To stand there and gather the small dog in her arms would have been a gallant but fatal gesture. She would have been torn in pieces.
She did not pause but fled down the way she had come. Realizing that the moose was much faster than herself, she began dodging to the right here and the left there. The moose, she knew, had poor eyesight. She was putting low-growing spruce trees between herself and her pursuer. This gave her added time. Twice the moose, coming head on into the sturdy limbs of a tree, was obliged to back away before continuing the chase.
Plumdum had dodged off into the brush. Mike and Tony, hearing the roar of the moose had climbed trees. It was Florence and the moose for it. Or was it?
She had gained considerable distance, had raced past the spot she had left without seeing the boys in the trees and was hoping to elude her pursuer when catastrophy befell her. Her boot caught in a vine and sent her sprawling. Worst of all, she fell on a half rotten stump which knocked the breath out of her. In agony she tried to rise. It was impossible.
Tony was slim, agile as a cat, a typical Italian. His dark eyes had taken it all in. His trigger-like mind had formed a plan. The moose would pass beneath his tree. And then—
Something hit the moose squarely in the back. Something seized his antlers in a grip of steel. Thrown into sudden panic, he forgot Florence to go bolting down the slope toward the swamp where the ground was on fire.
Neither Mike nor Florence saw this last bit of wildwoods drama. They were astonished when Tony did not at once answer their call. But here was Plumdum whimpering at their feet. And there, safely tied to his collar was a precious message.
CHAPTER XVI
WHO RIDES A MOOSE
The small hydroplane was back at the dock. The captain had said, “We have done what we could. We can only hope for the best.” A picture of woe, Jeanne sat on the narrow dock. In an effort to save a good pal she had sacrificed her beloved Plumdum. She did not regret the sacrifice if only it saved her friend. But would it?
At times she felt an all but overpowering desire to dash away over the trail in the vain hope of passing the fiery barrier. Twice she rose to carry out the mad plan. Twice she resumed her seat on the dock.