I gave a gulp; he went on:
“We’ve been listening to that moose an hour—he walked in from away up the mountain—we’ve heard him crack all the way—he was just in sight around the turn when I heard you shoot and saw him fall. I had my gun cocked and was waiting till he got a few yards nearer.”
With that Zoëtique could no longer control himself, but burst in with voluble, broken-hearted indignation. “C’est b’en malheur!” he moaned, gurgling like an angry dove. “M’sieur had well the intention to shoot straight—he would not have missed this time—M’sieur. M’sieur had examined and practised the movement of the carabine constantly—he now knows it comme il faut. Also I remarked the arm of M’sieur, it had the steadiness of a rock—I say it as at Mass—it was, in truth, the moose of M’sieur. He would have gained great credit—also me his guide. So that it was a hard thing to have that moose torn from us at the point itself of gaining. C’est b’en malheur!”
Now here’s the rest of the map to show how it was, and how we were both holding on that moose around a corner from each other. That beast’s last day had come all right, but I got the first crack at the trumpet of doom. Here’s the map:
When the business had filtered into my intellect I whirled on Josef.
“You knew where we were? You knew this was M’sieur Shackleton’s hunting-ground? You brought me here to get that moose?” I flung at the fellow in nervous French, never stopping for tenses.
Josef shrugged his shoulders just a touch. “Sass peut” (Ça se peut) he murmured irresponsibly—which is Canadian for “It may be.”
I could have choked him. To make me play a trick like that on poor old Shacky! And with that Shacky spoke up like the white man he is.
“I guess we’re both stung, Bob,” and he banged me on the back. “But it’s a thousand times better you should get it. I’d probably have missed again. It’s the reward of virtue; you gave me your chance. Only I did want to redeem myself. I really was steady, and I’d been fussing with the gun till I knew it by heart. I was going to do it right or bust—you’ll give me credit for not being two fools, won’t you, Bob? But it’s the reward of virtue—that’s straight.”