No wonder that he kept the shanty door closed
that night, and next morning when he studied the sandy ridges he
read plainly that his night visitor had been not a lynx or a fox,
but a prowling cougar or panther.
On the third morning as he went forth in the still early dawn he
heard a snort, and looking toward the spruce woods, was amazed to
see towering up, statuesque, almost grotesque, with its mulish
ears and antediluvian horns, a large bull moose.
Rolf was no coward, but the sight of that monster so close to him
set his scalp a-prickling. He felt so helpless without any
firearms. He stepped into the cabin, took down his bow and
arrows, then gave a contemptuous "Humph; all right for partridge
and squirrels, but give me a rifle for the woods!" He went out
again; there was the moose standing as before. The lad rushed
toward it a few steps, shouting; it stared unmoved. But Rolf was
moved, and he retreated to the cabin. Then remembering the
potency of fire he started a blaze on the hearth. The thick
smoke curled up on the still air, hung low, made swishes through
the grove, until a faint air current took a wreath of it to the
moose.
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