Tad Butler came to a sudden halt, at the same time slipping his revolver from its holster, but as quickly replacing it when he observed the real condition of affairs.
There stood Stacy with the crimsoned knife still in hand, the other hand thrust in his trousers pocket, his chest thrown out, his head tilted back at an angle that threatened to topple him over backwards.
"What—what?" gasped Tad.
By that time Cale Vaughn had reached Tad's side.
"What has happened here?" demanded the guide sharply.
"That," answered Tad, pointing to the dying moose that had fallen a victim to the fat boy's hunting knife.
"Good gracious!" exclaimed Cale. He, too, was well-nigh speechless. "Who did that?"
"I did it with my little knife," answered the fat boy pompously.
"It's a bull moose, sir, and the boy has killed it," said the guide in a puzzled voice, as the Professor, with Ned Rector and Walter Perkins, came running up to them. "This is the most remarkable thing I ever heard of."
"Oh, that's nothing," replied Chunky airily. "It is only pleasant pastime to go out and kill a moose by hand."