of
the dry branches, and had turned to the fire, when they both heard a
strange sound, like a deep grunt, not far away, followed by sharp
crashes of the brush down in the basin.

"What's that?" Nathaniel exclaimed. "It's a bear I guess," and he
snatched up the empty gun to reload it. Jonathan, too, threw down his
armful of boughs and turned back to get the axe.

Before they could do either, however, the strange grunts and crashes
came nearer, and a moment later a pair of broad antlers and a huge
black head appeared, coming up from the gorge.

At sight of the snorting beast, Jonathan turned suddenly. "It's a
moose, Nat!" he cried. "A big bull moose! Shoot him! Shoot him!"

Nat was making frantic efforts, but the gun was not reloaded.
Recharging an old "Queen's arm" was a work of time.

Fortunately for the boys, the attention of the moose was full fixed on
the horses. With another furious snort, it gained the top of the bank
and bounded toward where they stood hitched, chewing their hay.

The tired white horses looked up suddenly from their hay, and
perceiving this black apparition of the forest, snorted and tugged at
their halters.

With a frightful bellow, half squeal, half roar, the moose rose twelve
feet tall on his hind legs, and rushed at the one hitched nearest. The
horse broke its halter, ran headlong against its mate, recoiled,
bumped into a tree trunk, and then--the trees standing thick in front
of it--backed over the bank and went out of sight down the bluff, the
moose bounding after it, still bellowing hoarsely.

The other horse had also broken its halter and ran off, while the two
boys stood amazed and alarmed at this tremendous exhibition of animal
ferocity.

"Nat! Nat! He will kill that horse!" Jonathan exclaimed, and they both
ran to look over the bank. Horse and moose were now down near the
water, where the river ran deep and swift under the steep bank, the
horse trying vainly to escape through the tangled alder brush, the
moose savagely pursuing.

The sight roused the boys to save their horse. Axe in hand, Jonathan
ran and slid down the bluff side, catching hold of trees and bushes as
he did so, to keep from going quite into the river. Nat followed him,
with the gun which he had hastily primed. Both horse and moose were
now thrashing amidst the alder clumps.

"Shoot him, shoot him!" Jonathan shouted. "Why don't you fire? Oh, let
me have that gun!"

It is not as easy as an onlooker often