The huge animal was perhaps a hundred yards from the canoe when Jack first sighted him and was swimming at right angles to their course.
“Make it snappy, Bob, and let’s see how near we can get to him before he reaches the shore,” Jack cried, and the two paddlers dug their blades deep into the water.
“Are they dangerous?” Rex asked.
“Not at this time of the year,” Jack told him. “But in the late fall, when they are mating, you want to give them a wide berth unless you are well armed and then you want to shoot to kill the first time.”
“I reckon so,” Rex mused. “I wouldn’t like to get tossed with those horns.”
“You wouldn’t,” Jack laughed. “In fact, quite the opposite, as the sea-sick passenger said when one asked him if he had had breakfast.”
“What would he do to you then? Do they bite?”
“Hardly. He’d trample you to death with his sharp hoofs and, believe me, they are some tramplers.”
By this time they had cut down the distance between them and the moose by nearly one half, although the big animal was ploughing his way rapidly through the water.
“I’ll say he’s some swimmer,” Rex declared. “Gee, but I wish I had my camera along. What a picture that would make.”