Now he remembered having heard at Morton that moose had lately been seen in this district. At one time they were plentiful; then for years they had vanished, and were only beginning to reappear as they strayed south from the great game-preserves to the north.
At most times of the year they are exceedingly shy and timid animals, hard to get in view. Bob was amazed that this one had let him come up so close, and he was edging forward to get a better look through the tangle of under brush in front of him when the animal charged at him furiously.
He jumped aside, found himself near a low-branched cedar, and scrambled up it. He had just time to draw his legs out of reach when the moose crashed into the tree with a force that jarred it to the roots.
When Bob recovered his breath he had time to feel astonished and indignant at this unprovoked attack. Bull moose are sometimes dangerous in the rutting season of autumn, but never in early summer, and the horns of this one had not yet quite outgrown their “velvet.”
But he was clearly in a murderous temper. He stamped, tore up the earth and brushes around the cedar, gritted his teeth, and cocked his eye upward at the bee-keeper with a baleful glare. Then, all at once, Bob saw what was the matter.
The lower part of the bull’s right shoulder was mangled and torn with wounds that were evidently not more than a day or two old. They might have been made by the claws of a bear; more likely by a charge of buckshot. Anyhow, they were enough to account for a good deal of bad temper, for they must have caused intense pain.
But the bull’s hostility did not seem to last long. Bob was looking upwards to see if he could climb higher in his tree, and when he glanced down again the space beneath him was empty. The moose had slipped silently away into the woods.
Whether he had really fled or was merely hiding in a near-by thicket Bob could not tell. He hesitated to come down, and for some minutes he sat dubiously in the branches, looking carefully about him for the enemy. Then something caught his eye that gave him a joyful surprise.
About twenty yards away there was a great brownish lump clustered at the tip of a low maple sapling, which bent slightly under the weight. Bob stared at it intently. It was certainly a swarm of bees. It could hardly be any other than the one he was chasing. If it had not been for the bull moose he might not have seen them, for they were aside from the straight line, and so near the ground that an elevated post was needed to distinguish them.
He was desperately anxious to secure them now, for there was no telling when they might take wing again. He waited for some ten minutes very impatiently. No sign nor sound came from the moose, and Bob slid to earth and hastened toward the little maple.