A Canadian Moose Hunt 



So back we went to camp, amply repaid by 

 the events of two hours for weeks of hard- 

 ship and exposure. Just at daylight the next 

 morning, as we were leaving camp, prepared 

 to take and keep the trail of that bull if it 

 led to Hudson Bay, my brother appeared with 

 Jocko. He had had no breakfast, and had 

 come a long distance through a frightful bush 

 in order to be in at the death, as he had heard 

 the firing, and shrewdly suspected that in the 

 dusk a wounded moose was the result. 



" From the tracks at my lake," said he, as 

 he strode up to the fire, "there are two bull 

 moose around here — a large and a small one ; 

 which did you get?" 



" Both," replied Chabot. 



We took the trail at the water's edge, and 

 found it smeared with blood. The bull could 

 not have gone far. A short walk brought us 

 to the windfall where we had turned back the 

 night before, and which had seemed so deep 

 in the woods. 



A hundred yards beyond it lay the bull on 

 his right side. The second shot had struck 

 him in the center of the left ham and ranged 

 through him. The meat was spoiled, as was 

 the hide — that is, the hair came out so badly 



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