Then the moose broke into an awkward run, and was soon lost to view.
A half hour later, while they were still paddling along the shore, they heard a shot from the woods, in the direction taken by the moose.
“Poachers?” said Frank, questioningly. “Do you suppose somebody has fired at our moose?”
CHAPTER VI.
AN UNPLEASANT SITUATION.
That afternoon an eccentric figure came capering through the woods, bearing a strange burden. Perhaps capering is not the exact word to use, for the figure was that of a rotund and fat-legged boy, and it is hard for such a person to caper. Ever and anon this figure sent up a pleased exclamation or a cry of delight.
“Anodder teer’s head!” he shouted, when he came in sight of the camp. “A moose’s teer head this dime, I pet you!”
It was Hans Dunnerwust, and the burden under which he waddled was the head of a moose. He tried to hold it triumphantly aloft as he shouted his announcement, and while making this attempt struck a foot against a protruding root, and went down in a heap, the antlered head falling on top of him.