"How about that, Francois?" asked Frank, who, it might be noticed, kept his gun close beside him now, as though meaning to be ready in case another cause for excitement arose.
"It is not often zat ze bull moose come up here," replied the French Canadian, in his queer patois; "but sometimes in summer zey wander far afield. I haf seen ze same so mooch as three hundred mile north from here."
"One thing sure, there are plenty of caribou around," Teddy went on to say; "and when the meat's tender, it suits me all right. I'm running across new things every day up here, and don't feel sorry I came, so far."
"New things seem to be running across us also," chuckled Frank; "for instance, the monster that just invaded our camp. But as our supply of red sweaters has given out now, we'll hope not to have a repeat of that charge in a hurry."
"Me for a tree if ever I hear anything on four legs heading this way again!" Jimmy told them. "Why, what would have happened to me if the old four flusher had set his hoofs square on my stomach? I'd be feeling pretty punk right now, believe me."
"I think I'll take to the tall timber myself if this thing gets common," was what Jack observed. "My stars! but he was a whopper. Looked like the side of a house to me when he sizzled past, scattering the fire, leveling our best tent, and kicking up a whole circus with a band wagon attached."
"What was it we were talking about when we had that unexpected call?" asked Teddy.
"Ned was telling us something more that trapper we met said to him about the queer things that happen away up here in this uninhabited country, which is so different from any other known land. Didn't he say something about a phantom fleet of vessels that kept bobbing up every now and then, only to speed away like ghosts. What did you make of that silly rot, Ned?"
"I've been puzzling my head over it ever since," Ned replied, "but for the life of me can't make head or tail of the story. I've almost come to the conclusion that the trapper was a little dippy, and just imagined he saw those vessels."
"Sounds like it to me, Ned," Jack declared. "Whatever would vessels of any kind want up in Hudson Bay, if not to fish, or hunt whales, or seals, or walrus? And why should they flit around like ghosts, as he said? Chances are the old chap was using up his surplus stock of strong drink, and saw things where they didn't exist."