"On the following day, on snowshoes, the two men explored the 'yard,'
tramping along beside the deep-trodden trails. Soon they came upon the
herd, and marked the lofty antlers of the bull towering over a bunch of
low fir bushes. The farmer raised his heavy rifle. It was an easy
shot. He fired, and the antlered head went down.
"At the sound of the shot and the fall of their trusted leader, the
herd scattered in panic, breasting down the walls of their paths and
floundering off through the deep snow. The two men stared after them
with interest, but made no motion for another shot, for it was against
the New Brunswick law to kill a cow moose, and if the farmer had
indulged himself in such a luxury it would have cost him a hundred
pounds by way of a fine.
"Among the fleeing herd appeared a little fawn-colored beast, utterly
unlike any moose calf that the farmer or his man had ever heard of. It
was tremendously nimble at first, bouncing along at such a rate that it
was impossible to get a really good look at it. But its legs were much
too short for such a depth of snow, and before it had gone fifty yards
it was quite used up. It stopped, floundered on another couple of
yards, and then lay down quite helplessly.
Pages:
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190