I called after him, but he was in a hurry and couldn't stop, for
there was a thing he didn't care about shakin' hands with, not three
rods from his tail. He heard me, though, and took a circle round a
great boulder, and the moose after him, and as he got straightened my
way, I called him again, and he saw me. He leaped onto the log and
came runnin' up to where I stood, and was mighty glad to be out of the
way of them big hoofs and horns that were after him. He was safe now,
and he opened his mouth and let off a good deal of tall barkin' at his
enemy. The moose saw us, and his fury was the greater because he
couldn't get at us. He kept chargin' back and forth under the log we
were perched on, and if there wasn't malice in his eye, I wouldn't
say so.
"When I first saw him, I was standin' with the butt of my rifle on the
log, my hand graspin' the barrel, and as I caught it up suddenly to
load, the string of my powder-horn caught between the muzzle and the
ramrod, broke, and the horn fell to the ground. Here was a fix for a
hunter to be in. My rifle was empty, and every grain of powder I had
in the world was in the horn, fifteen feet below me, on the ground. To
go down after it was a thing I was principled agin undertaking
considerin' the circumstance of that bull moose with his great horns
and the onpleasant temper he seemed to be in.
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