“Before he could put his purpose into effect, however, there was another shot from Mike. It evidently struck the animal somewhere, for he bellowed with rage as he bounded over the thickets to join battle with his other assailant.
“The Irishman had not waited to mark the result of his shot, but had plunged instantly out of sight, and betaken himself to a position well removed.
“The angry bull had no idea of his whereabouts, but thrashed around wildly, while the little Irishman chuckled in his sleeve.
“As soon as Ben once more got his gun loaded, he stuck his head up through the skronnick. He observed that in his wanderings beneath the scrub he had worked his way very nearly to the big granite bowlder before mentioned.
“He did not fire, for he was resolved not to waste his shot this time. Just as he made up his mind to try a rush for the bowlder, from the top of which he would be master of the situation, the caribou looked up, and caught sight of him again.
“The animal’s charge was so lightning-like in its rapidity that Ben could do nothing but dive once more beneath the kindly skronnick.
“As fast as he could, he worked his way toward the bowlder, but in his haste the movement of the bushes betrayed him. One of the razor-edged hoofs came down within a foot or two of his face, and he shrank back swiftly, making himself very small.
“His changed course brought him to the very brink of one of the deep pools already spoken of, and he almost fell into it. In turning aside from that obstacle, the shaking of the bushes again gave the bull a hint of his position. With a cough and a bellow the animal leaped to the spot, just missed Ben’s retiring feet, and plunged headlong into the pool.
“This seemed to Ben just his opportunity for gaining the rock. He sprang up and made a dash for it. But before he reached its foot,—and a glance told him that it was not to be scaled on that side,—the caribou had picked himself nimbly out of the water and was after him, his fury by no means dampened by the ducking.
“Grinding his teeth, Ben darted yet again beneath the scrub, but this time it was the closest shave he had had. The skronnick was thinner here, and he would hardly have succeeded in evading his antagonist for more than a minute, had not Mike come to the rescue. The Irishman rose up with a wild yell, discharged his gun right in the caribou’s face, missed with his customary facility, and dropped again into the skronnick.