212 The Wilderness Hunter. 



which happened to stand handily, and from it stretched 

 and pegged out a piece of canvas, which we were using as 

 a shelter tent. Beneath this we spread our bedding, laying 

 under it the canvas sheets in which it had been wrapped. 

 There was still bread left over from yesterday's baking, 

 and in a few moments the kettle was boiling and the frying- 

 pan sizzling, while one of us skinned and cut into suitable 

 pieces two grouse we had knocked over on our march. 

 For fear of friorhteninor the moose we built but a small 

 fire, and went to bed soon after supper, being both tired 

 and cold. Fortunately, what little breeze there was blew 

 up the valley. 



At dawn I was awake, and crawled out of my buffalo 

 bag, shivering and yawning. My companion still slum- 

 bered heavily. White frost covered whatever had been 

 left outside. The cold was sharp, and I hurriedly 

 slipped a pair of stout moccasins on my feet, drew on my 

 gloves and cap, and started through the ghostly woods for 

 the meadow where we had seen the moose sign. The tufts 

 of grass were stiff with frost ; black ice skimmed the edges 

 and quiet places of the little brook. 



I walked slowly, it being difficult not to make a noise 

 by cracking sticks or brushing against trees, in the gloom ; 

 but the forest was so open that it favored me. When I 

 reached the edge of the beaver-meadow it was light enough 

 to shoot, though the front sight still glimmered indistinctly. 

 Streaks of cold red showed that the sun would soon rise. 



Before leaving the shelter of the last spruces I halted 

 to listen ; and almost immediately heard a curious splash- 

 ingf sound from the middle of the meadow, where the brook 



