“I could eat a skunk and like it,” groaned Sandy. “By the way, before we start don’t you think we’d better divide that bacon?”
With a queer, inexplicable feeling, Dick produced the last morsels of food from their packs and divided them carefully. If he gave Sandy a little more than an equal portion, no one, with the possible exception of a tiny sparrow perched on a branch overhead, could have noticed it. They ate in silence, and in silence they arose immediately after their inadequate meal and started off for the hunt.
“I don’t think I’ll ever see anything,” Dick muttered to himself, “or if I do the chances are that the pesky thing will get away. Hang it all, why did Govereau, or whoever it was, have to find that cache?”
Dick’s mood brightened a few minutes later as he came up through the autumn sunshine to the foot of a slope, thickly covered with stunted pine. It looked like a very good hiding place for ptarmigan, or possibly even deer. He unslung his rifle and went forward as cautiously as he could, one finger hovering close to the trigger of his gun.
But, after an hour’s slow progress, Dick had begun to lose hope. He had seen nothing. Apparently the forest was as devoid of all animal life as a city street. Except for a hawk, circling lazily about high overhead, there was neither bird nor beast anywhere in that lonely stretch of wilderness.
Mopping his perspiring brow, the young hunter finally sat down for a moment’s rest, before continuing his course to the top of a high ridge.
Then an abrupt, totally unexpected crackling in the heavy Saskatoon thicket ahead caused him to start—almost in wonderment. His breath came quickly. He half rose, then fearing, that even his slightest sound might spoil everything, he sank down again, his left hand nursing the cold, blue barrel of his Ross rifle.
More crackling, a sudden parting of the bushes, and Dick’s heart almost stood still. A large bull moose, majestic in his stature, crashed into view.
By this time Dick was fairly trembling with excitement. Twice he endeavored to raise his rifle to his shoulder. His arm shook so much that he knew it would be worse than useless to attempt a shot while his nerves were in such a condition.