When his horse had ceased to groan, Douglas turned him toward the dark shadow of the forest.  The Moose reared and turned, falling heavily.  Doug was out of the saddle when it cracked against the gravel and in it when the trembling horse rolled to his feet.  Doug brought the knotted reins smartly across the animal’s reeking flanks.

The Moose bolted.  Doug laughed and swore and for a time made no effort to guide his mount.  The Moose leaped fallen trunks and low bushes.  He jumped black abysses.  He thrashed into trees and rocks.  But he could not dislodge the figure that clung to his back with knee and spur.  Douglas did not know how long this mad fight lasted, but he was beginning to be exhausted, himself, when the Moose stopped on the edge of a black drop.  The horse was shaking and groaning.

“Now listen here, you Moose,” said Douglas.  “If you expect to be friends with me, you’ve got to begin to show some interest in me.  I sure do admire your speed and your nerve.  You’re a better horse than Buster, and I don’t want to break you more than I have to.  But how about showing interest in me?  I’m here to stay, you know, so you might as well begin to put me in your calculations.  Now, just to show you’re a changed horse, suppose you push up here to the right.  I think there’s a clear space there where I can see the stars and locate ourselves.”

The Moose turned slowly under the rein, and carried Doug cleverly into an open park.  Here Doug studied the brilliant heavens.

“We’ll just move south, old Moose,” he announced, “climbing uphill all the time, till we run into something.”

The Moose worked steadily enough now, but it seemed a long time to Douglas before he saw the faint glare of a fire through the trees.  Charleton and Scott looked up grinning as he rode into the circle of light.  Wide bare patches showed on Doug’s chaps.  One sleeve of his flannel shirt was hanging by a thread.  His face was bleeding from many scratches, but he grinned amicably as he slid wearily from the saddle.

“Hello, Doug!  Is your horse broke yet?” asked Charleton.

“Some,” replied Douglas.

“We thought we heard you a while back!” said Scott.  “Sounded as if a grizzly had been bitten by a hydrophobia skunk.”

“He ain’t as nervous as he was,” grinned Douglas.  “Anything to drink?”

Charleton indicated the coffee-pot and said, “It’s only a short time to dawn.  Better get what sleep you can!”

Douglas nodded, drank a tin cup of coffee, and then unsaddled the Moose.  Scott, rolled in his blanket, watched him with a twisted grin.

“Some horse to take on a trip like this,” he said.  “A half-broke mule couldn’t be worse.  Funny if Doug don’t gum the whole game for us, Charleton.”

“You go to hell, Scott!” grunted Douglas.

Scott sat up with a jerk.  Charleton spoke sharply.  “No scrapping!  You two get to sleep!”