A CURIOUS EXPERIENCE 345 



right of our trail. It was eating the streamers 

 of gray-green moss which hung from the dead 

 lower branches of the spruces. It was a year- 

 ling bull. At first I could merely make out a 

 small patch of its flank between two tree trunks, 

 and I missed it — fortunately, for, if wounded, 

 it would probably have escaped. At the re- 

 port, instead of running, the foolish young bull 

 shifted his position to look at us ; and with the 

 next shot I killed him. While Arthur dressed 

 him Odilon returned to camp and brought out 

 a couple of men. We took a shoulder with us 

 for our provision and sent the rest back to 

 camp. Hour after hour we went forward. We 

 paddled across the lakes. Between them the 

 trails sometimes led up to and down from high 

 divides; at other times they followed the 

 courses of rapid brooks which brawled over 

 smooth stones under the swaying, bending 

 branches of the alders. Off the trail fallen 

 logs and bowlders covered the ground, and the 

 moss covered everything ankle-deep or knee- 

 deep. 



Early in the afternoon we reached the cabin. 

 The lake, like most of the lakes thereabouts, 

 was surrounded by low, steep mountains, 

 shrouded in unbroken forest. The light-green 

 domes of the birches rose among the sombre 



