"Either that, or else there are some hunters on the mountain. If they are hunters I hope they don't shoot this way."
"So do I, Owen. Only last year a hunter up here took one of the choppers for a wild animal and put a ball through his shoulder."
"If they shoot this way and I see them I'll give 'em a piece of my mind. They ought to be careful. A fellow——Hark!"
Both listened and from a distance made out a strange crashing through the underbrush of the forest. Then came a thud and more crashing.
"It's a wild animal, coming this way!" sang out Dale. "Better get your gun."
"Perhaps it's a bear!" ejaculated Owen, and lost no time in dropping his ax and picking up his gun.
The crashing now ceased for a moment, and the only sound that reached their ears was the moaning of the wind through the treetops far overhead. The wind was blowing up the hillside, so that the wild beast, if such it really was, could not scent them.
Another shot rang out, from the same direction as the first. This appeared to rouse up whatever was in the wood, and the crashing was resumed with increasing vigor.
"It's coming, whatever it is!" sang out Dale, and pointed out the direction with his hand.
Hardly had the words left his lips when the underbrush and snow beyond the ridge were pushed aside and into the opening staggered a magnificent moose, with wide-spreading antlers and wild, terror-struck eyes. The game limped because of a wound in the left flank, and there was another wound in the side, from which the blood was flowing freely.