Then the guide gave them an exhibition of moose driving. By yanking this way and that on the line, he was able to alter the moose’s course, and that showed that he could turn it almost at his will.
Not once did the moose seek to turn and fight as Merriwell had thought he would do if lassoed. It seemed only intent on getting away from its tormentors, and appeared to think the way to do that was to swim straight ahead toward the land as fast as it could.
Hans was still hopping up and down on the shore, and now and then sending a screech of excitement and delight across the water.
After he had shown that the moose could be turned about if desired, Caribou let the scared animal take its own course. The distance across was considerable, and he knew the moose would be tired by the swim.
He held the line, while Frank and Bruce sat in their places enjoying the novel ride to the fullest extent.
Thus the canoe was towed across the arm of the bay, giving to our friends an experience that few sportsmen or tourists are able to enjoy.
As the moose neared the shore, Caribou severed the line close up to its antlers and let it go. It was pretty well blown, as the heaviness of its breathing showed.
Scrambling out of the water, it turned half at bay, as if feeling that, with its broad hoofs planted on solid ground it could make a stand for its life; but when the occupants of the canoe showed no intention of advancing to attack it, it gave its ungainly head a toss and shambled away, the severed end of the noose floating from its antlers.
Merriwell caught up his camera and snapped it on the moose before it entered the woods, so getting a picture of a moose fresh from a swim in the lake, with its shaggy sides wet and gleaming.