Frank in the Woods

by Harry Castlemon

“Now, youngsters, we are a’most to the moose-pen. You stay here, George; an’ remember, don’t go to movin’ up on the game till you hear me shoot.”

“I don’t see any moose,” said George.

“In course you don’t,” said the trapper. “But they are in the woods here, an’ me and Frank will go an’ surround them. It’ll take mighty keerful steppin’, though,” he continued, turning to Frank, “for moose have got an ear like an Injun’s. Be keerful now how you walk.” So saying, the trapper shouldered his heavy rifle, and moved off through the woods, accompanied by Frank. About half a mile further on, the latter was stationed on the banks of a deep ravine; and Dick, after repeating his instructions, continued on alone.

The stalwart form of the trapper had scarcely disappeared, when Frank heard a noise in the bushes, and presently a large moose appeared, leisurely wading through the deep snow, and cropping the branches as he approached. As if by instinct, Frank’s gun was leveled; but remembering the trapper’s instructions, the weapon was lowered, and the young hunter stepped back into the bushes, and watched the motions of the animal. He was a noble fellow—very much like the one with which Frank had engaged in that desperate struggle in the woods—with antlers fully four feet in length. The animal appeared totally unconscious of danger, and, after browsing about among the bushes for a few moments, walked back into the woods again, but almost instantly reappeared, and made for the ravine at the top of his speed. At this moment, the well-known report of the trapper’s rifle echoed through the woods. It was followed by a crashing in the crust, and presently another moose appeared, and, like the former, ran toward the ravine. A short distance behind him came the trapper, holding his rifle in one hand and his huge hunting-knife in the other, and rapidly gaining on the deer, which sank through the crust into the deep snow at every step. Frank and Brave immediately joined in the pursuit, and the moose had not run far before he was overtaken and seized by the dog. Frank, remembering his first experience in moose-hunting, halted at a safe distance, and was about to “make sure work” of the game, when the trapper darted past him, exclaiming:

“Don’t shoot, youngster. That’s a young moose; an’ if you can ketch him, he’ll be worth more nor all the stuffed critters you’ve got at home.”

Here was an opportunity which, to Frank, was too good to be lost. Hastily dropping his gun, and producing a piece of rope from the pocket of his overcoat, he ran up to the game, and, after a brief struggle, succeeded in fastening it around his neck. The dog was then ordered to let go his hold, when the moose instantly sprang to his feet and started to run. Frank was thrown flat in the snow, but he clung to the rope with all his strength. After a short time the young moose, wearied with his useless efforts to escape, ceased his struggles, and his captors led, or rather pulled, him along through the woods toward the place where the game had first been started.

“Now,” said the trapper, “you’ve got a pet that is worth something. He’s jest the thing you want. You won’t have to drag your sleds home now.”

“Why not?” inquired Frank.

“Cause this yere moose can pull you four fellers further in one day than you can travel in two. I knowed a trader at Fort Laramie that had one o’ them critters, and he used to hitch him up to a sled, an’ think nothin’ o’ travelin’ sixty miles a day.”