff attached to his muzzle and three 
collies snapping and tearing at his flanks and 
heels, his chance of escape seemed small. 
Minute after minute the fight went on. The 
great moose grew weaker and weaker. Ihe 
mastiff held on with the tenacity of a leech. 
Then came the crack of a rifle. L’Orignal heard 
it above the yelping of the dogs, and smelt the 
man-scent through his mutilated nostrils. An¬ 
other crack, a howl from one of the dogs, the 
most cowardly one, and the dog rolled over in 
the snow. Then the moose remembered how, 
years ago, he had shaken off an English bull¬ 
dog. Once, twice, thrice he swung his head 
round, with all his force, and dashed the dog 
against the rocks. The mastiff’s jaws relaxed, 
he dropped to the ground and L’Orignal 
wheeled and faced his new enemies. There were 
two of them. They were not fifty yards away. 
The collies were tearing at his heels and flanks, 
but he ignored them and prepared for one last 
charge against his two-legged foes. As he 
started one of the dogs ran ahead and a little 
to one side of him. A spurt of fire, but no 
smoke, from one of the rifles, and the dog 
turned a sommersault and lay kicking in the 
snow. Yet another report, and the little bitch 
uttered a yell of pain and ran for her life. 
L’Orignal lowered his head, and paused for a 
moment. Then he made a rush for his new 
enemies, who were reloading their magazines. 
“Don’t fire until I give the word, Jim,” said 
one of them. “I don’t think there’s any danger, 
but if I’m wrong, let him have it when I say 
the word.” 
There was no danger. The drift the men 
stood on was ten feet deep. The crust was 
very thick, and before the moose had gone ten 
yards he was utterly helpless. For a couple of 
minutes he lay in the drift, the blood streaming 
from his lacerated muzzle, then he wheeled in 
his tracks and shambled across the barrens. Not 
a shot was fired after him. One of the men 
drew a deep breath, and remarked. “Good God, 
what a head. Sixty-five inches if it’s a foot, 
and the season only closed yesterday. I wish 
to heavens I’d seen him two days ago.” 
The second man glanced at the mastiff’s body. 
“Old Squire Mitchell’s dog Rollo. Squire 
thought the world of him, and Mrs. Mitchell 
and the kids will be half crazy when they hear 
lie’s dead. Say, he’d a grand voice. If it hadn't 
have been for him we’d never have bothered 
coming down this way when we heard those 
shots.” 
Then the pair took the* back trail, and a mile 
back they ran into the two Woodworths and 
Mr. Thibideau. The halfbreed was cool and 
collected. A long chase after a moose was part 
of the day’s work to him. The other two men 
were blown. Bill Woodworth's age and his 
son’s bad condition rendered moose hunting 
with dogs a somewhat strenuous pastime for 
them. 
“No use to run, Louis. We can swear to 
you. Better take your medicine like a man. 
We’ve got papers against you, too. Bill Wood- 
worth, and—I think this is Harper? There's a 
warrant for your arrest as well.” 
“I’m an American citizen. You have no 
right to arrest me. Just try it on, and see 
what happens,” replied Harper. . 
“Whitewashed Yankee, you mean. There are 
plenty of genuine Americans who’d lick the 
stuffing out of you for doing this dirty work, 
and then claiming to go clear on that score. 
Now it’s coming on to snow, and we’d better 
make for McGinty’s before it gets any later. 
We may as well be civil to one another, as we've 
got to put in the night together.” 
“But about the dogs,” interrupted Bill Wood- 
worth. 
“The moose threw one of them half a gun¬ 
shot away and tore the whole side out of him. 
He pounded another one to pieces and slatted 
the life out of poor old Rollo against a big 
granite rock. Those shots you heard did for 
the others. I guess Mitchell will have some¬ 
thing to say about that matter. He was power¬ 
ful fond of the old dog.” 
The little bitch ran for her life for a mile or 
so; then she rested among some stunted spruce 
brushes. Her wound was very slight, the bleed¬ 
ing had ceased, and she did not suffer much. 
