250 The Wilderness Hunter 



I strode out on the bank at the lower end of a 

 long, narrow pool of water, dark and half frozen. 

 In this pool, half way down and facing me, but 

 a score of yards off, stood the mighty marsh beast, 

 strange and uncouth in look as some monster sur 

 viving over from the Pliocene. His vast bulk 

 loomed black and vague in the dim gray dawn; 

 his huge antlers stood out sharply ; columns of steam 

 rose from his nostrils. For several seconds he 

 fronted me motionless ; then he began to turn, slow 

 ly, and as if he had a stiff neck. When quarter 

 way round I fired into his shoulder; whereat he 

 reared and bounded on the bank with a great leap, 

 vanishing in the willows. Through these I heard 

 him crash like a whirlwind for a dozen rods; then 

 down he fell, and when I reached the spot he had 

 ceased to struggle. The ball had gone through 

 his heart. 



When a moose is thus surprised at close quarters, 

 it will often stand at gaze for a moment or two, 

 and then turn stiffly around until headed in the right 

 direction ; once thus headed aright it starts off with 

 extraordinary speed. 



The flesh of the moose is very good ; though some 

 deem it coarse. Old hunters, who always like rich, 

 greasy food, rank the moose s nose with a beaver s 

 tail, as the chief of backwood delicacies; personally 

 I never liked either. The hide of the moose, like 

 the hide of the elk, is of very poor quality, much 



