THE TRAPPER 151 



Awhile, and the snow began to fall. Softly, 

 thickly, it filled the abandoned sleigh, standing 

 empty now, for the wolves had found it out already, 

 at the marge of the frozen lake, and it cloaked the 

 trees afresh until they drooped their laden branches 

 wearily. 



All was still — still as death, save for the endless 

 movement of the dense white flakes covering with 

 gentle, mystic mercy the sleeper at the door. 

 * » * * ♦ 



On the grinding, dry snow the moose, half- 

 veiled in a soft mist, followed their leader swiftly 

 as the surface of the yards would allow them, and 

 out beyond the confines of the well-trodden ways. 

 Sometimes the ice crust held up the heavy beasts, 

 and sometimes they went through chest deep, from 

 which half-submerged position they extricated 

 themselves adroitly by jumping — such prodigious 

 jumps, measuring four yards or more between the 

 hoof-marks. 



Under big timber the depth of snow was of small 

 account, and everywhere signs of the trapper from 

 whom they fled met their troubled eyes. 



In an open space between the pines small bits of 

 strychnined moose meat were cast about haphazard 



