Chapter VIII: Again on the Trail

"Here's about where I stood when I heard something rushing off, and looked just in time to get a peek at the moose."

As he said this Ethan pointed down to where the marks of his snow-shoes could be plainly seen.

"Now lead me to where you saw the moose, which I take it must have been over there in that direction," remarked Phil.

"As sure as you live," declared the other; "and I guess you knew that from the way my tracks set, eh, Phil?"

"Just what I did look at the first thing," confessed the other.

Presently they were bending over the trail in the deep snow which showed where the alarmed moose had gone plunging off.

"It's a moose, all right," Phil admitted, without much delay.

"Can you tell if it was a bull?" asked the other.

"Well, not from the tracks. Did you happen to notice any horns on the beast?" was what Phil inquired.

"I can't just say I did; but then it all happened so quick I couldn't be dead sure either way. It's a good-sized critter anyway, I think, Phil."

"Yes, no doubt about that, Ethan. But let's get started on the trail."

That pleased Ethan, for he was full of eagerness. The love for hunting ran full and strong in his veins. Phil used to be built in the same way, but since discovering the peculiar fascination of hunting with a flashlight camera he seemed to be losing much of his former liking for killing game. He would much rather spend his time playing his skill and brains against the natural caution of the wearers of fur, in endeavoring to photograph them in their native haunts.

For a while they continued to move along. Sometimes they could make pretty good speed, where the going was easy; and then again it became necessary to push through thickets where the branches were so thick as to hold them up.

"Have you any idea yet whether it's a bull or a cow?" asked Ethan, after they must have been going fully two hours.

"Not absolutely," returned Phil; "but I've got an idea we're going to find it the latter."

"Tell me what you base your judgment on, please, Phil."

"I may be all wrong at that," replied the other, who never set himself up as infallible. "There have been a few places where the chase led us through thick woods, with the lower limbs of the trees hanging down under their snow burden just so far. If the moose had big horns, which would be the case in a bull, no matter how far back on his shoulders he laid them they would be apt to break some of the twigs loose above, and we'd have seen them lying on the snow."

"Then I take it from what you say there were none of these signs, eh, Phil?"

"Not that I could see, and I looked carefully, not once but several times. I'm afraid, Ethan, your moose is going to turn out a big cow after all."

"And we promised ourselves we wouldn't shoot a cow moose even if we had to go without such big game, didn't we, Phil?"

"That's where I have the bulge on you, Ethan," laughed the other.

"As how?" demanded the eager hunter; "you sure subscribed to that rule with the rest of us, Phil."

"Yes, but only so far as my gun went," he was told; "I can shoot that cow with my camera, and never injure a hair of her hide, you see."

At that Ethan shrugged his shoulders, and made a grimace.

"Yes, that's a fact, you have got the jump on us, Phil. But I suppose, then, we can keep on the move, and take our chance of catching up with the cow, so as to let you get in a snap-shot of the same?"

"We'll keep going up, to a certain limit," figured Phil; "I wouldn't care to tramp beyond that. We'd want to be able to make the home camp by night, you know."

"As for that," said Ethan, indifferently, "what should we worry about even if we had to stay out a night? Fact is, I'd rather enjoy the experience in your company. So don't count me in when you're figuring things, Phil. I c'n take pot-luck any old time."

As on the previous day Phil could readily tell that they were gaining on the animal they followed. He had shown Ethan where the moose spent the previous night and it seemed as though the animal could not have been very greatly alarmed by seeing the young hunter, for it had not gone more than two miles after that before stopping to browse upon some tender branches of a certain tree, and stop until another day dawned.

The trail did not always keep on in a direct line, but there was more or less of a zigzag movement about it. From this Phil drew the conclusion that the moose must be scouring the bush in hopes of meeting up with others of its kind, so as to keep company with them for the balance of the long winter.

It began to get along toward high noon.

Ethan felt hungry, since they had been on the tramp a long while now. Still he did not dream of stopping to build a fire, and waste time with such foolishness, thus losing most of the advantage they had gained.

"We can chew at something as we keep right along, eh, Phil?" he remarked, after mentioning the subject of lunch.

"Yes, unless we come up with our game before the sun is at the zenith," the other replied. "Of course, after we've met the moose we needn't be in such a hurry, and an hour's rest would make both of us feel a heap better for the return journey."

Apparently Ethan was quite content to let it go at that, for he did not mention the subject again.

A short time afterward Phil whispered that the trail was so fresh he would not be surprised if they came in sight of the moose at any moment. He had slung his gun to his back and held his camera ready for instant use in case the chance came.

Of course they could never have come so close to the animal had the wind been blowing from them toward the moose; but the animal followed the habit of most of the deer tribe in advancing into the wind, so as to be able to detect any danger ahead.

Then all at once Ethan gave a low cry.

"Look, Phil!"

There was a snap, and Phil had secured a picture of a big animal not unlike a hornless domestic cow standing there staring at them. He even had time to roll the film and get his camera in condition for business again before, with a sudden plunge the unwieldy beast went off through the drifts.

"Got two beauty shots at her, didn't you?" queried Ethan; "oh! what a dandy chance for me to pull trigger, if it had only been a big bull with massive horns. But I'm glad for your sake there was so fine a picture. It ought to make a dandy showing, with the snow woods for a background, and those dark firs on the right."

Of course now that the excitement was all over the boys began to feel somewhat tired after such tedious walking with the clumsy snow-shoes; so when Phil suggested that they find a good place, make a cheerful fire, and sit around in comfort while they ate their lunch, there was no objection from his companion.

A fire is certainly the hunter's best friend, in winter time at least. Without it how gloomy and cheerless would his surroundings appear, and what physical discomfort must he endure?

