At last, on a certain evening, after supper, a solemn camp-council was
held around an inspiring fire, and Herb Heal suggested that if his party
were really bent on seeing a moose again, before they turned their faces
homeward, they had better rise early the following morning, shoulder
their knapsacks, and set out to do a few days' hunting amid the dense
woods near the base of Katahdin.
"I killed the biggest bull-moose I ever saw, on Togue Ponds, in that
region," said the guide meditatively; "and I got him in a queer way. I
b'lieve I promised to tell you that yarn."
"Of course you did!"
"Let's have it!"
"Go ahead, Herb! Don't shorten it!"
Thus encouraged by the eager three, the woodsman began:--
"It is five years now, boys, since I spent a fall and winter trapping in
them woods we were speaking of--I and another fellow. We had two
home-camps, which were our headquarters, snug log shelters, one on Togue
Ponds, the other on the side of Katahdin. As sure as ever the sun went
down on a Saturday night, we two trappers met at one or other of these
home-camps; though during the week we were mostly apart.
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