ould have made no
progress. By their aid he was able to push forward at a fair rate of
speed, which he determined to maintain, on as straight a line as
possible, until within half an hour of sunset. Then he would bend to the
left until he reached the river, which he was certain could not be very
far away, and which he could follow back to camp even in the dark.

So for several hours he plodded sturdily forward, keeping a sharp
lookout for any trail of man or beast, and making as little noise as
possible in the hope of surprising something worthy of a shot. All at
once the surprise came from the other side; for, with a rush from behind
a clump of young hemlocks, a huge brown animal, with great palmated
horns, crossed his path only a few rods ahead, and dashed away at right
angles, flinging the snow to both sides like a rotary railroad plough.
Rapid as were his movements, Phil got in one flying shot just as he
disappeared.

"It was a moose!" thought the excited lad; "biggest one I ever saw. And
I hit him!" he cried aloud, a minute later, as he examined the broad
trail left by the flying beast. "Hit him hard, too," he added, as,
noting blood stains on the snow, and forgetful of everything else, he
set forth in hot pursuit of his stricken game. "He can't hold that pace
long, wounded, and through snow as deep as this," he reflected, "and I
shouldn't be surprised if I found him at bay inside of a mile. Oh, if I
can only get him, it will settle the food question for the rest of the
trip!"

So, with high hopes, and with all his hunting instincts fully aroused,
Phil followed that blood-stained trail, not only for one mile, but for
several more, though without catching another glimpse of the flying
moose. Nor could he discover any sign of slackened speed or diminished
strength on the part of his huge quarry. The strides were just as long
as at first, and the snow was flung just as far on either side of the
trail. But for the crimson stains betokening a steady loss of blood Phil
would long since have given up the chase. They encouraged him to keep
on. "For surely," he said to himself, "no animal, not even a moose can
stand a drain like that forever."

All at once he stopped short and gazed about him with startled glances.
The trail was growing dim; stealthy shadows were creeping through the
forest. The day was spent and night was at hand. "Now I _am_ in for it?"
he cried, bitterly. "Here I am miles from camp without an idea of