The two boys sat there for more than an hour, a friendly log serving them for a seat.

There was plenty of fuel to be had for the gathering; indeed, the site had been selected on that very account.

"I'm trying to make out just which way we ought to go so as to strike that little stream," Phil was saying, when the other asked what he was doing with a pencil and paper.

"Oh! you mean the one McNab called Cranberry Creek, and that has the beaver colony on it, somewhere like five miles from our lake; is that it, Phil?"

"Yes, and this is how I figure it," continued the other, showing what he had done in drawing a rough map on the paper. "Here is the camp on the lake; this is the way we got to where we are sitting now, having headed pretty generally into the north. This is the way the creek runs, so if we start from here and keep bending a little to the west we're likely to strike the stream."

"Looks good to me, Phil."

"Then let's call that our program," Phil wound up with saying.

"According to the way you figure how long a distance would you think we'd have to cover before we got to the creek?" asked Ethan.

"Oh! anywhere between half a mile, and three times as far," the other told him.

"And after we reach the frozen creek," continued Ethan, "all we have to do is to follow it down to the lake, hoping to run across the beaver village on the way."

"Just so, and since we've rested and feel in good trim again, suppose we make a start right away?"

Ethan had no objections. He liked to be on the move, and besides, there may have been a lingering hope still lodged in his mind that they might happen to come upon a noble bull moose before the tramp was over. If there was one of those animals wandering around that region why not others?

So as he strode along Ethan was careful to keep in condition for business. And if by good luck they did happen on game he meant to do his type of shooting even as Phil pressed the button and featured the moose for admiring eyes at home to see.

They were heading pretty generally into the west, though it was Phil's idea to swing around gradually, and begin to aim more for the lake. Ethan left all that to his chum. He never boasted of his ability to keep track of localities; in fact, on numerous occasions Ethan had lost himself. It was a weakness, he admitted it, and one so ambitious a hunter ought to be ashamed of; but somehow Ethan rather enjoyed the sensation of finding himself suddenly thrown on his own resources, and being compelled to find his way out of a labyrinth.

"I always did like to solve any old puzzle when I was a little kid," he used to say when Phil took him to task for his lack of forethought in this particular, "and when you wake up to the knowledge that you're really and truly without your bearings, seems like you had a new and intricate riddle to guess. And I haven't starved to death yet, you notice. Guess I'll always be able to _smell_ my way home, one way or another."

At the same time Ethan frankly confessed that his way was not the right one, and he did not advise any one else to copy after him. They might not enjoy the sensation like he did; or have that faculty for "smelling" home, the instinct that causes a bee to start on a straight line for the hive after loading itself up with nectar from the blossoms, even when a mile distant from home.

The cold seemed to be getting worse, if anything, and Ethan predicted that they would have a bitter night of it.

"But then what do we care?" he added, with a laugh; "with plenty of good grub, a warm fire under a snug shelter, and blankets to wrap around us, we can afford to snap our fingers at the cold weather clerk. Let him order out one of those Canada blizzards we've heard so much about, if he wants to give the Mountain Boys a run for their money."

"We must have covered a whole mile after leaving the place where we sat on that log and ate our lunch," remarked Phil.

"And no creek yet, as far as I've seen, Phil!"

"Nothing doing," admitted the other; "so I think we'd better begin to swing around a little more to the southwest from now on."

"You'll try another half mile, you said, didn't you?" asked Ethan.

"That will be all I care to risk. If the old creek hasn't cropped up by then we might as well give it up for to-day. Another time I'll start up from where it flows into the lake."

"That would be the better way, Phil; you'd make sure then of finding the beaver colony, if it was still there. As we're going we may even strike the creek below the dam, and have all our extra walk for nothing."

The woods seemed very still. Even the crows had gone somewhere for the day to find their rations. Early in the morning the boys had seen flocks flying in a certain quarter, and Phil had given it as his opinion they were heading toward a large lake that would not be frozen up so early in the winter, and along the shores of which doubtless crows could pick up plenty of food.

"Looks like I wasn't going to be treated to that shot at a moose to-day, at any rate," half grumbled Ethan, who had been considerably disappointed because the animal they had tracked so persistently had failed to turn out to be a bull with towering horns, and a fit subject for his skill with the rifle.

"Other days coming," Phil told him, consolingly; "and we've had a fine tramp on our snow-shoes to boast of, even if I hadn't secured the snapshots I did."

"Excuse me for speaking in the way I did, Phil; I forgot myself that time. It's all in a day's work, I guess. And I want you to understand that it's a treat for me just to get out in the woods along with you."

"I thought I heard something just then," said Phil, quickly, swinging his camera around so as to be ready; while Ethan drew back the hammer of his rifle once more, his eyes sparkling with renewed anticipation.

"Yes, I can get it, too, Phil," he whispered; "it sounds as if it might be over yonder in that thick patch of trees. Move a little to the left, so we can have a clear field in case it rushes out. Now let's advance slowly."

They kept on going ahead, and nothing burst into view. Still that queer sound came to their ears. It was not unlike a sob, Ethan thought; though he immediately took himself to task for imagining such a silly thing.

Picking up a stick he gave it a toss into the thicket. The sound stopped, it was true, but not a thing appeared.

Then a minute later and they heard it again. The two boys turned wondering eyes on each other.

"What in the dickens can it be?" whispered Ethan, in a puzzled way.

"I give it up; let's push in and see. Be ready, if it's a cat, which is the only thing I can think of," said Phil.

With that they started ahead again, and gradually working into the thicket soon found themselves staring at a sight calculated to amaze them.