Archie led the way at a rapid pace, now and then looking over his shoulder, and exclaiming, “Hurry up, Harry.” Half an hour’s run brought them to the ridge, and their feelings were worked up to the highest pitch of excitement, when they discovered that the fox had not yet passed.
“We’re all right now,” said Archie, joyfully; “that black fox is ours.”
“Yes,” said Harry, “provided this is his runway.”
“O, don’t begin to throw cold water on our expectations,” said Archie. “It’ll be too bad if——. There they come, now; get out of sight, quick.”
As Archie spoke, a long, drawn-out bay came faintly to their ears, and the dogs appeared to be coming up the ridge. The young hunters hastily concealed themselves, and Archie had just cocked his gun, when the black fox broke from the bushes, and, as if suspicious of danger ahead, turned off down the ridge. It was a long shot, but Archie, without a moment’s hesitation, raised his gun to his shoulder and fired.
“I told you he was ours,” he shouted, as the smoke cleared away, and the black fox was seen struggling in the snow. A blow on the head with a stick stilled him, and the boys, after examining their prize, which was the finest of his species they had ever seen, started down the ridge to meet the dogs, and soon arrived at the cabin with their prize, and were delighted to find how successful their comrades had been in capturing the moose.
Frank and Archie immediately set to work to break the young moose to harness. He proved very tractable, and soon learned to draw the boys in a sled, over the ice, with all the regularity of a well-broken horse, more than compensating them for all the care they had bestowed upon him.