The Redwood gazette. [volume] (Redwood Falls, Minn.) 1873-1940, 1898-12-14

HIS FINGER WAS SHAKING ON THE TRIGGER
OF HIS WINCHESTER.
broken country. The tracks skirted
frozen lake, and then went up a high
rocky plateau. Donald knew these high
ridges were the haunts of moose in
winter.
Late in the afternoon nothing had
been seen. The Indians picked camp
and set to work getting their backwoods
Christmas dinner. Donald, however,
could not resist the fascination of fresh
moose tracks. He took his Winchester
and swung up over the hills for recon-
hotter After about half an hours
journey through second growth white
birch he came to sudden stop and
dropped noiselessly behind fallen pine.
A few winters in Maine had given him
all the true hunters alertness of nerve.
Where the underbrush fringed away
into a country Of broken rock he had
caught sight Of a calf moose. In the
gathering dusk he could see it indis.
tinctly moving slowly and cautiously
out of the shadow of the scrub bush.
He had plenty Of time. SO he rested his
Winchester on the pine log, taking
etudious, deliberate and accurate aim.
At that moment the moving shadow
turned sideways Donald's rifle fell
from his hand, and be took deep
breath. His rife had been trained on a
girl in blanket suit, and he could see
her shouldered rifle pointing down the
valley. It was Peggy.
The consciousness of this had scarce
~ swept through his mind when he
saw puff Of smoke. Then came a re-
port, and another, and another. A short
distance up the valley he saw COW
moose fall. Then he saw something
that sent the blood tingling through his
veins. Out of the underbrush be beheld
huge bull come laundering up the
slope straight for the bewildered girl in
the blanket suit AS he came tearing
up the snow in his fight the girl in the
blanket suit deliberately dropped on
one knee, took aim and fred at the
broad breast bearing down on her, not
more than 60 feet away.
Donald groaned. He saw that the
plucky shot went wide-miles wide.
His own finger was shaking on the trig-
ger Of his Winchester, for when her
life depended upon shot the response
bility naturally unnerved him. -
All he remembered was that he stop
ped firing when his magazine was emp
ty, although the first ball had torn
through the animals huge lungs A
moment later he had q confused picture
Of moose plunging head down into q
snowbank stone dead and girl sitting
In the snow, quietly crying. It was the
first time he had ever seen Peggy cry.
When she saw who it was, she stop
ped.
"Don-Donald Cotton. how did you
come here?''
"Why." said Donald, lifting her up
out Of the snow and brushing the fakes
from her wet cheeks, II just came up
to tell you how dangerous moose shoot
ing really isl
''Stop, Don, stop, or I'll cry again"
"And also to ask you for the nine
teenth time if You will marry me. !"
''It's getting dreadfully dark, Don,
dear" said Peggy ten minutes later.
'and it's four miles to camp"
"Who cares?" said Don.
Three Indian guides never knew why
they were given three whole bottles Of
Kentucky Bourbon on certain Christ
mas night, and it isn't every one who
knows just how Mrs. Donald Reed Cot
| ton secured the nair of beautifully chan
neled moose horns which hang ove her
library door.