“I sneaked along until I was right behind the rock, and then I stepped out and shot point blank for his head. But just at the very second I pulled the trigger the old rascal had to jerk his head about six inches to one side, so that the bullet ploughed deep into his neck, just where it would hurt and make him mad, but nothing more.
“And then all the trouble happened in about three seconds. I jerked down the lever to throw in another cartridge, for he was coming right at me. But Jumping Jee-rusalem! if the old gun didn’t jam. The head of the empty shell had broken off and stuck in the chamber! I didn’t have any time for investigating, for the bull was right on top of me, so I just jumped for the side of that rock. Nothing but a fly could have gone up it—without help; and I knew that then as well as I do now. But I hadn’t any choice. And the curious thing is that the old moose himself furnished the help.
“He was so close to me when I jumped that one of his points caught my leg and ripped it open as he went along; but at the same time he flung his head up and threw me clean up the side of the rock. So by the time he could stop and turn around I was up out of his reach. But I was his meat, all the same. All he had to do was to sit down and wait long enough and I’d freeze or starve to death.
“He had no notion of waiting, though,—that is, not at first. He planned to come right up there and finish the job. But you see he didn’t have any friend around to hook him in the leg and give him a boost as I had, so he couldn’t make it. He tried for a full hour, getting madder and madder every minute, snorting and pawing up the snow, and then coming back for another try at me. And there I had to sit and take it, with my gun lying down below in the snow.
“Pretty soon I saw that the old scoundrel had settled down for a regular siege. He gave up trying to reach me, but he never took his eyes off me, and just walked ’round and ’round that rock hoping I’d come down. I’ll bet he made that circle a thousand times in two hours.
“I thought when night came that he would start off and give it up, and several times he did go away behind a clump of trees a few rods away. But the minute I raised my head or moved a finger he was right back on the job again.
“Then I knew that my time had come. It wasn’t such a terribly cold night, you know, but I lay out there in the open with nothing over me, and I was mighty weak from the blood I’d lost. And I knew that I was slowly freezing to death. I thought of a dozen things to try, but all of them were hopeless. There was no use in sliding off and grabbing the rifle for by the time I could get the broken cartridge out the moose would have killed me several times over. If it hadn’t been for the leg I’d have come down and fought it out with the old brute with my hunting knife. I have done that before with a wounded bull. But I was so weak that I could hardly raise my body, let alone my leg. So I just settled down to freeze.
“But you see I’m a tough old rooster, and when the sun came up this morning I was still there, with my moose taking good care that I should stay there. By that time, though, I didn’t care much whether he stayed or not. It didn’t make any difference. For I couldn’t have crawled fifty yards if I’d had the chance I was so stiff and weak.
“After a while I dozed off; and the next thing I remember I heard the bull fighting with some wolves. I thought they were wolves then, but I didn’t even open my eyes to see, although I hoped they’d kill him. And then something sounded familiar about those wolves’ voices, and I turned my head. And there was old Jack and Kim trying to even up my score with the old critter.
“My God! boy, I never knew what it was to be glad about anything in my life before! There you were coming with the little gun, and there was Jack on one side and Kim on the other taking out hunks from the old moose’s side at every jump, and—”