In his rush at the horse, the moose passed close to them. Again Nat hurled the axe at the animal's side. Jonathan, snatching up a heavy stone, threw it with all his might. The horse, too, wheeling in the narrow bed of the gully, kicked spitefully, lashing out its iron-shod hoofs again and again, planting them hard on the moose's front.
For some moments this singular combat raged there. Recovering the axe and coming up behind the animal, Nat now attempted to deal a blow. The moose wheeled, however, as if struck by sudden panic, and went clear over Nat, who was thrown headlong and slid down into the water.
The moose bounded clear over him, and again went splashing through the Little Androscoggin to the other side, where it turned as before, shaking its antlers and rending the brush with them.
Nathaniel had caught hold of a bush, and thus saved himself from going fully into the swift current. Jonathan helped him get out, and the two young fellows stared at each other. The encounter had given them proof of the mad strength and energy of the moose.
"Oh, if we could only find that powder-horn somewhere!" Jonathan exclaimed.
The horse up on the bluff sent forth again its shrill neigh, to which the one beside them responded.
And just as before, the moose, with an awful bellow, came plunging through the little river and bounding up the gully.
"My soul! Here he comes again!" Jonathan fairly yelled. "Get out o' the way!"
And Nat got out of the way as quickly as possible, taking refuge behind the same rock in the side of the gully.