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Updated: June 7, 2025
I guess you'll be wanting a drink of hot coffee, after roosting in them trees for so long." Garst led the way to the spring. Its pretty hum sounded like an angel's whisper through the night, after the tumult of the past scene. Herb fumbled in his leather wallet, brought out a match and a small piece of birch-bark, and kindled a light.
The other is sort o' pitiful, and says, 'Mebbe 'twasn't out-an'-out his fault. Which of them two'll get the best of it, if ever I'm face to face with Cross-eyed Chris, I dunno." Cyrus Garst rose suddenly. He kicked the camp-fire to make a blaze, then looked the woodsman fair in the eyes. "I know, Herb," he said; "the spirit of mercy will conquer." "Glad you think so!" answered Herb.
How perfectly glorious!" boomed Neal and Dol together. "It's our camp, sure enough," answered Garst, with no less enthusiasm. "At least the first cabin will be ours. I don't know whether there are any hunters in the other one just now."
Small wonder, then, that when they heard Cyrus Garst tell of his camping excursions, of his jolly times, long tramps, and hairbreadth escapes, their hearts swelled with a tremendous longing to accompany him on the trip into northern Maine which he was then projecting for the following October.
Meanwhile, Cyrus and Dol had begun to discuss the size of the escaped coon. "I should think it measured about two feet from the tip of its nose to the beginning of the tail, and that would add ten or eleven inches. Probably it weighed over thirty pounds," said the experienced Garst. "A fine tail it had too!" answered Dol; "all ringed with black and buff not black and white as the books say.
You're a sure shot, an' you can creep within a hundred yards of 'em without being scented. Try it, man!" The guide's flashing eyes and quick signs conveyed half his meaning; his excited sentences were so low that Garst only caught fag-ends of them. But they were emphasized unexpectedly by a faint bleating sound rising from the valley, the helpless bleat of a buffeted creature.
"But you know you wouldn't fire on him, Cy, unless he came near making mince-meat of us. If he should charge, we could make a dash for the nearest trees. Let's risk it if we run across any tracks!" "And in the meantime, Herb will be wondering where we are, vowing vengeance on us, and waiting for the kettle while we're waiting for the moose," argued Garst. "It won't do, Chick.
The three looked up at their guide, on whose weather-tanned face the fire shed wavering lights, in lazy expectation. "Now, Herb," said Garst, "we want to think of nothing but moose for the remainder of this trip; so go ahead, and give us some moose-talk to-night. Begin at the beginning, as the children say, and tell us everything you know about the animal."
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!
Only a dozen miles of tolerably easy travelling now separated Garst and his English comrades from the camp on Millinokett Lake, where they were to meet the redoubtable Herb Heal.
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