The Professor was regarding the boy narrowly. A dawning suspicion was in his mind that Stacy was drawing the longbow. But Professor Zepplin made no comment.
"And then?" inquired Cale quietly.
"And then we met. I—I must have grabbed the bull by the horns after he had swung around twice and tried to kick me—"
"That sounds more like a kangaroo than a bull moose," observed the Professor.
"It was this same moose, Professor. This is what is known as the kicking species of moose," answered Tad, trying to keep a straight face.
"Yes, he is like some folks we know not more than a mile and a half from here. He was a kicker. Well, I caught him by the horns just like this. Then you should have seen the fun. Why we thrashed around"—Stacy was acting it all out, bellowing loudly—"he flopped me this way and that. Funny thing, but I never thought of my knife."
"No?" said the guide, elevating his eyebrows slightly.
"No, sir. Of course if I had had a gun, I would have shot him. But I didn't have a gun, and having so few chances to use my knife, I never thought a thing about it. Well, we had it hot and heavy until I did think of the knife."
"Why didn't you let go?" asked Walter.
"Fine thing to do, that," answered Stacy scornfully. "Why, he would have bored me through with his antlers; then he would have come into camp and killed you all. You see, I was determined to save your lives as well as my own."