WHEN TWO PLAYED THE GAME
The moose looked at Phil, and Phil stared at the moose. Both of them seemed to be equally surprised at the unexpected meeting.
Apparently Phil was the first to recover, for the sharp little "click" of his camera shutter acting, after he had quickly drawn a head on the bulky animal, told that he was true to his instinct as a Nature photographer.
It may be that even that little snapping sound angered the moose; or possibly he was just in a mood for trouble. The rutting season was well over by this time of year, and his horns had grown fairly stout, so that they could be trusted to do good service in battle.
Phil never knew. In fact he had no opportunity to make inquiries, or conduct any sort of an investigation. All he became aware of suddenly was that the bull moose had lowered his head, and started toward him at a full gallop.
Now Phil may at times have been called a bold sort of a boy, but he also had a pretty well defined streak of caution in his make-up. Those towering horns had an ugly look to him. He could easily imagine how inconvenient it would seem to feel them brought into personal contact with some part of his body, with all that muscular power of the big animal butting them on.
There was only one thing left for Phil to do, and that was to make himself scarce around that neighborhood as quickly as possible.
Although the boy had never in all his life witnessed such a thing as a genuine bull fight, he understood that the first thing to be done was to dodge. The moose was so close to him that he knew he had very little chance of outstripping those long legs in fair flight.
With this partly formed plan in his head Phil ducked to the left, and started to run. He could have no real motive in choosing this side, because there was no time to take even a quick observation, and form a plan of action.
As it turned out luck favored him in making this hasty choice on the spur of the moment. Had he turned to the right he would have been compelled to cover such an extensive strip of open ground that his fleet-footed enemy must have easily overtaken him. That would have forced Phil to make another side movement, or else be caught up in those branching horns.
He knew what this latter must mean, and that once he found himself knocked down and rendered helpless, he would be rolled along, prodded wickedly, and even jumped upon in the endeavor to disable him.
On the left, though, there were trees close to him that offered some sort of refuge. Phil, hearing the moose putting after him at full speed, hastened to swing his body around the first of the trunks he came to. It would offer a barrier against the attacks of the animal until he could get his wits about him, and figure out some plan.
A minute later and the moose was chasing him around the tree in a merry way. All the games Phil had ever played with his schoolmates in days gone by were not a circumstance to the one he found himself engaged in with that determined animal. The more he was disappointed at reaching his supposed enemy the greater became the fury of the moose. He stamped, and whistled, and butted his head against the tree; after which he would start on another fast trot around it, the performance consisting of perhaps a dozen or a score of circles.
Phil had the inner ring, and could of course move much faster around than the enemy. Still, it was not long before he became heartily tired of that continual and useless work. It began to make him dizzy, too. He found himself wondering whether the moose meant to keep going in these spirals until he had exhausted the boy; and how long it was possible to keep this sort of thing up before he fell over.
It was in vain that he shouted in the face of the animal; the sound of a human voice did not seem to have any effect, unless it was to make the beast show fresh animation, as though spurred on to renewed vigor.
"However am I to get the better of the old fool?" Phil asked himself between his puffs; for this happened after he had been chased another dozen times around the well-worn path.
There was a breathing spell, as the moose halted for a brief time. Phil did not cherish any hope or expectation that the beast meant to retire, and leave him to himself. In fact he began to believe the big animal was having the time of his life, and enjoying it immensely.
"Which is more than I can say I'm doing," Phil grumbled; "this ring-around-the-rosy business is played out, and I've just got to find some way to stop it."
Taking advantage of the breathing spell he cast a hurried look back of him. Of course he did not dream that such a thing as help could come; on the contrary his only expectation was that he might find some way by means of which he could extricate himself from his dilemma.
"Bully! if I can only make that clump of small trees I ought to manage it!" was what Phil exclaimed.
There was no time for more just then. Mr. Bull Moose was ready for another frolic, having freshened up. So again they chased madly around that tree, the hoofs of the animal tearing up the ground until it looked as though he had made a regular race-track there.
