They all sat down to eat, but every few 
minutes one or other went to the rock 
and watched. It was the youngster who 
called them to look. 
HE Moose had turned facing shore- 
ward, and with head raised high 
and ears forward gazed into the brush- 
wood from which evidently she had just 
come. 
“Just what I thought,” said McNeil 
quietly. “We'll take a look at her to- 
morrow. We’ll mark the spot by that 
splintered tree. It will take us about 
three hours to get around behind that 
hill. We’ll take the horses and leave 
them in the valley at the back. You 
lads go over the northern shoulder. I'll 
take the dogs and come over the south- 
side. When she finds she’s cornered 
she’ll likely take to the lake. When she 
takes the water if you ever moved 
quickly in your lives, do it then. Get 
out on the lake shore and head off the 
calves. If they aren’t more than a few 
days old we’ll likely get them before 
they can make it. But if they’re old 
enough and strong enough to get to the 
water before us, we’re out of luck. 
“The cow may show fight at first, but 
not likely; and then it will be because 
of the dogs. Take a rifle, but don’t use 
it unless it’s absolutely necessary; and 
understand, I don’t want her killed. It’s 
bad enough to take the babies, without 
hurting the mother.” 
Accordingly next morning, after a 
long detour to the westward they tied 
the horses. The boys took the northern 
slope and McNeil with his dogs held 
firmly by their 
thongs, climbed 
around its south- 
ern brow, keeping 
the splintered tree 
on his left. 
Thus MeNeil’s 
net drew silently 
about the mother 
and her three-day 
old babies. Confi- 
dent in her secur- 
ity she idly chewed 
her cud and 
watched them 
while they dozed. 
A fresh breeze 
from the northeast 
brought over the 
lake no taint of 
danger, but as it 
passed on over the 
hill behind her, 
brought to old 
Sport’s keen nose 
the heavy musk of 
the moose smell. 
With a bound he 
snatched the thong 
away and with 
sharp yelps plunged downward toward 
the lake. 
Up from the brushwood came an 
angry snort. McNeil freed Pompey and 
dashed down the hill, only to find him- 
self in a tangle of dense underbrush 
and heavy slash. He climbed on top of 
a long bole lying horizontally, ran 
along it, jumping from that to the 
next, like a river driver on a log jam. 
He was almost across, when his foot- 
hold slipped and down he crashed. His 
rifle flew out of his hand. There was 
an angry snort, a mad tearing rush in 
his direction, a howl from a dog, and 
he felt his end has come. But the last 
barrier of slash had stopped the mad 
rush. Back the cow dashed in the op- 
posite direction. The boys were crash- 
ing through the slash on that side. With 
danger on all sides she rushed towards 
the lake. Forty feet she went, then 
dashed madly back. Frantically she 
tried to rouse her babies. She pushed 
them about with her nose, called them 
by every sign and sound of moose 
language, to follow her. She got them 
to their feet, but the long wobbly legs 
were still too weak to walk, and with 
large wondering eyes they gazed at the 
strange intruders. 
CNEIL, now almost sure of his 
prize, worked closer to a vantage 
point beside a stump. With eyeballs 
like burning coals, ears back and mane 
erect, she charged at him. He dodged 
behind his stump and could have 
touched her as she rushed past. Turn- 
ing, she dashed back—this time at Pom- 

“Her baby coat of soft brown furry hair began to change 
to glossy black” 
pey, who, taken unaware, howled and 
ran. Her sharp hooves were on him. 
His end was near. Sport, with a flying 
leap, bounded at her head and in the 
mad frenzy of her terror she brushed 
him aside and plunged into the lake. 
PORT followed, snapping and bark- 
ing, and, side by side, they swam 
far out. He snapped her ear, and with 
a toss of her head she plunged him 
under, but up he came again. 
Everyone was making for the lake. 
“Look out on the shore,” called McNeil; 
and the boys, reaching the shore, ran 
down to where the mother had taken 
the water. Here one tiny chap, a young 
bull, toddled out almost into our arms. 
He suddenly made a bold attempt to 
get away, but was soon caught; a coat 
was put over his head, and he was 
laid in the shade. Both lads were en- 
grossed in their new capture, when 
McNeil called, “Look out, there’s the 
other one. Catch it! Quick! Quick!” 
They looked up to see the tiniest doe 
ealf, with ears sticking upwards like 
a mule’s, making with the most marvel- 
lous speed for the lake. Too late! No 
human could cover the distance in time! 
But Pompey, tearing through the 
bushes, bounded into the open, and 
sprang upon it. It struggled, but the 
old dog held firmly, and when McNeil 
came up and took the wee calf in his 
arms, old Pompey’s hold had been so 
gentle that there was not a tooth mark 
upon its tender skin. “Good old Pom- 
pey,” cried McNeil, “Grand old dog,” 
and Pompey proud to have retrieved 
himself, gamboled 
about the prize, 
leaped on McNeil 
and licked his face, 
till suddenly, as if 
he had forgotten 
something, he 
squatted on _ his 
haunches, raised 
his muzzle high in 
the air, and gave 
the long wierd howl 
which told that the 
prize had _ been 
won. Sport heard 
it, and, wearied 
with his fruitless 
chase, turned back 
toward the western 
shore. 
The two calves 
were quite uncon- 
cerned about their 
capture. With en- 
quiring sniffs they 
began to make ac- 
quaintance with 
the dogs, and in a 
few minutes were 
135 
