Cramp seized upon poor Ramrod, and though he made a gallant and
desperate struggle to reach land with the aid of his arms alone, he felt
that only by a miracle could he do so.
Moment by moment he felt himself growing weaker and less able to
withstand the chill which was striking through to his very heart.
At last the supreme moment came. He could go no farther. Brave and
collected to the last, he raised his eyes to heaven as in thought he
commended his soul to his Maker.
At that instant the sound of oars struck his ear, and the hope it
brought him gave him sufficient strength to keep up until a friendly
hand grasped him under the arm.
With his last little bit of strength he raised his hand, still grasping
the halter, and smiled triumphantly; then he lost consciousness.
The "coffin" was brought ashore afterwards, but no one had the hardihood
to navigate it. Even towing it was a trial of temper, for it kept
swinging from side to side with a heavy jerking motion with every pull
at the oars.
Ramrod, I am glad to say, lived to have many a quiet paddle in his queer
boat whenever he went a-fishing; and this, it appears, was all he
intended it for when he built it.
Thus ended this famous moose hunt, but the talk of it lasted for many a
year; and whenever a pleasure-party were out on the river enjoying a
sail by moonlight, this was the one story that was never stale, and
mention of "Ramrod's coffin" would cause a smile to appear on the face
of even the most grave.
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