When finally the new inning came to a close Phil was fairly panting for breath, and more dizzy than ever.
"A few more turns like that would do me up!" he gasped; and then gritted his teeth with a determination to make the break he had figured on.
Fortunately the moose always seemed to come to a stand at about the same spot. This brought the little clump of trees exactly behind Phil, which fact would give him a chance to get fairly started before the moose became aware of his intention.
Taking in a long breath the boy suddenly darted away.
He instantly heard the moose rushing after him. The distance was short, and so Phil managed to swing around his new shelter, with those ugly horns not more than five feet behind him.
Well, that was all the margin he needed for safety. The new barrier would cause him to cover much more ground with every revolution; but then it was not his purpose to keep this up any longer than was absolutely necessary.
A great wave of relief swept over the boy when he managed to slip in between two of the small trees, and found that he was well protected on all sides from the enraged animal's horns.
In vain did the moose attempt to insert his head between the trees. Phil kicked at him, and continued his shouts. By now he was beginning to feel that the advantage was swinging over to his side. He had done nothing to incur this hostility on the part of the animal, and was surely entitled to the privilege of defending himself as best he could, even to the extent of inflicting injury on his four-footed enemy.
Perhaps at some time in the past a monster tree had been cut down on this spot, and these second-growth saplings had sprung up in a circle that was wide enough to afford a nimble boy shelter. The towering horns of the moose, more than anything else, rendered it difficult for him to reach Phil.
This second stage of the affair was a decided improvement on the first, Phil assured himself. At the same time he was not satisfied. He failed to see the fun of being kept a prisoner, cooped up in that limited space for perhaps hours. It was no fault of his that the moose chanced to be in an ugly humor; and just then, if Phil Bradley had had any sort of firearm along he would have felt justified in dispatching that furious animal. Game laws are good things, but even they must be broken when one's life is placed in jeopardy.
Besides his pocket knife Phil had nothing on his person that could be called a weapon. For once he had even left his hunting knife at the cabin, and bitterly he repented of his unusual thoughtlessness. It would never happen again he told himself, when he realized how helpless he was.
When the moose again started trying to get at him Phil conceived a new hope. It was in the shape of an inspiration, and he watched eagerly in the expectation that such a thing might come to pass.
What if the moose did find a way to crowd his head between two of the trees, by slanting it sideways; what if in his stupidity he was unable to extricate it again, and could only tug frantically backwards becoming excited and helpless?
That would be turning the tables in great shape. Phil had seen cows confined in stall yokes somewhat after that fashion. He also knew how green turtles are captured in large mesh nets down along the Florida coast streams like Indian River; for the stupid creature, having passed its flippers through the net, and being unable to continue the forward movement on account of the bulging shell, simply keeps trying to urge itself on, and never dreaming that it could back out by reversing its flippers.
There was one particular place where Phil thought the chances seemed fairly good that the horns of the moose might pass through, provided he turned his head the proper way.
In order to try out his scheme he did all in his power to coax the animal to begin operations in that section. For a while it seemed as though the moose persistently avoided the larger opening. Everywhere else he struggled the best he knew how to reach the prisoner of the saplings, even pawing viciously at him with his hoofs.
"I must make a big bluff of meaning to slip out through that hole," Phil told himself; "and when he gets around there perhaps he'll fall into the trap."
This he immediately started to carry out. It worked like a charm, too, for he had barely time to dodge back into his asylum when his captor came up against the tree next the wider opening with a bang.
After that Phil easily led him into making a fresh effort to insert his horned head through that opening. Eagerly the boy watched every move on the part of the determined animal. Twice it looked as though success was about to crown the effort of the moose.
"Keep going!" Phil told him, encouragingly, as he tapped the animal's nose with the toe of his shoe, just to keep his temper up, so he might not get weary of his task; "one good turn deserves another. The third time takes the cake. Just manage to get your old horns through first, and then you can push that big head after, as easy as pie. That's the way. Whoop! he's really done it!"
