Hunting in Many Lands 



This was a fair sample of our hunting day, 

 but did not equal the following one. It rained 

 all that night, and the tent, not having been 

 properly stretched, leaked. We were awakened 

 by the crackling of a fire the guides had made. 

 It was direct disobedience of orders, and con- 

 trary to the most elementary rules of moose 

 hunting; but, cold and faint for want of food, 

 we yielded to the innate perversity of the In- 

 dian. We made a wild-eyed, starved group, 

 warming our fingers around the little blaze as 

 it snapped up through the still, wet morning 

 air. The teapot was just beginning to boil, 

 the pork was just sizzling, when we sprang to 

 our feet. A crash of antlers, as though two 

 bulls were fighting, sounded not a hundred 

 yards away. The noise was perfectly clear, 

 having a metallic ring to it, and was caused 

 by moose horns striking a hard substance. 



Again. Without a word, we seized our rifles, 

 and left our breakfast and fire, and I never 

 saw that spot afterward. Again came the 

 sound, still distinct, but further off, this time 

 like a birch canoe dragged through alders. 

 The animal had been on the runway which 

 crossed at the foot of the hill we were camped 

 on when he scented the fresh-lit fire. Well, to 



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