Rancho Del Muerto, and Other Stories of Adventure: by Various Authors, from "Outing"King, Charles
General
Rancho Del Muerto, and Other Stories of Adventure: by Various Authors, from "Outing"
King, Charles
Adventure stories; Fiction; Hunting stories; Short stories
And this was the kind of man that planned a trip for a party of four
after the lordly moose. Moeran had, until that year, never seen a wild
moose free in his own forest domain, and needless to say he was
keenly anxious to pay his respects to the great king of the Canadian
wilderness. He had been in the moose country many times while fishing
or shooting in the provinces of New Brunswick, Quebec, Ontario and
Manitoba; he had seen the slots of the huge deer about pool and stream,
on beaver meadow and brule; he had spent more than one September night
“calling,” with a crafty Indian to simulate the plaintive appeals of
a love-lorn cow; he had heard the great bulls answer from the distant
hills--had heard even the low, grunting inquiry a bull moose generally
makes ere emerging from the last few yards of shadowy cover, and
revealing himself in all his mighty strength and pride in the moonlit
open. More than once he had lain quivering with excitement and hardly
daring to breathe, close-hidden in a little clump of scrub, about which
stretched full forty yards of level grass on every side--lain so for an
hour with every nerve strained to the ready, with ears striving to catch
the faintest sound on the stillness of the night, and with eyes sweeping
warily over the expanse of moonlit grass and striving vainly to pierce
the black borders of forest, somewhere behind which his royal quarry was
hidden. Upon such occasions he had lain and listened and watched until
he fancied he could see the moose standing silently alert among the
saplings, with ears shifting to and fro and with keen nose searching the
air ceaselessly for trace of his mortal enemy. The occasional distant
rattle of broad antlers against the trees as the big brute shook himself
or plunged about in lusty strength had sounded on his ears, followed
by the faint sounds of cautiously advancing footsteps seemingly bent
straight toward the ambush. Then would follow a long agonizing pause,
and then a snap of a twig or a faint rustling told that the crafty bull
was stealing in a circle through the cover around the open space before
venturing upon such dangerous ground.
[Illustration: 0108]
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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