"Good fer you! Killed him dead!" Joe heard, and, looking down, saw the huge bulk of the animal stretched on the snow, thick steam still issuing from the nostrils.
Let us be strictly truthful again with regard to our hero. Joe was shaking in every limb as he dropped to the ground and stood over the fallen animal; for excitement had told upon his nerves, as yet unaccustomed to such strenuous moments.
"You don't need to be ashamed," said Hank, seeing that Joe looked downcast. "I've seen many an older chap all of a shiver with excitement when the thing was over. The main thing aer that you kept your head and held your sights straight when they was wanted. This here exhibition will have given you a good idea of the moose that roams about Canada, and next time you meet one don't wait too long for his charge. I've known a man to be skewered on those antlers afore you could shout, and killed jest as dead as possible. Reckon we'll skin the brute and take his head. It'll be a fine gift for the Fennicks."
They spent the remainder of the day in skinning the moose and in removing the skull and antlers. Indeed, they camped beside the carcass, not troubling themselves about the other brute, which had retreated at the very beginning of their adventure. That night, for the first time in his young life, Joe cooked moose steaks over the fire and ate of meat of his own getting.
"Prime, ain't it?" grinned Hank, as he devoured a savoury morsel. "But you wait; there'll be more huntin' before we've done with this here expedition."
CHAPTER XIII
A Co-operative Proposition
It was rather later than they had anticipated when Hank and Joe arrived at Sam Fennick's shack on the following day; for again a thaw had set in—not the "silver thaw" so much prized in Canada, which they had previously experienced, and which, by freezing the upper layer of snow and, as it were, laying a sound crust upon it, had enabled them to make good progress, but a thaw unaccompanied by change, or, to be exact, not followed by a succeeding frost. They finished their journey, therefore, through a snowy slush, sinking often above their knees, while their moccasins and their feet were wringing wet and very cold.
Shouts greeted them.