8 EXPLORATIONS IN THE FAR NORTH 



As I was nearing camp alone after a hard day's tramp over 

 the yielding moss, I saw a large moose in an opening about five 

 hundred yards away. He was walking slowly, feeding as he 

 went. At that distance he was not easily distinguishable from 

 the black masses of earth and moss, which clung to the up- 

 turned roots of the fallen trees. The animal was crossing a 

 level swamp, an almost impenetrable brule in which charred 

 tamarack poles prevented a rapid and silent approach. The 

 sun was just dipping below the horizon as I waded across the 

 creek, waist-deep and icy-cold — and began the stalk. There 

 was scarcely a breath of wind to prevent the moose from hear- 

 ing the least sound, so that I expected to see the big-eared 

 brute make off at any moment, yet I succeeded in approaching 

 within a hundred yards without alarming him. The sand-flies 

 embraced the opportunity to swarm over my face and hands, 

 where, in the excitement of the moment, their stings were un- 

 noticed; later when their presence was recalled by the smart- 

 ing pain, I realized that my face was streaming with blood as 

 a result of their attacks. 1 



Vexed at the previous failures of the day, I was determined 

 to do careful shooting. The moose started at my first shot; 

 then stood swinging his head while I ran twenty yards towards 

 him. Taking deliberate aim I fired again, breaking a fore 

 leg. I then advanced to within thirty yards of the moose and 

 fired four times at his partially exposed side. But I had too 

 great confidence in the killing power of the heavy rifle and, 

 though I took time to aim as carefully as possible, did not take 

 pains to work around opposite his side that I might strike a 

 vital spot. A moment before I fired the last time I would not 

 have taken a hundred dollars for my chance of getting that 

 pair of antlers, which were the largest I ever saw; a moment 

 later I would have given as much for another cartridge. The 

 moose stood in his tracks for five minutes, and, beginning to 



1 " How can I possibly give an idea of the torment we endured from the 

 sand-flies? As we dived into the confined and suffocating chasms or waded 

 through the close swamps, they rose in clouds actually darkening the 

 air; to see or to speak was equally difficult, for they rushed at every unde- 

 fended part, and fixed their poisoned fangs in an instant. Our faces 

 streamed with blood as if leeches had been applied; and there was a burn- 

 ing and irritating pain, followed by immediate inflammation, and producing 

 giddiness, which almost drove us mad." — Back, Narrative, p. 179. 



