“That’s the way with moose a’most always. Their courage ain’t that o’ flesh-eating animals. It’s only a spurt; though it’s a pretty big spurt sometimes, as you boys know now. It’ll fail ’em in a minute, when you least expect it. And, you see, that one last night didn’t know where his wound came from. I guess he thought he was struck by lightning or a thunder-ball, so he skipped. Talking of thunder-balls, boys,” wound up Herb, “I shouldn’t be surprised if the old Mountain Spirit, who lives up a-top there, gave us a rattling welcome with his thunders to-day. The air is awful heavy for this time of year. Perhaps we’d better give up the trailing after all.”