For an hour or more she crouched shivering 
under the spruces, then the snow commenced 
to fall, the wind rose, and she realized that she 
was miles from home and supper. She rose, 
shook the snow off her coat and followed her 
own tracks back to the rock-pile, cowering in 
the drifts every now and then when some stump 
seemed to her like a man with a gun. Neither 
men nor moose were to be seen. She nosed the 
dogs’ bodies over, one after another; they were 
frozen stiff already. Last of all she came to 
Rollo. Like the other dogs he was covered with 
snow, but a little airhole at his muzzle showed 
that he was still breathing. She scratched a bed 
jn the snow and lay beside him, licking his nos 
and her own wound alternately. 
“I guess the best thing we can do is to stol 
in this shanty until the blizzard’s over,” rtj 
marked the game warden as the party prepare! 
to turn in for the night. “We have plenty (I 
grub, there’s lots of wood, and I’d rather pil 
the time in here than take the ten-mile walk il 
this storm.” 
It was between four and five in the morning 
when one of the wardens got up to mend til 
fire. He threw the stove door open, put if 
some more wood and was about to turn inti 
his bunk again, when he heard a scratching ;| 
the door. Then he heard a low whine. Ill 
roused his mate. “Jim, there’s a dog at til 
door. It most likely belongs to this outfil 
Shall we let it in, or shoot it?” 
They opened the door, and the rush of coll 
air and snow roused Bill Woodworth. Thi 
little collie bitch sat outside, woefully done ouj 
anxious for warmth and shelter, and yet ml 
willing to cofne in. Woodworth called an] 
whistled to her, but she only wagged her tail 
and ran back a few steps. “There’s somethin 
wrong outside. Give me the lantern and I'j 
go see,” said Woodworth; “she acted that wa] 
last fall when my best cow got mired in a bod 
hole. She’s the best little cattle dog betwet| 
Halifax and Yarmouth.” 
Woodworth and one of the game wardens pi] 
their snowshoes on and followed Cora. SI 
led them about a quarter of a mile, then sl 
stopped at a brown heap lying in the wor 
road. It was Rollo, utterly done out but st 
alive. They went back to camp, took a tobos 
gan and hauled the old dog in. 
“No, I ain’t going to shoot that dog. 
wouldn’t have shot him when he was on tl 
moose if I could have got him off any oth| 
way,” said the warden. “I was sure the o 
fellow was done for when the moose slatti] 
him against that big rock. He’ll never be ab 
to walk out.. We’ll have to draw him out j 
the main road on a toboggan.” 
Three or four days later the Woodwortl 
paid one hundred dollars each to atone for the] 
little escapade. Mr. Thibideau partook of Hi 
Majesty’s hospitality in the common jail 
Annapolis county for the space of three mont 
in lieu of a fine, and Rollo was sent to a vgtej 
inary surgeon at Halifax. He returned coif 
pletely cured. Cora retains her reputation 
a cattle dog, but she is gun-shy, and will i\ 
ways remain so, I fear. L'Orignal is also alivt 
at least, he was some two months ago. I 
has been seen a score of times and fired at mo] 
than once since he was dogged out of t 
swamp near Cloud Lake. 
New Publications. 
“On the Great American Plateau” is a volur 
written by T. Mitchell Prudden on that gre 
region which covers a large portion of Arizor] 
the western half of New Mexico, and the sout 
ern borders of Colorado and Utah. Travelii 
up and down the Great Plateau for many siuj 
mers, passing into little known places, explc 
ing the ruins of the cliff and cave dwelle 
and acquiring the lore of the people who ncl 
live there, Mr. Prudden has written eloquent 
of a region so vast, so full of interest to 11 
sportsman tourist that words often fail to a 
equately describe a country that fascinates a 
wholly satisfies the man who is not afraid 
toil and can endure with equanimity such hail 
ships as the sun, the sand and the scarcity [ 
water visit on those who go into the intern. 
While a great deal of the text is devoted • 
descriptions of the ruins of the cliff and cad 
dwellers, and is well worth studying because M 
Prudden’s conclusions are drawn from exp< 
ience and common sense reasoning relative 
this prehistoric race, he also explains how t 
visitor can best see the region, and points c 
the nearest railway stations where horses a 
pack animals can be obtained for day or we 
trips to certain points of interest. The bo 
is profusely illustrated from photographs a 
drawings and comes to us from G. P. Putnar 
Sons, New York. 
