CHAPTER XXVIII. THE BATTLE OF THE MONARCHS.... 250
HE boys understood at once their danger. Happily for them, however, the situation was quickly changed by a short, hoarse, rasping roar from the larger moose. This cry, which made the young hunters tremble, brought from the other animal an answer even more terrific, leaving no doubt of his acceptance of the challenge.
What followed baffles detailed description. Renewed splashing came from the edge of the pond. The big, staring eyes of the second moose glowered with rage and jealousy, his teeth champed together with a harsh, grating sound, his hair stood erect, while he lowered his horns so the points of his mighty head stood out in front like the lance of a doughty knight of old. Then his ponderous form shot through the bushes, immediately following which the breathless listeners heard another splash of water, another grunt of defiance, a clash, like the ringing of many swords, and the battle of the monarchs was begun.
The scene that succeeded was one never to be forgotten by the witnesses. It was evidently from the start a combat to the death, and its whole aspect was appalling. The clashing of their huge antlers could have been heard for miles on that clear, still, frosty night. Reeling back from the first shock, the furious antagonists rallied with redoubled vigour, swaying from side to side, twisting their ponderous necks, each striving with limb and body, head and antlers, to overpower his rival.
Such a struggle could not last long. Soon the smaller moose was pushed back toward the shore of the pond, whose water was churned into foam by the combatants. It was already evident that the other was to be the victor. Then, above the clashing of the terrible horns, sounded a bellow of pain. The huge antlers of one of the opposing monarchs was now crimsoned with blood. The next moment, with another roar of rage and suffering, the other staggered sidewise, and then was hurled to the ground with a shock which made the earth tremble for rods away.
With a grunt of triumph the victorious brute, shaking aloft his cruel, recking horns, looked around, as if expecting another enemy ready for him. Save for his heavy breathing, not a sound broke the stillness of the scene. As far as the little group of spectators could see, the fallen monarch lay perfectly still.
The victor stood under the edge of the forest overhanging the pond, where the bars of moonlight showed his gigantic form plainly to the concealed hunters.
" He scents us!" whispered the Woodranger. " He'll find us in a jiffy, onless he takes it into his head to go away, which it ain't at all likely he will do in his ugly mood. No, he won't run off now, and we don't want him to if he would. Stand firm, lads, and when I give the word fire. Don't waste your powder."
The big animal had begun to roll its heavy head, and show signs of greater uneasiness.
" It's too far to resk a shot," muttered the Woodranger, but not loud enough to be heard any distance. " The time to take him will be when he crosses that bar o' moonlight yonder. Norman, hold your shot. 'Twon't be best for all to fire at first, as one can ne'er tell what a bullet is going to do with a moose. Be ready for the signal, Rob, and kiver that dark spot behind the fore leg. Johnny and Billy follow. Now for an amazement! "
As he finished speaking in his low tone, the forester drew the barrel of his rifle across one of the small hemlocks, making a noise like the scraping of a moose's horn against a tree.
He had no sooner done this than the moose, evidently believing it to be the movement of another rival, gave a deep grunt, and started noiselessly toward the little group in the thicket. Knowing that the critical moment was at hand, the boys clutched their weapons with firmer holds, and the three who were to fire at the Woodranger's signal raised themselves, as silently as possible, on one knee, and held their rifles in readiness for the word.
"When his shoulder comes under the moonlight," whispered the Woodranger. But, as if knowing by some strange intuition that it was the danger-line, the moose paused in the shadows of the deep forest before reaching the little opening. For three or four minutes he stood there peering into the space around him, listening for some sound to guide him.
At last, as if intending to circle the dangerous ground, as is the habit of the creature, before charging an unknown enemy, the moose began to move off into the deeper woods. The boys felt their muscles relax, though big lumps had come into their throats and they could hear each other breathe. It was a disappointment to see the big fellow go away without trying to get him.
The Woodranger was evidently as anxious as they, and he had no intention of losing the opportunity of capturing the monster, or to risk a more unfavourable situation. Again he scraped his rifle barrel across the hemlock, and then he gave expression to a grunt, imitating the moose so perfectly and sounding so near that the four boys gave starts of terror in spite of their schooling. But this was forgotten in the exciting scenes quickly following.
The moose stopped abruptly in his silent advance, turned sharply and, regardless of the consequence, bounded forward with all of his former rage.
Ever on the alert, Rob Rogers was ready for the monster, and as his huge form dashed into the opening his rifle rang out on the night air. A moment later the weapons of the Stark boys pealed forth simultaneously. But the moon makes an uncertain light for the best marksman, and if the boys hit the desperate animal, their shots did not in the least check his advance. With more fury than ever he charged on the little party in the hemlocks.
Norman, feeling that it was time for him to act, had raised his rifle to take aim at the next favourable opportunity, when he felt a thrill of horror at the sound of another moose at his elbow.
The Woodranger had already heard the cautious movements of the moose in the rear, and its low, harsh grunt had barely fallen on Norman's ears before the forester exclaimed :
" Look to the other, lad ! I'll care for the creatur' in front."
