It was a close call, and Frank realized that he was facing an enemy that was not only angry, determined to put down this man-enemy, but was also wily and had a body which, though large, could be handled with agility.
“Don’t shoot yet!” Frank yelled. “Get to the trees!”
The boys went on a burst of speed, though their feet dragged heavily through snow that was almost up to the knees. Frank turned and saw the moose coming at them again with his eyes wider and more fiery, coming to protect his charges, the cows, from the hands of men. This time the animal was headed straight for Lanky.
Frank stopped, raised his rifle, took aim, and let go.
A loud snarl and a snort came from the big animal as the moose reared high in the air on his hind legs and lashed out furiously with its forelegs. In the meanwhile Lanky got away farther from it.
The animal now turned its attention to the direction from which the shot had come, and bore straight for Frank again, but Frank was close to a tree, so he ducked behind it before the moose could charge him.
As the animal passed the tree, Jack Eastwick raised his rifle and fired. Two of the other boys did the same with their shotguns. A wild snorting told them that something was hurting the big fellow or that the shooting was making him angrier.
The cows were huddled together in the little grove.
The moose bull wheeled, stood on his hind legs, and brought down his forefeet to the ground with a terrific clicking sound.
He stood near the cows, sniffing, snorting, snarling, his right forepaw stamping the ground, his body quivering.