A VERY OLD BULL. 183 



The thought passed through my mind that, 

 if it were suddenly to jump np and dash off 

 through the bushes, I should only get a shot 

 into its hindquarters, which might not be fatal, 

 so raising my rifle slowly I put a bullet into 

 the back of its neck, aiming to reach the 

 base of the skull at its junction with the 

 vertebrae. 



The great head dropped to the shot, the 

 mighty carcase rolled on its side, one long hind 

 leg was stretched out with a shiver, and the 

 spirit of this fine old bull passed swiftly and 

 painlessly into the unknown, there to be pur- 

 sued afresh, perhaps, by the ghosts of Indian 

 braves in their heavenly hunting grounds. 



This moose seemed to be a very old bull 

 with widespread horns, measuring fifty-eight 

 and a half inches across the palms. There 

 were, however, only eleven points on each horn. 

 The velvet was still hanging in great pieces on 

 the antlers, but they were quite hard and 

 almost as white as old perished horns. 



This moose had recently been fighting, as it 

 had several fresh woimds on the front of its 



