“Not a chance with this machine,” Paul replied dolefully. “I only wish I could. It would be a wonderful picture.”
The boys looked forward again, skating around a part of the lake before attempting to fish.
“What’s that?” Lanky pointed quickly off to their left, bringing himself to an immediate stop.
The boys looked after the excited Lanky’s pointing finger.
Just at the shore of the lake, perhaps a quarter of a mile distant, stood three moose cows, huddled together, and to one side from them stood, pawing the ground, a bull moose.
Further along, across a little clearing between two clumps of hemlocks and pines which fringed the lake, the boys saw a monster animal, with a spread of horns which seemed several times larger than the body itself. It was a giant moose bull, its head held back, and they heard a roar of battle issue from it!
“P-s-st!” Frank hissed through his teeth. “The wind’s blowing our way. Let’s keep close together and move that way very, very slowly. Don’t talk, don’t move fast, don’t even breathe. Let’s see if we can get one!”
Like Indians of an older day, sneaking upon their prey, they formed in single file, presenting only one body to the animals, and started forward very quietly. But four pairs of eyes were watching the shore like hawks making ready to swoop down.
Suddenly they saw the larger bull put his head toward the ground and charge directly at the smaller one. Not lifting the head, he came forward at an increasing pace, evidently intent on running the other animal down by the sheer weight of his great body.
The smaller bull moose stood at bay, his forepaws scraping at the ground, waiting the oncoming antagonist.