“Acting upon a natural instinct, he scurried from side to side to throw his pursuer off the track.
“The caribou sprang furiously upon the bushes where Ben had disappeared, and trampled them with his knife-like front hoofs. Then he turned on Mike, who had been anxiously waiting for him to keep still and give him a fair shot.
“In desperation Mike fired, just grazing the animal’s flank, and then he darted, like a rabbit, under the skronnick bushes.
“When those deadly forehoofs came down on the place where he had vanished, the little Irishman was not there. Nimbly and noiselessly he put all the distance he could between himself and the spot where he heard his enemy tearing at the skronnick.
“Finding himself unpursued, Ben made haste to reload his gun.
“At the sound of Mike’s shot he thrust his head out of his hiding-place in time to see his comrade go under cover. Very deliberately Ben rammed the bullet home and put on the cap. Then, standing up to his full height, and taking aim at the caribou’s hind-quarters, which were towards him, he shouted, ‘Load up, Mike!’ and fired again.
“Unfortunately for the accuracy of Ben’s aim, the caribou had wheeled sharp round at the sound of his voice, and charged without an instant’s delay; so again the shot went wide. And again, with alacrity that did credit to his bulk, Ben scuttled under the skronnick.
“But this time the indignant bull, furious at being thus outwitted, bounded into the bush, and began thrusting about at random with horns and hoofs.
“More than once Ben narrowly escaped those terrible weapons, and his trepidation began to be mingled with fierce wrath at the idea of being ‘hustled ’round’ this way by a ‘critter.’
“He could get no chance to load up again, and he was on the point of stepping forth and attacking the animal with the butt of his gun. He felt as if he was battened under hatches in a sinking ship.