In another instant the line tightened, and they were yanked swiftly along.
“Towed by a moose!” exclaimed Browning. “That’s a new sensation, Merry!”
“Yes; this is great. This is what you might call moose-head express,” laughed Frank.
“It’s enough to make a fellow feel romantic, anyway,” grunted Browning. “Pulled by a moose on Moosehead Lake, with an Indian guide to do the steering.”
The moose was now badly frightened, and showed signs of wanting to turn around, whereupon the guide picked up the paddle and gave it a tap on the side of the head.
This brought a floundering objection from the scared animal, but it had, nevertheless, the desired effect, for the moose again started off smartly for the opposite shore, drawing the canoe after it.
The big beast did not seem to be tired, but it puffed and panted like a steam engine.
“That’s right, Caribou,” cried Merriwell, approvingly. “Just hang on and let him go. I don’t mind a ride of this kind. It’s a sort of sport we weren’t looking for, but it’s great, just the same.”
“Much fun with big bull moose in water some time,” Caribou repeated. “Drive big moose like horse.”