208 THE FUR TRADE OF AMERICA 



that aspen thicket. The brush is sparser. She has chosen her 

 resting-ground wisely. The man falls forward on his face, closing 

 in, closing in, wiggling and watching till — he makes a horrible 

 discovery. That jay is perched on the topmost bough of the grove ; 

 and the man has caught a glimpse of something buff-colored be- 

 hind the aspens. It may be a moose, or only a log. The untried 

 hunter would fire. Not so the trapper. Haphazard aim means 

 fighting a wounded moose, or letting the creature drag its agony 

 off to inaccessible haunts. The man worms his way round the 

 thicket, sighting the game with the noiseless circling of a hawk 

 before the drop. An ear blinks. But at that instant the jay 

 perks his head to one side with a curious look at this strange object 

 on the ground. In another second it will be off with a call and the 

 moose up. 



His rifle is aimed ! 



A blinding swish of aspen leaves and snow and smoke ! The 

 jay is off with a noisy whistle. And the trapper has leather for 

 moccasins, and heavy filling for his snow-shoes, and meat for his 

 larder. 



But he must still get the fine filling for heel and toe ; and this 

 comes from caribou or deer. The deer, he will still hunt as he has 

 still hunted the moose, with this difference : that the deer runs in 

 circles, jumping back in his own tracks, leaving the hunter to follow 

 a cold scent, while it, by a sheer bound — five — eight — twenty 

 feet off at a new angle, makes for the hiding of dense woods. No 

 one but a barbarian would attempt to run down a caribou ; for 

 it can only be done by the shameless trick of snaring in crusted 

 snow, or intercepting while swimming, and then — butchery. 



The caribou doesn't run. It doesn't bound. It floats away 

 into space. 



One moment a sandy-colored form, with black nose, black 

 feet, and a glory of white statuary above its head, is seen against 

 the far reaches of snow. The next, the form has shrunk — and 



