. The short,
snow-darkened afternoon had not much longer to last. Bill began to be
discouraged; he knew that for the girl's sake he must leave his watch.
He waited a few minutes more.

Then the girl felt his hand on her arm. "Be still," he whispered.
"Here he comes."

They were both staring in the same directions, but at first Virginia
could not see the game. Her eyes were not yet trained to these wintry
forests. It was a strange fact, however, that the announcement was like
a hot stimulant in her blood. The sense of cold and fatigue left her in
an instant. And soon she made out a black form on the far side of the
lake.

"He's coming toward us," the man whispered.

Although she had never seen such an animal before, at once she
recognized its kind. The spreading horns, the great frame, the long,
grotesque nose belonged only to the moose,--the greatest of American
wild animals. Her blood began to race through her veins.

The animal was still out of range, but the distance between them rapidly
shortened. He was following the lake shore, tossing his horns in
arrogance. Once he paused and gazed a long time straight toward them,
legs braced and head lifted; but evidently reassured he ventured on.
Now he was within three hundred yards.

"Why don't you shoot?" the girl whispered.

"I'm afraid to trust this old gun at that range. I could get him with
my thirty-five. Now don't make a motion--or a sound."

Now the creature was near enough so that she could receive some idea of
his size and power. She knew something of the quagmires such as lay on
the lake shore. She had passed some of them on the journey. But the
bull moose took them with an ease and a composure that was thrilling to
see. Where a strong horse would have floundered at the first step, he
stretched out his hind quarters, and, striking with his long, powerful
front legs, pulled through. Then she was aware that Bill was aiming.

At the roar of the rifle she cried out in excitement. The old bull had
traversed the marches for the last time: he had fought the last fight
with his fellow bulls in the rutting season. He rocked down easily, and
Bill's racing fingers ejected the shell and threw another into the
barrel, ready to fire again if need be. But no second bullet was
required. The man's aim had been straight and true, and the bullet had
pierced his heart.

The two of them danced and shouted in the snow. And Virginia did not
stop to t