Of course the moose could not understand the explicit directions which Phil was only too willingly handing him; but by some chance he did manage to get his obstructive horns through, and then follow with his head; though his shoulders would prevent him from going only so far. Phil thought he had been neatly trapped, and his next move was of course to slip out of the circle by another exit.
"Wonder now if I dare skip out, and leave him there?"
Phil asked himself this as he saw that the moose had already taken the alarm over his condition, and was acting wildly, twisting his head in every direction, and straining to drag it out.
"What if his horns gave way, or broke off? Oh! that time he came within an ace of getting free! He may be smarter than a turtle, and remember how he pushed in. I'd be in a bad box if he did get free, and chased after me again lickety-split!"
Phil believed it was his best policy to stay there, and watch a while longer, just to see what the animal would do. If some time passed, and the moose did not seem able to extricate himself from his sad dilemma, then Phil believed he could take his hurried departure; though he meant to snap off a picture of the animal first.
"Might as well do that same now, while I have the chance," he went on to say; and stepping well back to where he could get a fine view of the imprisoned moose, he again made use of his camera to advantage.
Hardly had he done so than he saw the animal twisting his head again in a way that threatened to bring about the catastrophe which Phil dreaded. In fact the boy had only time to once more hurriedly gain the shelter of the clump of trees when he saw the moose withdraw his head from its yoke.
"Well, it looks like you might be a smart one," muttered Phil, as he found himself once more fast in the trap, with the enraged animal striking at him with his hoofs, and making all sorts of queer noises that might be taken for threats.
When this had gone on for nearly half an hour, and there was no sign of a cessation, Phil started to exercise his wits again. First he began an investigation of his pockets to see if there might not be some means for bringing this ridiculous and uncomfortable situation to an end.
"What's this?" he exclaimed, as he drew forth a small package and stared at it, as if unable on the spur of the moment to understand what it was or how it came to be there; then it flashed upon him, and he gave a wild shout of joy.
"Why, would you believe it, this must be the little paper of black pepper I had in my pack. Lub was asking for some this morning, while cooking breakfast; and when he handed it back to me I must have dropped it in my pocket without thinking what I was doing, meaning to put it on the shelf when I stood up. Hurrah! if ever a pinch of pepper was worth its weight in gold that time is now. It seems mighty cruel to do such a thing, but what else is left to me?"
Of course it was an easy thing to get close enough to the moose to scatter some of the pepper over his head. It did seem a cruel thing to do, and Phil would never tell the story without a feeling of shame; but he considered that his life was at stake, and hence he was justified in going to such extreme measures.
The actions of the bull moose immediately told that the siege was going to be called off without delay. He shook his head, snorted furiously, and then turning galloped away. Phil saw him collide with a tree before he passed from view, and the sight caused him to utter an exclamation of pity.
"But he'll pull through it in time," the boy was saying, as he came out of his place of refuge; "by to-morrow it'll be pretty nearly over. I wonder if he's learned a lesson, and will give two-legged strangers a wide berth after this. Well, it was all his own fault. He had no need to get into such a tearing rage because I took his picture. But let me tell you I'm as tired as if I'd been running a ten mile race. Every muscle in my body aches from the sudden jumps I had to give."
Phil felt that on the whole he had come out of the scrape with honors. And whenever he looked at that picture of the moose with his head fast among the saplings, it would be apt to remind him forcibly of the adventure.
"No more tramping for me to-day," he continued, shaking his head; "I've had good and plenty of it. The rest can wait for another time. Even if I didn't snap off another view all the time I was up here I'd feel it paid me to come; but I've got a few more cards up my sleeve to play. That flashlight business is going to pan out just great, I can see. Now to head for home. I can imagine how the boys' eyes will stare when I tell them what I've been up against, and prove it with that picture."