THE TRUE STORY OF THE MOOSE HEAD.
For a great many years—for as long, indeed, as either Bob or Jack could remember—there had been over the great fireplace in the office of the Mountain House, as its chief decorative feature, a huge moose-head, from either side of which rose up majestic antlers, concerning which Bob had once remarked that "they'd make a bully hat-rack."
To this sage remark Bob's father had replied that he thought so too; and he added that he thought it somewhat of a pity that Bob, when he chose his pets, should choose pug-dogs and rabbits, that were of no earthly use, instead of an occasional moose, which might be trained to sit in the hall and allow people to hang their hats on his horns.
"Just to think," he said, "what a convenience a real live walking hat-rack would be! When you wanted your hat, all you would have to do would be to whistle, and up the hat-rack would trot; you'd select the hat you wished to wear, and back would go the moose again to his accustomed place between the front door and the window."
"I'm willing," Bob had answered. "You buy me the moose, daddy, and I'll be glad to make a pet of him."
But it so happened that at the moment his father had something else to think about, and as a result Bob never got the moose.
Curiously enough, up to this particular summer of which I am writing, it had never occurred to either of the boys to inquire into the story of this especial moose, who had been so greatly honored by having his head stuffed and hung up to beautify the office of the hotel. They had both of them often wondered somewhat as to how it came to lose the rear portions of its body—that from its shoulders backward—but at such times it had so happened there had never been anybody about who could be counted upon to enlighten them on the subject. Now, however, it was different. Sandboys seemed always at hand, and considering that he had never failed them when they had asked for an explanation of this, that, or the other thing, they confidently broached the subject to him one afternoon during the music hour, and, as usual, Sandboys was ready with a "true story" for their satisfaction.
"Oh, that!" he said, when Bob had put the question. "Yes, I know all about it; and why shouldn't I? Didn't my father catch him? I guess!"
The boys were not quite sure whether the guess was correct or not, but they deemed it well to suppose that it was, and Sandboys went on.