"Jump to one side!" shouted Dick, realizing that the enraged moose was charging them, with lowered head, and threatening horns. Both boys threw themselves back, and in this manner successfully avoided the passing danger. They knew that a wounded stag is often a peril from which even veteran hunters shrink; and it stood to reason that this enormous animal, feeling the pain of his injury, would not run away in a hurry after having made one unsuccessful charge. Both boys glanced hastily around, seeking a tree behind which to ward off an attack. Dick was fortunate enough to find one close at hand, but Roger met with his usual ill luck to start with. The moose, as though sensing which one of his enemies had given him that burning injury, took after Roger, and the boy, hearing the trampling of his hoofs as he came rushing on, became a little confused. "Run, Roger, run faster!" shrilled Dick, who began to fear for the safety of his cousin. There were surely grounds for his alarm, for, just at that moment, Roger caught his foot in some trailing vine and plunged forward. With wonderful adroitness, however, the border boy managed to regain his feet, and face the oncoming moose bull. It was too late for him to continue his flight, and there did not seem to be even time enough for the boy to scramble out of harm's way. Dick's heart burned within him with fear. He would have given everything he possessed in the wide world if just then his gun were only loaded and primed, ready for use. Roger, however, saw that there was immediate need for action, and he took a strange way of meeting the occasion. Dick, staring at the scene, saw his chum suddenly leap toward the oncoming moose bull. He actually flung himself upon that great, lowered head, falling between the towering horns, and hastened to clasp his arms about the animal's thick neck. This act plainly greatly astonished the beast, and he stood stock still for a brief interval. Dick's one fear was that the moose should set off at a lumbering pace through the woods, and bring up against some tree with such force as to break the sprawling legs of the clinging boy. He himself was trying in a confused fashion to get a charge of powder down the barrel of his gun, instinct telling him that, once he managed to reload the weapon, the game would be in his hands. Now the moose was trying to dislodge Roger by tossing up his head. Each time he made the effort Dick held his breath in suspense, for the boy's hold was precarious, and might give way at any moment. It was apparently the intention of the bull to shake him loose in this way, and, after the boy dropped back to the ground, to trample him underfoot before he could recover sufficiently to get out of the way.