wonder you felt all day as if you were working
up to something. I'll believe in presentiments in future."

The words had scarcely passed his lips, when there was the sharp bang!
bang! of a rifle not twenty yards distant. A bright sputter of fire cut
the darkness beneath the hemlocks.

The moose's blind rage threatened to be his own undoing. While he was
fighting an imaginary danger, ears and nostrils half-choked by fury,
through the calm night Herb Heal, Winchester in hand, had crept
noiselessly on, till he reached the very trees which sheltered his
friends.

Once, twice, three times the rifle snapped. The first shot missed
altogether. At the second, the moose rose upon his hind-legs, with a
sharp sound of fright and pain, quite unlike his former noises. Then he
gave a quick jump.

"Great Governor's Ghost! he's gone;" yelled Cyrus, who had swung himself
down a few feet, and was hanging by one arm, in his anxiety to see the
result of the firing. "You needn't shoot again, Herb! He's off! Let him
go!"

"I guess that second shot cut some hair from him, and drew blood too,"
answered Herb, his deep voice giving the pair a queer sensation as they
heard it right beneath. "It was too dark to see plain, but I think he
reared; and that's a sign that he was hurt, little or much. Don't drop
down for a minute, boys, till we see whether he has bolted for good."

CHAPTER XX.

TRIUMPH.

He had bolted for good, vanished into the mysterious deeps of the
primeval forest, whether hurt unto death, or merely "nipped" in a
fore-leg, as Herb inclined to think, nobody knew.

"It's too dark to see blood-marks, if there are any, so we can't trail
him to-night. If he's hit bad--but I guess he ain't--we can track him in
the morning," said the guide; as, after an interval of listening, the
rescued pair dropped down from their perches. "Did he chase you, boys?
Where on earth did you come on him?"

Talking together, their words tumbling out like a torrent let loose,
Cyrus Garst and Dol Farrar gave an account of the past two
hours--strangest hours of their lives--filling up the picture of them
bit by bit.

"Whew! whew! You did have a narrow squeak, boys, and a scarey time; but
I guess you had a lot of fun out of the old snorter," said Herb, his
rare laugh jingling out, starting the forest echoes like a clang of
bells. "You've won those antlers, Dol--won 'em like a man. Blest, but
you have! I promised 'em to the first fellow who c