The two Farrars were burning with excitement at
the thought of beholding the monarch of the forest at all, even in
death. For they had heard enough wood-lore to know that the bull-moose,
with his extreme caution, is like a tantalizing phantom to hunters.
Continually he lures them to disappointment by his uncouth noises, or by
a sight of his freshly made tracks, while his sensitive ears and
super-sensitive nose, which can discriminate between the smell of man
and every other smell on earth, will generally lead him off like a
wind-gust before man gets a sight of him.
"I'm sorry to keep you awake, boys," said Herb Heal, making for the
fire, after he had finished his story; "but I haven't had a bite since
morning, and I'm that hungry I could chaw my moccasins. I'll get
something to eat, and then we'll turn in. We'll have mighty hard work
to-morrow, getting the moose to camp."
Herb was not long in making ready the stereotyped camp-fare of flapjacks
and pork. To light his preparations, he took a candle out of a precious
bundle which he had brought from a town a hundred miles distant, and
set it in a primitive candlestick.
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