Sometimes strange things happen in cases like this. The moose must have put an additional amount of energy into one of his tosses, for Dick suddenly saw Roger's form rising several yards in the air, and crash amidst the leaves of the tree under which this performance was taking place. The moose waited for the fall of his enemy in order to use those cruel hoofs of his in the final attack. But, remarkable to say, Roger did not come down, and Dick suddenly realized that his nimble chum had taken advantage of his lofty flight to lay hold of the branches of the tree, and to cling there as best he could. Dick felt like giving vent to a shout when he realized that, so far as Roger was concerned, the danger could be considered over. He was now reaching for a patched bullet, and hoped with his ramrod to push it quickly home on the powder, when he would be ready, all but the priming, to make good use of his rifle. Roger saw what was going on so close by, and commenced kicking with his feet, and letting out a few derisive shouts, aimed at the waiting moose below. He intended to hold the attention of the bulky animal so Dick could have all the time he needed to get the gun loaded. The plan worked splendidly, for the stupid animal below kept steady vigil under the limb where all that thrashing was going on. He snorted with rage, and pawed the earth with one of his hoofs, as if giving an earnest example of what he meant to do when the strange enemy dropped to the ground. There was nothing to hinder Dick from completing his loading, and, as he shook the priming powder into the pan and prepared to fire, he felt sorry only for one thing. This was the fact that Roger could not be the one to bring about the death of the kingly moose, since his heart seemed to have been so set on accomplishing such a valorous deed. It was more because he must save the life of his chum than through a desire for the death of the monster moose that caused Dick finally to pull trigger, after he had found a chance to aim back of the animal's foreleg. The shot was instantly fatal, for those long-barreled rifles of pioneer days were capable of sending a bullet with tremendous force. The big beast fell with a crash, and immediately afterwards a loud hurrah from Roger announced that he gloried in the successful outcome of their adventure. It was easy enough for the nimble boy to drop from his perch. He limped a little, and had a few minor bruises to show for his close contact with those horns of the bull moose. On the whole, however, Roger considered that he had been very lucky. Dick told him that he felt the same, as they stood beside the fallen monarch of the forest, and noted his powerful frame and muscles. It was impossible to think of taking those towering horns back with them, since they would have no way of carrying the trophy save on one of their horses; and that was utterly out of the question.