Part 14 (1/2)

Suddenly Fred, whose sled was in advance, uttered a cry, and pointed to what seemed like a black rock on the snow.

”What is it?” called Mr. Baxter.

”A moose! A big moose! I'm going to have a shot at it!”

As he spoke Holfax gave a cry, and the dogs of all the sleds stopped.

Fred was busy loosening the fur robe that covered him in order to get up.

”Take the snowshoes!” advised Mr. Baxter.

The driver of Fred's sled must have understood, for he handed the boy a pair of the contrivances which enable one to walk on top of soft snow.

Fred, with the Indian's aid, quickly adjusted them. By this time the moose, which had been nosing under the snow to get the mosses which grow there, and on which it feeds, lifted its immense head with the sweeping horns.

”Oh! He's a beauty!” cried Fred. ”I wonder if I can get him?”

”I'll help!” cried Jerry.

”No, let Fred see if he can't get it alone,” advised Mr. Baxter.

With a snort the big animal was off, but the snow was deep, and it sank down at every step. Holding his rifle in readiness, Fred glided forward on the snowshoes. They gave him a great advantage over the beast, for otherwise he would not have been able to get anywhere near it.

As it was, even with sinking to its shoulders at every plunge, the big brute was slowly distancing the boy. Fred determined on a long shot, for he was a fair marksman. Taking as good aim as he could in the excitement of the moment, he fired.

The moose plunged on.

”You've missed!” cried Jerry.

Fred fired once more. But there was no need. By great good luck his one bullet had reached a vital spot, and a moment later the big moose sank down in the snow.

CHAPTER XII

LOST IN THE SNOW

With shouts of joy at the prospect of plenty of fresh meat, the Indians leaped from the sleds, donned showshoes, and were soon at the side of the dead moose. Mr. Baxter, Jerry and the colored man followed.

”Yo' suah am a good shot, Ma.s.sa Fred,” complimented Johnson. ”I once shot a wild turkey, an' goodness, I was so puffed up I hardly knowed mahself.”

”I guess it was more due to good luck than anything else that I hit him,” said Fred modestly.

”Well, it's just in time for dinner,” remarked Mr. Baxter. ”It will be a welcome relief from the canned stuff.”

”I'se gwine t' look out fo' suthin' t' shoot after dis,” announced Johnson. Absent-mindedly he had taken off his heavy mittens to feel of the antlers of the moose, and without thinking what he was doing, he took hold of his rifle barrel in his bare hand. The next instant he uttered a howl of anguish.

”What's the matter?” asked Mr. Baxter quickly.

”Mah hand! It's froze fast t' mah gun! Ah cain't git it off!”