on, Basil remained
behind the tree, "dodging" round as the moose manoeuvred, and taking care
always to have the animal on the opposite side. To have got into a safer
situation he would have climbed the tree; but it happened to be a
poplar, without a branch for many feet from the ground, and of too great
a girth to be "embraced." He could do nothing, therefore, but remain
upon the ground, and keep the tree-trunk between himself and the bull.

For nearly an hour this lasted, the moose now remaining at rest for a
few minutes, and then making fresh onsets that seemed to abate nothing
in their fury. His rage appeared to be implacable, and his vengeance as
tenacious as that of a tiger or any other beast of prey. The wound which
the hunter had given him was no doubt painful, and kept his resentment
from cooling. Unfortunately, it was not a mortal wound, as Basil had
every opportunity of seeing. The bullet had hit the fore-shoulder; but,
after tearing along the skin, had glanced off without injuring the bone.
It had only enraged the bull, without crippling him in the least degree.

Basil began to dread the result. He was becoming faint with fatigue as
well as hunger. When would he be relieved? When would the fierce brute
feel inclined to leave him? These were questions which the hunter put to
himself repeatedly, without being able to divine an answer. He had heard
of hunters being killed by wounded moose. He had heard that these
creatures will remain for days watching a person whom they may have
"treed." He could not stand it for days. He would drop down with
fatigue, and then the bull would gore and trample him at pleasure. Would
they be able to trace him from the camp? They would not think of that
before nightfall. They would not think of him as "lost" before that
time; and then they could not follow his trail in the darkness, nor even
in the light--for the ground was hard as a rock, and he had made no
footmarks. Marengo might trace him. The dog had been left at the camp,
as Basil preferred "still-hunting" without him. But in his present
situation the hunter's apprehensions were stronger than his hopes. Even
Marengo might be baffled in lifting the scent.

The trail was an exceedingly devious one, for Basil had meandered round
the sides of the hill in search of game. Deer or other animals might
have since crossed it, which might mislead the hound. It would be cold
at night, and much colder next morning. There were many chanc