Hunting in Many Lands 



o'clock. He walked, now out toward us, now 

 back to shore, as though about to bolt for the 

 bush, but working slowly toward the north, 

 where we afterwards found a much-used run- 

 way, leading to the marsh my brother was 

 watching, two miles away. I opened fire about 

 fifty yards off, when the moose was standing 

 in about a foot of water, looking suspiciously 

 at us. The shot was too high, but struck him 

 in the shoulder. He started in a lumberinp" 

 gallop along the shore. I fired again. This 

 turned him into the woods at an old lumber 

 road. We heard the twigs snap sharply for a 

 minute, and then a heavy crash and silence. 

 I thought we had lost him, but Chabot de- 

 clared that he was down. I sprang ashore 

 the moment the canoe grounded, and dashed 

 in on his trail, which was perfectly clear on 

 the soft moss. Looking ahead through the 

 open woods for the animal, which I thought 

 had turned, I almost fell over his prostrate 

 body. 



His head rested against a small windfall, 

 which he had tried to clear — an effort which 

 appeared to have cost him his life. Moss hung 

 from some small spruce trees close by, which 

 had been kicked up in the death struggle. 



96 



