228 THE MOOSE 



birch saplings, a bull moose, more wonderful in size 

 and shapeliness than any other she had ever seen, 

 passed down the aisles of the forest to the right of 

 the battling warriors. The noise of their clashing 

 horns brought the wanderer to a stand. 



The cow looked at him, feeling the wind with 

 sensitive, dilating nostrils. An old moose has a 

 peculiarly unmistakable smell, as indeed have all 

 animals. 



Had he been able to catch a glimpse of himself 

 outlined against the drift-snow clinging to the boles 

 of the mighty trees, in the pride of his bulk and 

 height, he would have understood the powerful 

 claim he must make on any moose cow, so that 

 allegiance to another bull must straightway falter. 



From the end of his nose to the tip of his stubby 

 tail he measured a fraction over seven and a half 

 feet ; his height at the shoulder topped seven feet, 

 and his antlered weight scaled somewhere about 

 1,600 pounds. He had assumed the dark, thick, 

 autumn coat of all old bulls, preparatory to changing 

 into his winter pelage of grey, with its light brown 

 long hairs. 



Calling softly, the cow trotted towards the 

 splendid apparition, and though her previous 