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HE boys understood at once their danger. Happily for them, however, the situation was quickly changed by a short, hoarse, rasping roar from the larger moose. This cry, which made the young hunters tremble, brought from the other animal an answer even more terrific, leaving no doubt of his acceptance of the challenge.
What followed baffles detailed description. Renewed splashing came from the edge of the pond. The big, staring eyes of the second moose glowered with rage and jealousy, his teeth champed together with a harsh, grating sound, his hair stood erect, while he lowered his horns so the points of his mighty head stood out in front like the lance of a doughty knight of old. Then his ponderous form shot through the bushes, immediately following which the breathless listeners heard another splash of water, another grunt of defiance, a clash, like the ringing of many swords, and the battle of the monarchs was begun.
The scene that succeeded was one never to be forgotten by the witnesses. It was evidently from the start a combat to the death, and its whole aspect was appalling. The clashing of their huge antlers could have been heard for miles on that clear, still, frosty night. Reeling back from the first shock, the furious antagonists rallied with redoubled vigour, swaying from side to side, twisting their ponderous necks, each striving with limb and body, head and antlers, to overpower his rival.
Such a struggle could not last long. Soon the smaller moose was pushed back toward the shore of the pond, whose water was churned into foam by the combatants. It was already evident that the other was to be the victor. Then, above the clashing of the terrible horns, sounded a bellow of pain. The huge antlers of one of the opposing monarchs was now crimsoned with blood. The next moment, with another roar of rage and suffering, the other staggered sidewise, and then was hurled to the ground with a shock which made the earth tremble for rods away.
With a grunt of triumph the victorious brute, shaking aloft his cruel, recking horns, looked around, as if expecting another enemy ready for him. Save for his heavy breathing, not a sound broke the stillness of the scene. As far as the little group of spectators could see, the fallen monarch lay perfectly still.
The victor stood under the edge of the forest overhanging the pond, where the bars of moonlight showed his gigantic form plainly to the concealed hunters.
" He scents us!" whispered the Woodranger. " He'll find us in a jiffy, onless he takes it into his head to go away, which it ain't at all likely he will do in his ugly mood. No, he won't run off now, and we don't want him to if he would. Stand firm, lads, and when I give the word fire. Don't waste your powder."
The big animal had begun to roll its heavy head, and show signs of greater uneasiness.
" It's too far to resk a shot," muttered the Woodranger, but not loud enough to be heard any distance. " The time to take him will be when he crosses that bar o' moonlight yonder. Norman, hold your shot. 'Twon't be best for all to fire at first, as one can ne'er tell what a bullet is going to do with a moose. Be ready for the signal, Rob, and kiver that dark spot behind the fore leg. Johnny and Billy follow. Now for an amazement! "
As he finished speaking in his low tone, the forester drew the barrel of his rifle across one of the small hemlocks, making a noise like the scraping of a moose's horn against a tree.
He had no sooner done this than the moose, evidently believing it to be the movement of another rival, gave a deep grunt, and started noiselessly toward the little group in the thicket. Knowing that the critical moment was at hand, the boys clutched their weapons with firmer holds, and the three who were to fire at the Woodranger's signal raised themselves, as silently as possible, on one knee, and held their rifles in readiness for the word.
"When his shoulder comes under the moonlight," whispered the Woodranger. But, as if knowing by some strange intuition that it was the danger-line, the moose paused in the shadows of the deep forest before reaching the little opening. For three or four minutes he stood there peering into the space around him, listening for some sound to guide him.
At last, as if intending to circle the dangerous ground, as is the habit of the creature, before charging an unknown enemy, the moose began to move off into the deeper woods. The boys felt their muscles relax, though big lumps had come into their throats and they could hear each other breathe. It was a disappointment to see the big fellow go away without trying to get him.
The Woodranger was evidently as anxious as they, and he had no intention of losing the opportunity of capturing the monster, or to risk a more unfavourable situation. Again he scraped his rifle barrel across the hemlock, and then he gave expression to a grunt, imitating the moose so perfectly and sounding so near that the four boys gave starts of terror in spite of their schooling. But this was forgotten in the exciting scenes quickly following.
The moose stopped abruptly in his silent advance, turned sharply and, regardless of the consequence, bounded forward with all of his former rage.
Ever on the alert, Rob Rogers was ready for the monster, and as his huge form dashed into the opening his rifle rang out on the night air. A moment later the weapons of the Stark boys pealed forth simultaneously. But the moon makes an uncertain light for the best marksman, and if the boys hit the desperate animal, their shots did not in the least check his advance. With more fury than ever he charged on the little party in the hemlocks.
Norman, feeling that it was time for him to act, had raised his rifle to take aim at the next favourable opportunity, when he felt a thrill of horror at the sound of another moose at his elbow.
The Woodranger had already heard the cautious movements of the moose in the rear, and its low, harsh grunt had barely fallen on Norman's ears before the forester exclaimed :
" Look to the other, lad ! I'll care for the creatur' in front."
posted by Don at 8:32 AM
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