"He sees us, but he doesn't admire us.

He hates us, and he isn't afraid of us." The three moved softly and discreetly into a place where both trees and bushes were so dense that the moose could not get at them.
"What troubles him ?" asked Robert.
"I don't know," said the hunter.

"He may be suffering yet from a wound by an Indian arrow, or he may have a spell of some kind.

We can be certain only that he's raging mad, every inch of him.

Look at those great sharp hoofs of his, Robert.