180 THE MOOSE 



It is not often that the beauties of Nature cause 

 forgetfulness of the trapper's trade. A man may 

 be full of appreciation in the comfort of a trading- 

 post, with the results of his months of hard labour 

 in his hand, and may then feel like dilating on the 

 wonders of the wild ; but the average fur-gatherer, 

 hunting alone, physically fatigued and lonely beyond 

 powers of telling, cares little for the grandeur of the 

 grandest scene. 



Yet, perhaps, because he was bred in one of the 

 gardens of the earth, this trapper found his sense of 

 beauty stronger than his weariness. 



He paused a moment and drank it in. 



Everywhere the radiant brightness of the snow 

 was spangled with the rosy glow, called by the 

 Swiss " Alpine Gluehn," exquisite blazing shades, 

 luminous and prismatic, changing constantly. 

 Afar was the unending vista of the everlasting 

 snowfields, with frozen Niagaras descending to the 

 valleys, beryl-like, and glinting rose-coloured, too. 



Just overhead eight bald-headed eagles were 

 a-wing, flying low in the wide undulating sweeps 

 that tell so eloquently of the eternal quest. 



Between the scanty pines the moose sped, a 

 beautiful picture of purposeful action, every nerve 



