“Harness up the dogs,” he said presently, “pack me into the toboggan, and let’s start for camp. We haven’t any time to lose, for it gets cold on a sled when the sun goes down.”
So Larry called the dogs, who were loth to leave their feast, packed the old man into the bag on the toboggan so that only his head showed above the flaps, and started.
Several times he had tried to get the old hunter to tell him how it had all happened; but Martin put him off, assuring him that there would be plenty of time for talking when they were back in camp again.
Once the start was made there was no chance for talking, all Larry’s energies being required to keep the now lazy dogs up to their usual speed. And now he realized the wisdom of not feeding them until their day’s work was done, as was Martin’s inflexible rule. He was kept busy steering the toboggan around rough places that would jar his passenger, as the old man’s excruciating pain was accentuated by every additional shock. Yet Martin would not consider stopping, or even slackening the pace; and as the dogs warmed to their work after the first few miles they were able to make the camp just as the sun was setting, all hands ready to drop from exhaustion.
They found Larry’s big fire still burning, and in a few minutes he had warmed up the remains of the feast he had planned for the night before. Then, when he had wrapped up the injured leg, and propped the old hunter in a comfortable position before the fire, Martin was ready to tell his story.
“Don’t you mind now, and look scared whenever I screw up my face,” the old man began; “for the pain shoots around pretty bad at times. But I’ll stand it all right, and I’ll kill many a bull moose to pay for it, too.”
Then he chuckled softly in the old familiar manner.
“What makes me laugh,” he said, “is to think that all this time I have been letting you think that I am something of a hunter, trying to show you how to kill game; and here you go out and kill the moose that came mighty near killing me. This is how it all happened:
“I came across signs of game after I had left the camp about an hour, and the signs were good too; but still I didn’t get sight of anything, and I kept going right on until well after noon. So I decided to turn about and take the back track home, feeling sure that I should have better luck on the way in. Sure enough, when I came near the place where you found me, I found where a moose had floundered along through the snow, probably scared from some yard by my scent as I passed. He was standing near the big rock and as the wind was blowing toward me, he hadn’t discovered me.
“So I worked around to get the rock between us, and then I sneaked up so as to get a close shot and make sure of him. I ought to have tried a longer shot at him, but you see the .38-40 is a pretty small cartridge for moose except at close range, and I intended to get him, sure.