As luck would have it his course took him through the very same neck of the woods where on the previous day he had found Mazie, only now he had gone half a mile and more beyond that spot.
All at once as Phil carefully pushed through a screen of bushes he heard a scrambling sound. Some animal jumped to its feet, and Phil, as he took note of the dun color, the immense size, the mule-like ears, the square muzzle and the two-thirds grown horns knew that he was face to face with the king of the Adirondack woods—a bull moose!
CHAPTER XII
WHEN TWO PLAYED THE GAME
The moose looked at Phil, and Phil stared at the moose. Both of them seemed to be equally surprised at the unexpected meeting.
Apparently Phil was the first to recover, for the sharp little "click" of his camera shutter acting, after he had quickly drawn a head on the bulky animal, told that he was true to his instinct as a Nature photographer.
It may be that even that little snapping sound angered the moose; or possibly he was just in a mood for trouble. The rutting season was well over by this time of year, and his horns had grown fairly stout, so that they could be trusted to do good service in battle.
Phil never knew. In fact he had no opportunity to make inquiries, or conduct any sort of an investigation. All he became aware of suddenly was that the bull moose had lowered his head, and started toward him at a full gallop.